Blazing Hot Christmas

by Beth Beaumont

I’m hoping that he’ll be grossed out. Apparently he’s not.

  “Not yet, beautiful, but you will,” he gives me this look that looks like he wants to eat me alive, then he stares down at the v of my cleavage and licks his lips.

  I can barely swallow, and I know I have to get out of there.

  “Excuse me,” I say, and I get up so fast that I nearly knock my chair over.

  I rush toward the bathroom, not looking back to see whether he’s following me or not. On my way, I scan the room, looking for Josie. I don’t see her anywhere. I’d text her from the bathroom, but dammit, I left my purse under my chair. I slip into the bathroom and check my hair and lipstick in the mirror. Even after eating, my ruby sunrise lipstick is still perfect, and I sink down onto the pink velvet couch in the lounge part of the bathroom to catch my breath. That guy is creepy as hell, and I make plans to avoid him for the rest of the evening. Maybe if I tell Josie that I’m freaked out, she’ll agree to leave early, and we can just go to the bar. Or home. I was pretty much done with the evening already.

  I check my hair one more time, and it’s still perfect. I have an up-do, with a ton of curls piled on top of my head, and these perfect little tendrils hanging down by the front of my ears. Josie’s hair dresser did a great job, it’s a shame to waste it by going home, but this place was definitely not my scene. The women around here all look like they live on one piece of celery per day. No thank you.

  I leave the bathroom, and as soon as I turn the corner to go down the hall, the dude who followed me steps right in front of me and puts his hand on the wall, blocking me from getting past him. I look around really fast, and there’s no one around. My heart beats like crazy and this fear stabs through me, but I can’t let him see it.

  “Excuse me,” I say firmly, trying to move past him.

  He blocks me with his body, smiling like a predator.

  “What’s your hurry, sweetheart?” he purrs. “I’m just making sure that you’re okay.”

  “I’m fine, now excuse me,” I say, trying to push past him.

  He grabs my upper arm, and it hurts.

  “Ow, stop it!” I say, trying to twist away from him.

  “HO, HO, HO!!” this voice booms from behind me, thankfully making this vulture release his grip.

  A pair of white-gloved hands rest on my shoulders, making me jump, but when I turn and see Santa, I see fire in his eyes, which look oddly familiar, directed at the gross older guy, who backs up.

  “Merry Christmas, young lady!” Santa says, keeping an eye on the dude, who makes a face and turns and walks away.

  I nearly collapse with relief and tears spring to my eyes.

  “It’s okay,” Santa whispers in my ear. “Come with me,” he says, and takes my hand, leading me down the hall and into an empty conference room.

  He closed the door behind us, and I’m trembling. I put my hands over my face, because I don’t want to cry in front of Santa.

  “Hey,” this voice says, and it sounds so familiar.

  I look up, hoping that I don’t have mascara all over my face, and I see that Santa has pulled off his beard and mustache.

  “Colt?” I whisper, my cheeks flushing.

  “Hey, Holly, are you okay?” he asks, those dark eyes filled with concern.

  I don’t know why, but the tenderness of his voice makes me lose it. I shake my head and start crying. He pulls me into a hug and I press up against this pillow belly that he’s wearing to make him look jolly.

  “Did he hurt you?” his voice rumbles into my ear.

  He’s so strong and solid, even with the Santa belly between us, I can feel that.

  “He grabbed my arm, but I’m fine,” I choke out. “I’m just glad you came along when you did,” I shudder.

  “Me too,” he whispers, his breath warm on my ear.

  He draws back and looks into my eyes. All thoughts of the icky older man leave my head, even though I’m still shaking from the adrenaline surge. Not looking away at all, Colt reaches under his Santa coat and unsnaps the belly, pulling it out and tossing it on a chair. With nothing blocking it now, I see that he has a huge hard-on tenting the front of his red velour Santa pants. Somehow, seeing Santa with a hard cock makes me feel especially naughty.

  “C’mere,” he says, and runs a finger along my neckline when I step toward him, lips parted, hungry.

