Mr. Santa

by Shana Vanterpool

  I shimmied them down my legs. Maybe all this time, all he needed was some time of his own. My bare ass met the cold counter as my sweats fell from my ankles and pooled around his feet.

  “Roll over.” When I frowned, he grabbed my jaw forcefully in his grasp, making my wet pussy wetter. “Roll over. Press your stomach to the counter. I warned you, my bad Noelle. If I have to make you, you won’t like the outcome.”

  “Doubt that,” I purred, flicking my tongue at him. I moved free of his grasp and did what he told me to do, giving him my ass to spank. “Like this, Daddy Santa?”

  His hand palmed my left cheek. “Is it terrible how hard that makes my cock?”

  “Yes.”

  He chuckled at the same time he spanked me.

  I cried out, gritting my teeth. “You want to be my daddy, Micha?”

  “No.” He spanked me again, this time harder. “I want to be the man you think I am.” His spanks increased in strength. “Do you have any idea what your feelings are doing to mine?” He moved to my right cheek. “They’re nothing like mine. I’m a monster. A cold empty monster.” He palmed me gently. “But I’m not to you, am I, Noelle?”

  I shook my head, arching my ass in the air for him to take the hint. “Ahh,” I cried, the sting of his hand clouding me with lust. “You’re a strong, loyal, giving man. You took me in. Oh, Micha,” I moaned when he found my wet slit from behind.

  “Keep going.” His fingers plunged inside of me, fighting the tightness.

  I tried to open my legs for him, but he pressed my thighs together, pumping his thick fingers relentlessly. His speed was jarring. I couldn’t think about anything else. A crack of his hand slapped off my ass.

  “Keep going or I’ll stop.” His fingers paused.

  “I’ll keep going, I’ll keep going.” I moaned in relief when his fingers resumed pounding into me. “You’re the only man in my entire life I know would never hurt me. You’d never abandon me, would you, Micha?” I tried humping his hand, but he held my lower back down with his elbow, making it so I was dependent on him. “I need you,” I revealed, feeling the sting of tears burn in my eyes as he removed his fingers and began stroking my clit.

  It was so strange to feel so lost in pleasure and so fearful of my need at the same time.

  “I abandoned my family.” He circled my clit in the most erotic way.

  This slow tempting circle, like he’s known my clit his entire life. “No you didn’t. You’re struggling, that’s all. You’re not the same anymore. But they still love you.” I hung my head as my clit pulsed, on the edge of an orgasm.

  “Why am I struggling?”

  “War. You went to war. I knew it. I know it now. You close yourself off. But you don’t have to.”

  “Roll over,” he demanded gruffly. I tried, slipping my sweaty knees on the counter before falling on my back. He moved between my legs and stared down at my pussy as he talked. “I abandoned you too.” He crouched, putting his mouth at eye level with my pussy. It shimmered from my wetness in the darkened room. His beard made shivers break out where it tickled my inner thighs. “Feet on the counter.” I lifted them for him, opening myself up for his tongue. When it connected with my clit, I bowed, a prisoner to him for as long as he wanted to enslave me.

  “No you didn’t abandon me.” I sat up, grabbing a fist full of his hair to hold on to some part of him. He gave me his free hand as if he knew it wasn’t enough. Our fingers tangled on my stomach as I rode his tongue. “You saved my life, Micha Santa. And you kept my heart safe for eight years.” I exploded under his tongue, opening my mouth in a soundless scream. I sagged back when the pulsing in my clit ebbed.

  When I looked down at him between my legs, he was gazing up at me. “Eight years is a long time.”

  I squeezed his hand still in mine. “It was worth every second.”

  He pressed a kiss to my thigh and then rose, letting my hand go. “Stay,” he growled, when I tried to sit up. “I’m not done with you yet. I just need food.”

  “So do I.” But I didn’t move, loving the feeling of being naked and exposed on his kitchen counter. I put my hands behind my head and left my legs open, wondering if my pussy was willing to visit me in the psyche ward, because I was already starving for his tongue.

