Naughty List

by Willa Edwards

  Eric released a deep, resigned breath as his hand slammed down against her, right where her thigh and the curve of her ass melded together. His touch gained confidence as she whimpered and quivered. “If you think this is normal, you might be the naughtiest girl on my list.” He swatted her again in the same place on the other side. “I’m more than happy to give you what you deserve.” He smacked again, catching both her cheeks at once. “I love punishing naughty girls. Especially when they want it as much as I do.”

  He slapped her three more times, each one creating sparkling tendrils of pleasure through her like heated tinsel, before he took a moment to stop. His fingers traced the edge of her panties, each of Callie’s nerves heating and glowing like a bright Christmas light at his touch. She moaned helplessly, pushing into his hand as his fingers trailed punishingly slow along her skin, each minute movement amplified against her abused, ultrasensitive flesh.

  “Your ass is so beautiful, baby,” he whispered into her ear, low and seductive. “Red as a cherry, warm and so responsive.” He rubbed his palm in slow circles along her rounded behind, her muscles shaking.

  “Eric,” she gasped, bucking on his lap, thrashing, unsure how to ask for what she needed.

  Understanding her plea without words, Eric rubbed his palm across her upper thigh and ass, settling and spreading the hot burn there, while increasing the ache elsewhere. His fingers smoothed up her legs, slipping beneath the elastic leg bands of her underwear, pushing them aside to thrust a finger into her, fast, hard, deep. Before she could even take a gasping breath he thrust in another finger, forcing a scream from her lips.

  “This is a very naughty pussy,” he growled, stroking in and out as she quivered, wetness weeping between her legs. He smacked his hand down upon her again, the heat racing over her skin and settling deep inside her pussy.

  “Very naughty,” he groaned into her ear. His hand curved, rubbing against her clit in a circular motion. “Feel how it responds to me. So warm, wet, tight.”

  She mewled at the rough words in her ear. He slapped her again, the resounding noise echoing around the room.

  A tremor ripped through her, her cunt convulsing around him. He twirled his fingers inside her, teasing her. The gnawing need spiraling, coiling tighter, until her muscles quivered. He swatted her again, smacking both cheeks in succession, sending her over the edge as her pussy tightened around him.

  She screamed as the orgasm exploded over her. Red, dark, and demanding. The heat and electricity pulsed through her, strong enough to power a whole city’s worth of Christmas trees. Sweat dotted her skin, gathering at her hairline, between her breasts, and at the base of her neck. Her back arched. Her body thrashed against Eric’s fingers as they continued to thrust into her, riding through each quiver and convulsion of the most powerful orgasm of her life.

  In small parcels she came back to herself. Eric smoothed his fingers over her body, paying special attention to her reddened ass, the sensitive dimples along her lower back, the extended nerves racing from her spine. Her head slumped under the weight of her pleasure. She pressed her sore cheeks into Eric’s velveteen-covered thighs to hide her embarrassingly satisfied smile.

  “That was amazing.” He purred against her neck, the warm vibrations prickling her skin. “So beautiful.”

  She couldn’t remember the last time someone had called her beautiful. Josh hadn’t been one for compliments. She hadn’t realized how much she missed being doted on, admired, loved. Her already vulnerable heart glowed at Eric’s adoring words.

  She brushed her lips along his knee, grazing him with a long, drawn-out kiss. If she didn’t watch out, she was going to become too attached. This was only her gift, only for tonight. She had to remember that, or tomorrow, when he got up and left, her heart might scatter into a million sharp pieces like a dropped glass ornament.

  “Have you been punished enough?” he asked, shifting his knees beneath her so his hard pole stuck deeper into her stomach. Saliva gathered in her mouth. She was definitely ready for the next step, whatever that may be.

  “Yes,” she moaned. He held his hand threateningly still against her flesh, her muscles spasming like the burn of an iron against her back. She swallowed, her pussy convulsing at the dominance in his steady touch. “Yes, Santa.”

  “Good,” he growled into her ear, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end and her nipples peak, hard and achy.

  Callie shifted across his lap, pushing her palms forward, releasing the plush pant leg she’d grabbed in the heat of her punishment. Her arms shifted against the strong, soft ribbon holding her bound. He had to release her now. He couldn’t keep her this way, not the whole night, Callie convinced herself, wetness weeping between her legs at the idea of remaining wrapped.

  Eric laughed above her, as if reading her mind. “I’m not through with you yet.” His tone was dark, thick, husky. “I don’t plan on releasing you until I’ve granted every Christmas wish on your naughty list, and more.” Callie shook at his words, needy and desperate all over again, regardless of her recent tree-topping orgasm.

  Chapter Three

  Gripping her shoulders, Eric leveled Callie up, helping her stand on shaky legs. His own body was shaking as well. His cock was so hard he thought he might have trouble standing. He’d dreamed of being with Callie for years, loving her in every position, vulnerable and open to him, decked in erotic clothing, from thongs and teddies to whipped cream and latex.

  But he never could have envisioned she’d be this responsive. Screaming, crying, moaning, whimpering in his arms. A pang throbbed deep in his heart, needing more. Now that he knew how she’d respond to his every tone and touch, they could never be just friends again. He loved her, completely and without condition. The only question left was when to tell her.

  She was beautiful, standing before him in her small nighttime tank and panties, her body toned from years of sports and days of chasing elementary school children as she taught them the games she loved. Her deep breaths pushed her small, supple breasts up against the soft jersey tank, her nipples pointing out suggestively.

  Her eyes were large and twinkling. Her sweet pink mouth parted on a gasp, kissably soft. His mouth watered, desperate to taste those lips, to explore her sweetness. He couldn’t stop himself. He didn’t want to.

