Forbidden Santa: A Blakely After Dark Novella (The Forbidden Series Book 3)

by Kira Blakely

  He lunges deep into me again, until his abs are flat on my ass, and again, and again, and I cry out as we reach a rhythm. My ass jumps up and down and his hands pin on my hips, holding me in place.

  "Oh, yeah, girl," he gasps, and there's a sharp crack of pleasure and pain on my left ass cheek. He just spanked me, I realize. And I liked it. "Tell me you've been naughty this year. Tell me you've been a bad girl."

  "I've been a bad girl," I obey him, even though it's a lie. "I've been a bad girl this year, Santa."

  "Oh, yeah." I thought Stuart might like that. He's the kind of guy who wants to be called Daddy in the bedroom. "But I'm all out of coal. So I guess I'm going to have to give you this dick instead." Crack! Another spanking, and I whimper. "Better not pout," he warns me, reaching around and toggling my clit.

  My system will overload and fry. "Better not cry," he adds, another spank. This time, I clamp my lips shut and obediently do not allow myself to whimper. He grasps my hips and presses them down hard to the table, lunging into me with all of his weight. He shakes. The whole table shakes.

  He lets out a strangled cry of release and his load is so hot, so full, that it lashes against my g-spot and I let out a small orgasm from the simple feeling of his warmth filling me. Oh, my god.

  I blink and open my eyes, which clamped shut at some point in the festivities. His wild thrusting tugged my blindfold down to my nose, and now I can see. I twist and gaze back at him, seeing him for the first time since I got that invitation. He's panting and covered in sweat and still balls deep inside me.

  "Hey," I say. "There you are."

  "Here I am." He gently thrusts himself deeper into me. He's still not exactly soft. "I didn't think you'd come."

  "I came hard," I rebut with a little smile.

  "You have no idea," he says, unknotting my wrists. I totally forgot about that. My fingers are tingling. "You can come much harder than that. And you will."

  Chapter Five

  Stuart

  I don't even realize how big of a load my balls carried until just now, leaving it all behind inside Rose but after being relieved from all that seed, maybe I need a break to build myself up again.

  At the same time, look at this girl. How can I stop fucking her? When she's literally naked with a bow wrapped around her?

  I can't... and maybe she can help me get back into fighting shape.

  "Come here, naughty girl," I command her, standing—albeit with loopy, loose legs. I still stand and smile down at her as she crawls to the edge of the coffee table on hands and knees, still loosely tangled in ribbon. She tugs the blindfold down around her slim neck, and I immediately come up with some new uses for that prop.

  Just the thought of it has me ready for her, all over again. This is my Rose. I’ve fantasized about this moment for fucking years.

  Her tits bounce as she rises from her knees. I help her up, grab the underside of her elbow and drag her into my arms. “There you are,” I say, just as she did.

  “Here I am,” she whispered. She shakes in my arms, trembles from the orgasm, from the sweet mixture of our juices now trailing between her legs. Fuck, I want to fill her again. I will fill her again.

  I’ve already regained my breath. My dick twitches, and I hold her out at arm’s length, examine those curves, and that sweet golden thatch of hair between her legs. “Stand here,” I say.

  I walk to the sofa.

  "Okay, baby." I settle onto the living room couch. My cock waves in my lap like a big, fat flag pole. "Come tell me what you want for Christmas."

  I pat my thigh, encouraging her to approach my lap.

  Rose purses her lips but obeys. I enjoy the motion of her body as she crosses toward me, the sinew of her muscular thighs, the sway of her perky breasts. I bet her stamina and her muscle control are through the roof; it's obvious that she's fit and healthy. I wonder if she can outlast me... and there's only one way to find out.

  "I want you to sit on my lap," I tell her when she's standing in front of me, "with your thighs wide open. Straddle Santa."

  Rose spreads her thighs wide and settles down onto my lap. Her gash opens for me, and she’s slick and hot, against my hard-on. My cock lays against her clit and down the center of her strip. We both shudder as we settle together but we just sit for a second, not sinking into any kind of rhythm yet.

