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“Is there a reason you want me dressed like I’m starring in low-budget Christmas porn?”
My mouth goes dry as I take in the man standing in the doorway. He’s wearing red velvet pants and nothing else. Aside from chestnut leather suspenders and tattoos scrawled across his pecs, his chest is bare.
It isn’t until I clock his expression, as stunned as I feel, that I remember I’m standing in front of him in nothing but a bra and a sorry excuse for a skirt.
Of course you are
How did I not know Noelle’s uncle Henry looked like this?
“Decent might be pushing it, actually,” I grumble. When I look up, he’s facing me again. His gaze quickly jumps from my chest to my face. “Noelle picked it.” His throat bobs. “It’s very … festive.”
His hand is warm in mine. Holy shit, it’s massive. I swear he could hold both of my hands in one of his with room to spare.
And he will lmao
“I’m happy to help,” Henry replies as he unclips his suspenders. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I need to get out of here. I also need to get a grip.
I hardly process the words coming out of his mouth as I watch him shrug on his jacket and buckle the thick black belt that closes it. He doesn’t have the hat on yet, thank fucking god. What is happening to me? What is this? There’s not a chance in the world that I’m attracted to this man in a Santa suit.
I face the entrance to the grotto and see the real problem: Henry and I, inside a dark, ten-by-ten room, alone, while he’s dressed like that and I, apparently, am losing my fucking mind.
There’s only one want on my list right now, and asking Noelle would be wholly inappropriate. But she did say she owes me. What’s the harm in asking? “I’d like permission to seduce your uncle, please.”
To be clear, for Christmas, you want my permission to have sex with my uncle Henry?” When you put it like that… I’ve already put it out there. Might as well keep going. “Yes, please.”
“I can’t wrap that. But you should. You getting knocked up by my uncle would make Christmas pretty awkward.”
I hardly hear a word he says because the front door opens, and Henry walks in, wearing nothing but a gray skin-tight t-shirt and workout shorts. In this weather. Fuck.
“Please let me help, sugar.” Her eyes widen almost imperceptibly for a second before she narrows them. “Does that work for you?” “What?” “Saying ‘sugar’ in that Texas drawl of yours to get people to do what you want.”
“The ‘sexy Santa’ thing.” Rora narrows her eyes, considering me. She runs her tongue along the edge of her teeth before saying, “Henry. You are the ‘sexy Santa’ thing. You don’t have to do anything.”
The suit, the power, the ‘he sees you when you’re sleeping’ thing. There’s something kind of hot about the thought of Santa just sitting by the fire, watching you sleep, deciding if you’re naughty or nice.”
“Do you want a ride?” “I— What?” I ask, my eyes widening as she stretches to pull her sweater over her head. “You walked here, right? I have my car.” God, I need to get a grip.
I’m usually asleep by midnight, and there’s a spare key under the blue plant pot by the door if you’re interested. If you’re not, let’s not make it weird tomorrow. Rora P.S. Wear the Santa suit. P.P.S. My safe word is candy cane.
On the scale of good to bad ideas, sneaking out to hook up with my niece’s twenty-eight-year-old best friend falls firmly on the bad idea side. I pinch the spot between my brows and groan. If you’re interested. Of course, I’m fucking interested.
What are the odds that the biggest Christmas hater I’ve ever met has a goddamn Santa kink?
“Hi,” she whispers. “Hi.” “You came.” “I did.” She runs her tongue over her bottom lip. “You freaking out a little?” I swallow, and Rora’s gaze falls to my throat, her pupils dilating. “How could you tell?”
I’m here, in Wintermore, with Noelle’s uncle’s tongue in my mouth. He’s dressed like fucking Santa Claus, and it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever done in my life.
“God,” I whimper against his lips. Henry chuckles, his soft beard and mustache tickling my sensitive skin. “Santa’s just fine, baby.” Holy shit. “Santa,” I whisper, and Henry groans.
“You better keep riding me, sugar. I haven’t had nearly enough of those filthy words spilling out of your lips. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen such a pretty mouth cursing so much.”
“I want you to make a mess of me, Rora. I want to feel your perfect cunt dripping all over me as you fall apart, getting good and ready for me to fuck you goddamn senseless after. You think you can do that for me, sugar?”
I’m just deciding if I want to feel you coming on my mouth or fingers next.”
“It’s going to fit, baby.” He steps out of his pants and underwear, nodding up the bed. My body listens, even though my brain is telling me this is a terrible idea if I want to walk at any point over the next three to five business days.
His cock settles against my stomach, hard and heavy.
Her stomach!!!
“You hate that you’re into this, don’t you?” “Fucking Christmas,” I mutter, and he grins. “Sounds like something someone on the naughty list would say, sugar.”
“Were you wearing the suit when you ran into Noelle last night?” I wince and nod. “Oh god,” she groans, closing her eyes. “I’m never going to live this down.”
A king bed. A fucking king-sized bed. I love curling up with Rora anywhere, but we’re somewhat limited in her twin bed. The things we could do with this much space…
“Do you have a place like this? Somewhere you can just be?” I can see it on my face on the tiny screen; I found it. And it turns out it’s not a place after all. It’s her.
Don’t write it off just because you can’t see a path through the trees.”
I’ve never really understood the hype around oral, giving or receiving. Henry quickly made me understand the receiving hype, but watching him struggle to keep it together, trying not to lose control, fist my hair, and take over? Oh yeah, I get the giving hype now.
“You reckon you can be nice and quiet for me, baby?” His voice is toe-curling low.
She sits up so she can watch me fucking her with my cum-covered fingers. “You want to practice getting me knocked up?” She licks her lips, and I still. “Fuck,” I whisper. “If Santa is your thing, I think I just figured out what mine is.” “A breeding kink, huh? Interesting…”
“When you love someone like we love each other, dreams are a shared thing, and it doesn’t feel like you’re losing anything when you leave things behind to watch the person you love live their dreams.”
“So, are you going to make the most of hating Christmas for the last year?” “I think that ship sailed the day I met you, went home, and looked up Santa porn,” I admit. “Who’d have thought?” Henry chuckles. “I, for one, am glad you didn’t let your hatred of Christmas get in the way of your Santa kink.”
