Page 26 of Santa's Dark Secret
Every day I’ve thought about him, and despite how badly it’s going to hurt to have to see him leave again, I can’t help but need this. I’ve struggled this year. I’ve had no one in my corner. No family. No friends. It’s just been me and my wishes, but it all changes tonight—at least for a little while. Come tomorrow morning, I’ll wake up and everything will be back to normal. Back to missing him. Back to wishing I could be right there with him, wherever that might be. Back to waiting and anticipating.
It’s too much. This past year has almost destroyed me, and there were times I wanted to give up. Times where I considered writing him one final letter and begging him to let me go. The truth is, this is absurd. What kind of woman waits around all year for a man she will see just once? I should be trying to move on. I should find someone to settle down with and do the whole big white house on a hill with a picket fence thing. I should think about my future. A wedding, kids, and a dog. Yet here I am in my lonely apartment, dressing up for a fictional man who holds my whole damn heart.
I truly am a sucker for punishment.
I’ve stayed up watching silly Christmas movies, each one of them ending with a happily ever after, and honestly, fuck them. Why do they get to have all their dreams come true when I only get to have one raunchy night per year? I mean, Nick doesn’t even respond to my letters. Not that I have any idea how all of that shit is supposed to happen.
Has he even received my letters?
He told me to keep making Christmas wishes, and that’s exactly what I did, but what if he’s only getting the wish part of the letter? Nah, that’s ridiculous. If he’s getting the wish, then surely he’s getting the letter. But fuck. Would it kill him to pick up a fucking pen and write me something in return? It’s not as though I’ve been waiting on bated breath for him all damn year.
I get through a movie and a half before I finally turn it off and decide it’s time to get ready. I have no idea what time to expect the dick-tator of my wettest dreams, but considering he still has to deliver a present to every single child in the whole damn universe, it could take a minute.
It’s almost one in the morning, and as I adjust the bow around my waist and step into the black pumps that perfectly match my lingerie, a strange shiver trails down my spine, and though I can’t explain it, I just know it’s him.
The jitters hit me hard, and as I make my way out of my bedroom and into my living room, I quickly glance around, making sure that everything is perfect. I went hard on the Christmas decorations this year. I wanted everything to be perfect, and now my apartment looks like elves threw up in here. There’s Christmas shit everywhere. Though by the time I’m through with him, it’ll look a little more like a Santa sex-fest massacre. If cum isn’t spread across the walls and the ceiling fan, then we did it wrong. But also, why the fuck am I so disgusting? Cum on my walls? What kind of sex-crazed monster has Nick turned me into?
Turning the light out, I keep the small lamp in my living room on, paired with the soft stream of moonlight shining through the window, and the mood lighting is just about perfect.
The nerves hit an all-time high, and I’m suddenly flooded with a wave of questions, every single one of them centered around how the hell I’m supposed to position myself.
Do I sit on the couch and try to look sexy with my legs apart, or is that too desperate? Do I take up residence on the coffee table? Do I hang out by my bedroom door and try to pose against the frame? What about the kitchen counter? Maybe I should just stand awkwardly in the middle of the room like I’m doing now.
Holy fucking shit.
Sheer panic rumbles through my chest. How did I manage to plan out every last second of tonight but forget about this? My gaze madly dances around my apartment, trying to figure myself out, when a shadow falls across my living room window, and suddenly nothing else matters.
The window pulls back and, within seconds, every glorious inch of my six-foot-four Christmas wish appears in my living room, his signature smirk staring back at me.
His eyes are so much darker than I remembered, and the butterflies deep in my stomach instantly soar. God, I’ve neverbeen so happy in my life. He opens his arms, and every train of thought leaves me. All that matters is getting to him.
I run across my small apartment, my heels slamming against the hardwood floors, and I throw myself into the air, crashing into him with the force of a freight train.
His strong, capable arms lock around me as I twine my legs around his muscled waist. “Fuck, I’ve missed you,” he rumbles as his lips crash down on mine.
I melt into him, and within seconds, he has my back against the living room wall, and intense pleasure rocks through my body. The butterflies turn to fire in my belly, and all I’m left with is a raw determination to feel him inside of me.
Hunger takes over as that familiar pine scent fills the air, intoxicating me with sheer need. My hands roam over his body, frantically pulling at his big red suit, and he hastily helps, holding onto me with only one hand as he reaches for the black belt around his waist.
“Oh God,” I gasp as he holds me against the wall with his hips, grinding that thick cock against my core. “I need you inside me.”
The belt falls to the floor, and the big red jacket is next to go, revealing his rock-hard body beneath. He’s pure perfection. Every inch of his chest, arms, and abs are perfectly sculptured. I’ve never seen anything more delicious in my life.
“Nick, please,” I groan.
He reaches down between us, freeing that delicious cock, and I can’t help the way my tongue peeks out and rolls along my bottom lip, the raw desperation turning me into a frantic, caged animal. He wraps his fingers around the base of his cock, giving a firm squeeze as he pins me with his hips, freeing his other hand as I clutch onto him, trying to keep myself balanced against the wall.
Nick’s other hand disappears between us, and the second his fingers brush over my needy cunt, a loud groan tears from theback of my throat. Who would have known that waiting twelve months to be touched by a man would do this to me? He quickly moves the fabric of my black thong aside and pushes his thick fingers inside me.
“Holy fuck,” I moan, tipping my head back against the wall as I sense his wicked stare locked on my face. “Right there.”
“You like that, baby?”
“God, yes.”
“You’re such a good girl, waiting all these months just for me.”
Fuck. I love the way he talks to me, but I love that rich tone even more, and in response, all I can do is clench my walls around his fingers as he massages me from within.