  She's waiting for my word. Good girl.

  "What do you want for Christmas this year, little girl?" I ask.

  "I want you," she breathes, gazing into my eyes. I stare back at her with appreciation.

  I spend so much time working and being appreciated for my money, I forgot how it felt to be wanted for myself.

  "Then I have a present for you," I tell her. "Reach your hand down and feel it."

  Rose's hand snakes between her own thighs to the base of my cock and grasps it, massaging it upward like she's memorizing every curve, every veiny detail.

  "This is exactly what I want," she says.

  I swallow thickly. "Then get on it."

  She puts all her weight on one knee and lifts the other knee to settle and sheath my dick within her body. I shudder as I sink inside of her but the recoil on that only lasts for a second.

  "Grind your hips back and forth."

  Most women have little to no experience with having sex on top, and I don't want my girl to be that way. I want her to know every way to pleasure me, even if she's pleasuring me by pleasuring herself.

  Rose gyrates on my lap and my eyelashes flutter at the sweet, soft sensation of her cunt milking my cock, trying to pull out another spurt.

  "Just like that." My voice shakes, giving away what a good job she's doing, especially for someone who has just had her innocence taken. "Don't stop."

  "Okay, Santa," Rose says, and I grin. She's roleplaying with me. I never met a woman who could role-play without being incredibly awkward and bashful about it. "I was a good girl this year," she says, pumping herself up and down my shaft.

  I grip her hips and help strengthen her momentum. Fuck, I'm going to come again. This has to stop. I feel crazy. It feels like it's only been ten minutes since I walked through that door.

  "Show me that good pussy, good girl," I tell her. "Show me that good pussy."

  I can't wait anymore. This position doesn't have the leverage I need to really slam into her, and my cock is crying for that exact thing. My arms circle around her and lift her into the air. She never stops pumping, and neither do I. We're still having sex while we're walking but as soon as I hit the far wall, I pin her up against it and go full throttle inside her. I can't stop.

  "Welcome to the South Pole," I whisper, and she giggles at my pun. "Let me get deep in there now, baby." I fill her utterly and she almost breaks but she holds her composure and I'm proud. She is a good girl. "You deserve this dick," I tell her, scooping her off the wall and walking with her toward the bedroom.

  She's taken it kinky and she's taken it hard—hell, she lost her virginity on her belly, hog-tied by a Christmas ribbon—and now I want to give it to her the right way... in a bed, pressed close to her, the way a man and a wife should do. The way she deserves to be fucked.

  They call it missionary style but it's more than that. It's my skin on her skin. It's my eyes gazing into her eyes. It's making love.

  I walk her up the winding villa staircase, still speared on me. I'm still throbbing inside her.

  "Come on, baby girl," I whisper against her ear. "I'm going to put you to bed right."

  We cross the bedroom threshold, and I saunter over to the king-sized bed, feeling every inch a king right now. I spread my claimed virgin, my sweet charity worker, spread open on the bed like I'm going to investigate her every crevasse.

  I lower myself over her, and for the first time tonight... I kiss her. I kiss Rose deeply and sweetly on the mouth, my tongue breaking between her lips and tangling with hers. She moans into me and her body loosens and curls around mine like so many vines, ensnaring my limbs and my torso. As we kiss, I
thrust slowly and rhythmically into her. Our kiss finally breaks, and I breathe against her neck, unable to get enough of her scent, her touch, her skin. I want to be close.

  I've never felt this way about a woman before—especially after we've had sex a few times—but I want Rose to be curled up, completely naked, in this bed with me tonight. I want to be able to sling my arm over her and fall into a deep sleep.

  I come while shoved completely inside her, so even my hardest thrusts are tiny, but it doesn't matter. We're drowning in cum anyway. I might have to marry this girl.

  Chapter Six

  Rose

  I've always been an early riser, and the morning after wild sex with a naked, hunky Santa Claus— otherwise known as Stuart Goldman, the billionaire—is no different.