  I want him to kiss me. I want it so badly that my lips ache for it, and I lick them. My breath comes out in a rush when he touches me.

  “I’m so sorry that happened,” he says, cupping my face in his hands and bending forward to kiss my forehead.

  I feel like I’ve been zapped by a bolt of lightning, as electricity rockets through my body, going straight to my clitoris. I’m trembling now because I want him. My panties are drenched, I feel the soaked cloth against my labia, which have suddenly become engorged and very sensitive. I think if I press my thighs together too firmly, I may just come.

  “You look so beautiful tonight,” he whispers, kissing my temples, my eyelids, the bridge of my nose. “I would have taken that bastard out if he’d harmed you,” his breathing changed, becoming ragged, and I snuggled close, feeling his erection bouncing against my stomach.

  I tilt my face up toward his, and close my eyes. His lips brush against mine, and another thrill shoots through me. He kisses me more firmly and his tongue darts into my mouth. I nip at it and he groans, pressing harder against me. One of his hands slips down the front of my gown and I gasp when he tweaks one of my rock-hard nipples.

  “Kiss it,” I gasp, burying my hands in the silky dark curls of his hair. “Please,” I groan against his mouth.

  “I can’t,” he wrenches his lips from mine with obvious effort, his fingers still rolling my nipple back and forth, making me crazy.

  “Why?” I mewl, grinding against his cock, my satin and his velour the only things separating us.

  “I’m Santa,” he pants. “I have to go be Santa,” he grimaces, clearly wanting to stay with me.

  “We can be quick,” I whisper, giving him a look that leaves no doubt about what I want.

  “Really?” he asks.

  “Oh yeah,” I say, lifting the back of my dress, slipping down my panties and leaning over the conference table.

  “You’re stunning,” he husks, taking in the sight of my bare ass.

  I spread my legs and reach back, parting my labia, inviting him in. He stands behind me and pulls down the front of his Santa pants, springing free. His hands caress the sides of my ample ass as his cock bounces against my back door.

  “Do you have protection?” I pant, my fingers drenched from touching myself while I wait to guide him in.

  If I flick my finger over my clit a couple of times, I’ll come all over my hand, but I hold back. I want to come with him inside me. Suddenly he stops, going still, despite his raging hard-on. I can feel the moisture at the tip of it sliding across my taint.

  “No, I don’t have anything with me…do you?” he asks.

  “No,” I bleat, needing him badly.

  “Stand up,” he commands, the strength in his voice giving me chills.

  I stand up, gazing at him with pure lust. I can hardly stand because my knees are weak. I want him. Now.

  “Pull up your dress,” he orders, his eyes on mine.

  I do as he says, and feel a bead of moisture running down my inner thigh. I’m so ready for him. He pulls me roughly to him, possessing my mouth with his lips and tongue. My body is on fire. I hold up my dress and he slides one hand between my legs, while the other goes back to my nipple, stroking, pulling, twirling.

  “You feel so good,” he whispers, cupping my sex with his palm, while his fingers explore the saturated folds of my pussy.

  “I’m gonna come if you keep doing that,” I moan.

  “That’s the idea, Holly. I want you to come. Come for me, baby,” he says, and the sound of my name on his lips sends me over the edge.

  The orgasm that I’d been holding back si
nce he first touched me rips through me like a freight train and I bite into his shoulder to keep from crying out. He masterfully strokes me and I grind into his hand, my juices covering it. My body bucks and rocks against his palm and when the spasms start to ease, he drops to his knees and brings his head to me, flicking his tongue against my clit and sending me off again. My pussy clenches and unclenches as he thrusts two fingers in and out of me, in time with my frenzied spasms. I clench my eyes tightly shut and grit my teeth to keep from crying out, as my body practically flies apart. He licks and sucks, drinking in my femininity, until my body finally settles, still twitching against him, and I try to catch my breath.

  “Oh wow,” I pant, wanting nothing more than to curl up in his arms and go to sleep. “Let me catch my breath and then it’s your turn, Colt,” I promise.

  He looks at his watch and wipes a hand across his face.