  He grabbed the can of soup and found a pot, pouring it out in a gross white gloopy blob. “Hmm,” he murmured. Then he looked at me, expression almost sad. “Merry Christmas to you too.”

  I tried to sit up, but laid back down when he glared. “How was it? It’s almost over. Better decide now.”

  “Honestly?”

  “Yes.”

  “It was the best damn Christmas I’ve had in years.”

  I beamed at him, grinning in a way I was sure I never had. So wide and heartfelt it made my eyes burn from the effort of holding back unshed tears. “Really?”

  “Really.” He smiled back, a soft special smile I wasn’t used to him giving me. It made me realize we were having a moment and I was naked from the waist down because he’d just buried his tongue in my pussy. After, might I add, he spanked me. It was the best damn moment in my life.

  “I love you,” I whispered, meaning every single word from a part of my soul only meant for him.

  He held my gaze, taking my love like the man I knew him to be. Strong, loyal. He may not feel even a smidgen of it, but I felt it enough for us both to wait.

  “Autumn never said it that way.” He cleared his throat. “I used to wonder whether she stayed with me because she loved me, or because she got pregnant. Before Winter we weren’t head over heels, let’s just say that.”

  I didn’t want to hear that. Mr. and Mrs. Santa may not be together anymore, but they were the only family I knew. Before my love for him became as consuming as it was now, there was the Santa’s. Two people who loved each other enough to snuff out the lack of love I’d had growing up. It had to be real, even if it wasn’t anymore. “She loved you.”

  “I know,” he promised, surprising me. “But I also know she no longer does. You know why she’s upset tonight? It isn’t because of me. We haven’t slept together in years. We left each other a long time ago. The divorce was simply a legality. It’s because Tyson Monroe won’t tell his wife about them. That’s why she’s upset.” There was no remorse in his eyes. Not a shred of regret. It was like he didn’t love her anymore at all.

  I sat up, ignored his grunt of displeasure, and put my sweats back on. I couldn’t think. I started pacing the kitchen. Up and down, back and forth. He got a spoon and hopped up on the counter where I’d been, eating his soup right from the pan like he hadn’t dropped that little piece of information on me.

  “She’s with Tyson? The Tyson? But he’s married. I mean, they’re really married.” I gawked at him. “Micha.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Wait, when you said she’d hurt herself, you weren’t talking about over you?”

  He shook his head, tranquilly eating his soup.

  He wasn’t pissed at all that his ex-wife was screwing the neighbor? The same man who’d cleaned their pool. “Isn’t he like my age?”

  He smirked cockily, giving me a heated look. “Autumn’s a year younger than me.”

  I rolled my eyes, but I guessed he was right. Tyson grew up next door, and I grew up down the hall. Autumn was a gorgeous woman, named after her topaz eyes. Winter was named after the wintery shade of her blue eyes. I dreaded the day she had a kid with green eyes. I could only imagine the shit Spring would have to deal with. “Well. How do you feel about it?”

  Shrugging, he wiped his mouth off on the back of his hand and set the empty pot down. “I want her to be happy. If that’s with Tyson, then so be it. If it’s with someone else, then by all means. She’s the mother of my children. I want what’s best for her.”

  Why was that so hot? I ignored my reaction and crossed my arms over my chest. “She was here with him, wasn’t she?”

  “I think so.”

  I wasn’
t buying his blasé attitude. “Micha. It’s all right to be hurt. It’s okay to miss your wife, to feel betrayed. You won’t hurt my feelings.”

  “So if I told you I’ve never felt more alone than I did the day I heard my wife screwing in our marital bed as I slept in your old room, you’d be able to handle that?”

  My heart broke for him. My poor Micha. “Yes. I’m not an insensitive idiot. I’ve never been jealous of your wife. My love is mine. I always respected your relationship. You thought I hated you. I did a pretty good job at it. I don’t need validation from anyone else. Now, if you hooked up with anyone else after your wife, that’s a different story.” I pretended to examine my fingernails. Then I peeked at him. “Have you?”

  He gave me a soft knowing smile. “No.”