  I blink away the crust of sleep and glare around the room, vaguely remembering how I was delivered by valets to this address the night before. Does this place even have an address? Probably not. That would ruin the, ahem, mystique.

  My eyes shift over to Stuart, who is still fast asleep but smiling softly. I can see the outline of his rock-hard dick under the sheets, creating a good-sized tent under there, and I wonder what he's dreaming about.

  I don't want to wake him, and I could certainly make his morning by taking him into my mouth right now but I do need a minute to collect my thoughts before this sexcapade continues. Last night was crazy, and if I keep letting all of this snowball forward, I'm going to get crushed by the sudden tsunami of things I've done.

  I can't believe that I'm here, that I came last night, wrapped around Stuart Goldman's shaft, and I need to decompress. I need to integrate this development.

  I slip on my Mystique Island mask and one of the simple white dresses they provided for my weekend here. I leave behind the villa, commanding myself to note landmarks so I can find my way back without needing to ask some naked rando for help.

  The beach is beautiful, a ribbon of white sand tied around the deep blue ocean beyond. I pass several other structures—cabanas, beach houses, villas, all types of residential buildings—and even though it's just after sunrise, I can already hear that some visitors are wide awake and having a sloppy breakfast inside. One man has his bedroom window wide open, and a chorus of satisfied shrieks and moans from at least two different women, maybe three, travels from it.

  I've never understood the appeal of group sex, yet here I am, on a sex island for billionaires.

  I suck my lower lip into my mouth, suddenly doubting myself, and wrap my fingers around my crucifix.

  What would Mom and Dad say if they could see me now?

  "Probably nothing," I grumble to myself bitterly, angry that I'm worried about what they might think after the terrible childhood I received from them.

  My only solace was church in those days. I tried to create myself a second family out of preachers and kids at Sunday school. But even they went away over time, leaving me to fend for myself.

  I was twelve by the time the state picked me up and placed me with foster parents, and twelve is way too late to fix anything. My foster parents were emotionally abusive perfectionists, anyway, and I gave up on finding that family element I so desperately needed. That I still need.

  Last night was the first time in a long time that I felt truly accepted somewhere, especially when he laid me down in that bed. I felt precious to him. Not just a woman. Not just a pussy. Not even just a gift. But someone he really wants...

  "Because he had sex with you?" I ask myself aloud. "Wake up, Rose."

  I know what men are like. That's why I kept my virginity to myself for so long.

  I pass more anonymous sex on the beach but I don't look at it closely. I don't want anyone to think I'm interested. It only exacerbates this feeling I have. Nothing here matters. It's all just sex.

  I'm not ready to go back to Stuart's villa yet, I realize. I'm not ready to face him, and that giant erection lurking under the sheets.

  This morning, I was ready to gobble that thing down, and why? Have I been totally brainwashed by Mystique Island already? Is there horny gas in the air? Maybe a sexy chemical in all the food and water? I don't know but I don't like it. I want to feel like myself again. I don't know who this wild woman is.

  I climb onto an outcropping not far from the villa and receive a solid view of the debauchery on the beach—at eight in the morning, these animals.

  I settle and cross my legs, taking a deep breath to think about who I am and what I'm doing here. Who I want to be, and what I want to happen next. Last night is already done. I lost my virginity to someone I barely know who invited me directly to this sex island. But I don't have to stay if I don't want to.

  Do I want to?

  I'm still torn on whether I should stay when the villa door behind me swings open and Stuart himself comes sauntering out, no mask, wearing white linen pants and no shirt. My eyes absorb his powerful thighs and chiseled torso, then make their way up to those sparkling gray eyes, which are always so delighted to see me.

  I sigh. I don't know what to tell him. I don't know what I feel, other than different. And sore.

  "Hey, Stuart," I say, lacing my arms around my knees and pulling them close, as if shielding my body from him.

  He nods up to me. "Mind if I join you?"

  "I suppose not."

  His brow furrows and he settles himself onto the rock beside me. "I woke up and you were gone. I was worried."

  "Well, I'm still here," I tell him. "I just don't know if I want to stay. I feel silly for coming."