  “No time, Beautiful. Santa has to go give out some other gifts,” he grins wickedly. “But don’t worry, you’ll get your chance,” he says, putting his belly back on and covering his hard-on. “You might want to touch up your lipstick,” he grins, kissing me and heading for the door, after slapping on his beard and mustache.

  “But, when will I see you again?” I call after him, still breathless.

  “Soon,” he calls back, never breaking stride.

  Colt

  That woman is amazing. I’m so turned on that I can’t hardly think straight. I’m going to have to take this Santa suit to the dry cleaner before I give it back…there’s quite a bit of moisture on the front of the pants. I try to think of a dozen things to clear my head and relax my cock before I have to go play Santa again. My erection is gone by the time I sit down on the Santa throne, but now Holly is in my head, even more than before. So sweet, so beautiful. I can’t let my thoughts wander, so I focus on North Pole behavior, and Santa on.

  Holly

  It takes me a few minutes to catch my breath, and when I look down, I see that there’s some…moisture near the hem of my dress. I’ll just tell Josie that I spilled my drink and I’ll get it dry cleaned before I give it back. I pat my hair into place and open the door of the conference room, peeking out to make sure that no one is in the hallway. I go back to the bathroom to check my face and see that nearly all of my lipstick has been kissed off. I take a tissue and swipe off the smudges outside my lip line, then wash my hands and head out of the bathroom. If that old freak hits on me again, I’m planning to punch him where it counts. My session with Colt has made me feel invincible and I love it. It’s been a long time since a man has satisfied me with no thought of his own satisfaction.

  Josie spots me from across the room and hurries over, grabbing my arm.

  “Where have you been?” she hisses. “They’re just about to start dinner.”

  “I…uh…I was in the restroom,” I stammer, blushing.

  “Are you sick or something? You’re all red and hot and a little sweaty,” she frowns at me.

  “I think I’m okay. Maybe I just need a little food,” I shrug.

  Dinner is amazing, and while the adults eat, the kids see Santa, then disappear into a smaller ballroom for their own party. I’m so hungry, I’m eating like a fiend, everything from salad to dinner to dessert, and washing it all down with a very nice red wine. I just put my last bite of double chocolate cake into my mouth, and I’m really savoring it. Like, it’s rolling over my tongue in this sweet, creamy way that just makes me smile, and I look up and see Colt.

  He’s still in his Santa suit, and he’s apparently socializing with the guests, now that the kids are gone. He’s kneeling by the chair of a stunning blonde who looks like a late thirty-something Barbie came to life, and she’s running a hand through his hair, while they laugh.

  “She’s too old for him,” I whisper, the chocolate cake sticking, like a lump, in my throat.

  “What?” Josie leans in.

  She’s chewing too, and has a crumb of cake on her cheek. I brush at it and shake my head, my cheeks hot with shame and humiliation.

  “Uh…I said, you’re right, I must be coming down with something. I need to go home now,” I say, feeling tears spring to my eyes.

  Colt was a player, and he was working the room. I was just a momentary diversion. I should’ve known. Men suck. How did I forget that?

  “Like, right now? Are you going to throw up or something?” Josie’s eyes go wide.

  “Not yet, but I need to go now,” I shake my head, not looking at her, and definitely not looking in Colt’s direction.

  “Okay, let me get our coats and I’ll drive you,” she says, patting my arm.

  “No, you stay. I’ll just call a cab,” I say, getting out of my chair.

  “You sure?” she bites her lip, looking torn.

  I know she wants to stay and there’s no reason that both of us should have our evening ruined because of one Casanova Santa.

  “Yes, you stay. Tell me all about it tomorrow.”

  I try to give her a smile, but my lips can’t quite do it, so I give her a hug and hurry away.

  Colt

  I see her one minute, and she’s laughing with her friend and having a good time. I love the way her lips close around the fork when she takes a bite, and I can’t wait to see those lips around something else. I look up again, and she’s gone. I check the bathroom. Nope. I look in the kitchen, the coat room, everywhere, and there’s no sign of her. I go in the back to change, hoping that she’ll be around when I come out. No such luck, but her friend is at their table.