  “No one at all? Because I’d probably have to hunt her down and shove candy canes up her ass until she started sweating red and white peppermint goo out through her huge slutty Micha stealing pores.” I smiled sweetly. “You know that like 800,000 people a year get gonorrhea, right? Think about it the next time you want to eat another woman’s pussy.”

  I stomped toward him, but he grabbed my wrists just in time and spun me around, backing me up between his legs.

  He put his mouth over my ear. “Please tell me you’re not psychotic and jealous on top of a yellow snow pusher?”

  I smiled at the stove, leaning into his touch. “I’ve actually never really been jealous before. I’ve never cared about anyone but you.”

  “Not even that one guy? What was his name? Bessa?” he teased, kissing below my ear. “You brought him home for Easter.”

  I cringed. Hessa Norbert was a product of Winter’s insistence I get serious. She’d invited him to dinner. Not me. “He, like every man I’ve ever dated, could never quite compete with you.” I pulled back to meet his gaze. “You’re going to destroy me, you know that, right?” My teasing evaporated. “After I leave this cabin there’s a huge chance we go in different directions.” I rotated, snagging handfuls of his shirt. “Let’s not talk about everyone else. It doesn’t matter. For me, it’s only ever been you. I’d like to keep pretending that’s how it’s going to be later.”

  He stared, eyes boring into mine as his own tried to hide his feelings. He was confused, I understood that. I imagined lust played a huge part in this. He felt alone, around me he never would. Not to mention the sex we’d managed to have had been the kind where I didn’t have to check with him to know he felt the connection. There were many pulls toward giving in to this, but the one pull I wanted may not exist.

  Love.

  I freed myself from him and went over to the cupboard, feeling an attack of fear and neglect so intense it reminded me of the moment I realized my father was never coming back.

  I found a can of tomato soup and a box of instant cinnamon apple oatmeal. Shrugging, I poured water from the jug on the counter into the kettle, and used his pan, all while I tried to overlook his eyes on my body, in my brain, trying to sift through thoughts he hadn’t known existed yesterday.

  “She broke my heart.”

  My spoon halted half way to my mouth. I met his eyes, finding them burning. “Autumn?”

  “I pushed her away, but I hadn’t done it because I didn’t love her. I did love her, but I couldn’t stop the memories in my brain and be a good husband. Self-preservation ruined my marriage. I accept we’re over. I’ve had a long time to do so. There’s nothing to go back to, but it took a long time to accept the fact that my wife let me push her away.” And then his vulnerability shone through blindly. “You’d never let me push you away, would you? All these years and here you are.” He snorted in quiet disbelief. “You can do so much better, honey. There are men out there your age who don’t have a shit ton of baggage that’ll weigh you down.”

  I smiled sadly into my tomato soup. “You forgot something.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I have a shit ton of baggage too.” I took my food with me to the fire, eating on my own. I stared into the fire for so long the room around me blackened. Candles came to life, creating an amber glow over the room.

  The squeak of the pullout bed sounded behind me. I didn’t realize I was shivering until I imagined how good it would feel to curl up next to him. Sleeping with the man I loved. His body heat, his hardness wrapped around my softness.

  “Put another log in, please. And then come to bed.”

  I closed my eyes to push the tears aside and did what he asked. Then I crawled in beside him. He dropped his quilts over me. He pulled me to his chest, molding my back to his long length. My ass fit comfortably against his groin. His arms were tight. He smelled so good my nose inhaled too quickly, making me lightheaded. But it was his warmth that soothed me.

  His intense hot consuming warmth. I’d never been hungrier for heat.

  “You feel so good,” he whispered, holding me even tighter. “So warm. I missed this part of being with a woman. The softness of your skin, the smell of your hair. There’s no way I’m allowed to feel this.”

  I didn’t comment, on the edge of sleep. The warmth was too much for my body. For his sudden attack of regret.

  “This is insane,” his deep voice said in the dark. “You know that, right?”

  “Shut up and go to sleep.”

  “You’re a kid.”