  "What?" He tilts his head and glares at me. "We both came. A lot. You shouldn't feel silly for that."

  "No, coming here," I explain with a little smile.

  I wish I didn't want him so badly. This never would've happened if I'd been able to resist the offer but it was the last chance I'd ever have, and I had to take it. "It's not really me. I'm not like this. I'm not wild. I don't party."

  Across the distant beach, more and more masked visitors arrive, some strolling nude, others in island attire. But almost none of them are uninvolved in a sex act. Even the ones who look uninvolved are probably being voyeurs, like me and Stuart right now, I guess.

  "None of us are really like this," Stuart says, rubbing my back. I lean into it, comforted by his touch. "This is a vacation. The real world isn't like this."

  "Last night, you tied me up and put your dick inside me before you ever even kissed me," I say, even though I liked it a lot at the time. Now, I’m insulted. It wasn't romantic at all!

  “But you liked it,” Stuart purrs, and I blush.

  I guess that’s true. Stuart leans forward and brushes his lips against mine. "I could have put any woman in the world on that Wish List, and I put you." He runs his fingers through my hair and kisses me once more, deep and wet now, with nothing gentle about it, then pulls away again. He's winded by it and so am I. "I know I didn't kiss you. Maybe I should have. I was so excited... And I've never wanted anything more than I want you here, Rose. That's why I asked for you. You were the only person I needed here."

  I crinkle my nose. "You're not going to go down to the beach and masturbate on some three-way or something?" I have to ask. "You're not going to ask me to go down on you while you go down on some other girl at the same time?"

  "Damn straight," Stuart says. "Rose, I know you. You might not think so but I do. I wouldn't do that to you. I know what you want—and I can give it to you."

  "You can?" I whisper. I blink up at him and purse my lips, so certain that it can't ever be true. That's just not my life. I wasn't fated to ever be happy like that. Satisfied. Loved.

  "Of course I can. You're the only one, Rose. Don't be scared." His palm runs down the smooth skin of my thigh, then his other hand, presses my knees open and exposes the crotch of my panties.

  He strokes over the damp fabric at the apex of my thighs. I don't know how I got so wet so fast.

  He leans close and whispers against my ear, "I know what you want." His breath stirs my ha
ir and I shudder. His finger strokes harder over my button, still covered, and I grind against his finger, forgetting the beach. "And I can give it to you."

  Chapter Seven

  Stuart

  Rose's thighs drape apart for me like I knew they would. Her head falls back and she closes her eyes, ready to take all that I have to give her.

  I work over her nub through the cotton, feeling how it soaks and sops against the fabric, and then I snap and expose her to the sunlight in one deft motion. Her panties tangle around my fist and end up somewhere in the sand down below. It doesn't matter. All I care about is feeling her smooth, wet pussy against my hard, rough fingers. They're such a perfect combination.

  I think we might have been made for each other.

  "Do you feel better now?" I ask, staying close to her ear, enjoying the way she wilts against me when I excite the little nerve endings on her neck and right behind her earlobe.

  "Yes," she groans, bucking against my hand. She places her own palms behind her for balance as she grinds forward. "Yes, I feel better."

  I flick my fingers over her nub again and again, sending her eyeballs rolling way back in her head, and I'm seriously thinking about burying my head between her legs and eating her out on this big rock, right in front of the villa, too. Fuck it, right? This is Mystique Island.

  "Oh, yeah," Rose moans as she nears orgasm.

  I slip two fingers inside of her and feel her muscles twist around my fingers, begging for my cock. I can almost hear her pussy calling to him, like they're soulmates... and I want to do everything with her. I want to eat her out. I want to fuck her. But right now, I'm just going to make her explode. Then we can worry about me.

  I pump her hard with two fingers, pressing my thumb against her clit to really drive all the sensation home. She shudders and calls out to me like she needs help. "It's too much," she begs, eyes still squeezed shut. "I'm gonna… I'm gonna…"

  "Baby girl, I'm not going to help you," I tell her, only driving harder into that airtight snatch. "I'm the one doing it to you."