  “Hey,” I say, approaching her and sitting down in Holly’s chair.

  “Oh!” she seems startled. “Uh, hi.”

  She has red hair and pale skin, and when she blushes, her whole face turns bright pink. I don’t know what I’ve done to embarrass her, but I’ve noticed that I have that effect on some women for some reason. I just don’t get it.

  “You’re Holly’s friend, right?” I ask, hoping that she doesn’t think I’m a stalker or something.

  “Yeahhh…” she says, frowning at me. “How do you know Holly?”

  “We…umm…I was playing Santa, and we talked a little bit,” I say, sounding awkward and dumb.

  “Oh! You’re one of the fire fighters?” she says, as if that makes a difference somehow.

  “Yep,” I nod, not knowing what else to say.

  “Gotcha. Well, Holly wasn’t feeling great. She left a few minutes ago,” the friend shrugs.

  “By herself?” my eyebrows raise.

  Who lets a sick friend go home by themselves?

  “Yeah, I offered to drive her, but she insisted that I stay. She’s stubborn when her mind is made up, so I didn’t argue,” she gives me a lopsided smile.

  “Think she’ll be okay?” I ask.

  My inclination is to get her address and go check on her, but I don’t want to be intrusive.

  “Yeah, I think so. She may have just had too much wine or something. She was pretty flushed and warm,” the friend says, and I blush.

  I know why Holly was warm and flushed, and just thinking about it sent a tingle straight to my cock. I intentionally think about other things so that my reaction won’t be obvious to everyone at the event.

  “Poor thing,” I murmur. “Well, thanks. Nice talking to you,” I say, turning to leave.

  “You too,” she says, staring at me, an invitation in her eyes.

  I ignore it and head for my truck.

  Holly

  I’ve been in a bad mood all day. It’s Saturday, and I should have been putting up my Christmas decorations, since Christmas is right around the corner, but I just don’t feel like it. Colt turning out to be a player really put a stain on my perspective towards humanity, and all I feel like doing today is lounging on the couch in my sweat pants and a sweater, watching movies and eating junk food. Josie tries to call me, but I let it go to voicemail. There are some days when you don’t even want to talk to your bestie, and today is one of those. Even Jingles is keeping her distan
ce, snoozing on the opposite end of the couch.

  My hair is wild, and I’ve captured it in a ratty, rainbow-colored scrunchy that I’ve had since high school. I have no makeup on, and when the doorbell rings, it pisses me off. Why can’t the world just leave me alone? Mom and Dad are supposed to be sending Christmas packages, so I don’t want to let the door go unanswered, because then, I’ll have to schlepp down to the post office to pick up my presents, and there’s no way in the world that I’m going to do that.

  “Hang on,” I yell, trying to sound as pleasant as possible, when the doorbell rings again.

  I scuff to the door in my fluffy blue monster slippers. They have eyeballs and everything and they’re so warm. I wear them whenever I’m sick or mad or whatever.

  Without bothering to look out of the peephole, I fling the door open. I could die on the spot when I see Colt, looking amazing in jeans and a black sweater, standing on my porch.

  “You left without saying goodbye,” he says, with this adorable little smile.

  He has dimples. Fucking dimples. Life is just not fair.

  “I didn’t want to interrupt your date,” I snap, sounding like a bitch. Which is fine, because at the moment, I’m feeling like a bitch. Besides, he deserves it.

  Colt’s smile disappears, replaced by a look of confusion.

  “My date? I didn’t have a date, what are you talking about?” he frowns.

  “Oh you didn’t? So you just let any random skinny blonde chick run her fingers through your hair? Wow, isn’t that sweet of you,” I roll my eyes.

  “Random, skinny, blonde…” he repeats, thinking. “Oh my gosh,” he blurts, cracking up.

  “I’m glad you find it funny,” I grind my teeth. “But I don’t. Goodbye,” I say.

  I go to shut the door and he puts his booted foot in it, stopping me.

  “I’d like to explain,” he says, serious again. “Can I come in?”

  I stare at him coldly and let out a sigh.