  “I’m twenty-one. I’m an adult. Get over it, Micha. So you knew me when I was a kid. Big deal. The only thing different is that my boobs are bigger. And it’s a little too late to think about this now.”

  “It’s kind of hard to contemplate morality when you’re sitting on my lap,” he hissed in the dark. “On your knees. Those perky pale tits pointed at me. Damn, Noelle. They’re an incredible pair of tits.” He answered his own question with a deep groan. “You’re you. I raised you like my own. Now that you’re not moaning my name in the bathroom it’s hard to understand how the hell you got me here.” To prove where here was, he pressed a kiss below my ear, a very intimate gesture from a man I was sure hadn’t been intimate in years.

  “Why do we have to think about this in detail? We’ve already done it. We’ve done more in one day than most couples do in years. It’s too late to second guess your choices, Micha.”

  “I’m not second guessing my choices,” he said, surprising me. “I’m trying to understand what kind of man would want to do the bad disgusting things to you that I want to do.”

  I grinned into his pillow. “The man I love, that’s who.”

  Silence settled between until he said my name, jarring me from my half-asleep slumber.

  “I want to love you that much. I want to love you more than you love me, Noelle. But I’m… lost right now. I don’t know what to do.” He sighed sadly as the pain of his words settled into my heart. “Go to sleep. I want to feel this for as long as I can.”

  He wrapped me impossibly tighter in his arms, locked our feet together, and found my hand pressed against my breasts, interlacing his fingers on top of mine.

  Did this happen to be me?

  Chapter Six

  Micha

  I didn’t want to wake yet.

  The moment I did, my common sense would demand to know what the hell I was doing wrapped around my daughter’s best friend.

  It would want to know why she felt so damn good. So soft and warm, so willing to lay beside me. It had been years since anyone wanted to brave being around me. Noelle had been here for such a short time, but I already feared what would happen if she left.

  Her long tight body fit inside of mine perfectly. Her ass nestled against my groin in a way that made me want inside. She snored quietly in my arms, making my head fog over with too many things all at once.

  My thoughts were jumbled, but they weren’t unidentifiable. For the past year, they’d been dark and empty, turning over the failings of my marriage, the idea of going back to war, and all the dark disgusting memories I had of the last two tours.

  I flinched at a flash of blood and sweat, dripping down my
face as my commanding officer screamed in agony. His blood was all over my hands. For weeks, I scrubbed it out from under my fingernails. Even now, in the dark, it looked like it was still there.

  I felt weak.

  I was supposed to be strong, emotionless. Been in the army since I was eighteen. After Winter was born, Autumn and I had little choices. Her parents weren’t in a position to help us take care of a kid. We were only fourteen when she got pregnant. After the scandal of teen pregnancy wore off, she graduated high school while I got my GED and worked mindless hours at a mechanic’s shop until I could enlist. I was an artillery mechanic my first tour in Iraq, trained only for combat if need be.

  If need be, unfortunately, came much too soon.

  My orders were given to me a month after Autumn asked for a divorce. Twelve months in Yemen, active duty, no leave. My heart twisted fearfully in my chest.

  My strength was draining. Too many breaks in my armor had left me freezing my balls off alone in my cabin for weeks. I had barely enough inside of me to deal with myself, let along the entire world. Losing my wife, pushing away my son, letting my daughter live her life, twelve months of active duty—I closed my eyes and pressed my face in Noelle’s hair, inhaling her sweet fresh scent. I held it in my lungs until my panic and pain ebbed.

  Three more years in the army, and I could retire. 36 months.

  I could do it.

  I didn’t know who I’d come home to, who I’d have to be. My kids didn’t need me. My wife had moved on with the neighbor boy. I looked down at my Noelle, because I thought maybe that’s who she’d always been.

  Mine.

  I just hadn’t known it.

  She loved me?

  What was there left to love? I’d been a father and husband for so long I didn’t know what was left. She’d be picking at my crumbs.

  She didn’t deserve crumbs, not after the life she’d lived. Being abandoned by her parents and being forced into another family would harden anyone’s heart. But it only made hers stronger. More resilient. She was a stunning capable woman.