  Eric leaned forward, brushing his lips along hers. She gasped, leaning into him the best she could in her bonds, her mouth opening enthusiastically. She returned his kiss, desperate, demanding, hungry. Her tongue twisted with his, brushing along his teeth and the inside of his lips.

  God, it felt good. She tasted amazing, like ambrosia-covered Christmas cookies.

  He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his chest, supporting her as she struggled to reach him in her confinement. This was how they should always be, touching, kissing, holding, making her come with blissful screams. He’d never thought he could have it all, everything he wanted in one amazing velvet-wrapped package.

  Eric pulled back, his lungs burning with lack of oxygen as his body longed to stay close. He smoothed his palms down her back, careful not to touch her molested ass. No doubt the sensitive area would continue to be rubbed through the rest of the night he had planned, but he didn’t want that pain invading their kiss. This kiss was about them, about the longing and need of four long, restrained years, the beauty of her lips. Not naughty wish lists, domination, or dark-pained passion.

  He kissed her temple, breathing in the vanilla spice smell of her hair, warm and sweet like fresh-baked apple pie. Her small body easily folded into his, comforting and soft, like coming home for the holidays. The rightness of the moment bounded through him, settling in his chest. This was where she was supposed to be, in his arms, held tight and cherished.

  He had a wild notion to untie her wrapping, to release her hands so she could caress him wherever she pleased, to enclose him in her embrace. He’d intended to keep her a prisoner all night long, to show her exactly how much pleasure he coul
d give her within her wrapping, slowly checking off each of her naughty wishes, some of them maybe twice. But suddenly the need to feel her fingers on him, exploring him as he did her, pulling him closer, demanding more, was almost overpowering.

  Callie arched her hips into him, brushing along the extended length of his cock. A growl ripped from his throat as she ground deeper into his groin, making the decision for him. Her eyes darkened to a deep pine. Her demand incited his dominant urges.

  “On the bed,” he commanded, releasing her with a slight tug on her bow. There would be plenty of time for soft loving and sweet words in the morning. He only had tonight to deliver all her naughty Christmas wishes.

  Callie nodded, her eyes large and glazed. There was a softness about her face, an ease she hadn’t possessed the day before. His chest swelled. He’d given that to her.

  He grabbed her chin, redirecting her eyes to his. He glared down at her, silent, tightening his thumb and forefinger a fraction. She mewled, soft as a kitten, her throat bobbing as she swallowed.

  “Yes Santa,” she recited in submission, licking her lips until he almost growled at her. The desire to pull her lush mouth back to his, holding her captive with his lips until she begged to call him Santa again, raged through him.

  He released her, dropping his arms to his sides, stepping back to give her space to submit to his commands. She wandered the few steps to the bed, her legs shaky beneath her. She shifted her arms, trying to release her fastenings, but they hardly moved, tied tight with a double-knotted bow.

  Callie let out a gasp as her roughened behind hit the cool sheets. The same sheets that had starred in so many of the fantasies he’d concocted around Callie over the years, close to but not anywhere as amazing as this night. The reality of Callie far exceeded the dream, and he’d only just begun. Pushing back and settling herself into the center of the bed, Callie lowered her head slightly, unaware of the beautifully submissive picture she made.

  Eric stalked to the foot of the bed, grabbing both of her ankles in his firm hands, tightening his grip until she pulled in a ragged sigh. “Keep your legs open.” He wrenched her feet apart, displaying her pink, swollen sex, partially concealed beneath her holiday cotton panties.

  “Yes Santa.”

  At her compliant words, a thrill arrowed through him, settling with molten fire in his already inflamed cock. She submitted beautifully, as if she’d been doing it her whole life, showing her complete trust in him. It was intoxicating, rousing his hidden urge for domination that rarely peeked beyond his fantasies.

  Eric wasn’t a commanding man. He’d been taught to be polite and respectful to women. He held doors, picked up the check, and offered his jacket when his dates were cold. But in the bedroom, another part of him snuck through, taking charge, claiming what he wanted, and giving in return.

  Eric leaned his knee onto the bed, straddling his leg over Callie’s hips, settling his groin in the perfect position against her excited flesh. Callie whimpered and shivered, flexing her fingers around a chunk of thick, fluffy comforter as he leaned over her, pressing his rock-hard erection farther into her pussy.

  He planted his palms on either side of her head, extended his thumbs to stroke the fiery curls at her temple. She rotated her neck, her eyes flaring as he caged her with his body as easily as he bound her with velvet. The tips of her breasts danced across his chest as another shudder raced through her. He settled down on her with an animalistic groan, every soft inch of her molding into him, crushing their bodies together.

  He traced his lips along the curve of her cheek, placing a kiss on the silky-smooth skin just below her ear, her breath ruffling his hair. He outlined the curve of her neck, enjoying the salty-sweet taste of her skin, intoxicating him, like drugging Christmas toddies.

  He smoothed his hands down to grip her shoulders as he sucked the skin at the juncture of her neck. He grasped and massaged her breasts. Her hard, sensitive nipples, no bigger than gumdrops, grazed his palms. Callie’s back arched, a soft, sighing moan escaping her lips.

  The pressure he applied pinned her rib cage flat on the bed as he kissed down the center of her body. His lips brushed the extrasensitive line of the deep ruby ribbon holding her tight.

  “Kiss me under the mistletoe,” he whispered, his fingertips tracing the red sparkly bubble letters across her breasts as he read them. A smile glided across his face as he brushed her throbbing, beaded nipples, peaking against the thin jersey, her breath hitching.

  “Don’t mind if I do.”

  His palms skimmed down her chest, gliding along her flat stomach to the elastic of her underwear, her muscles clenching beneath his touch.

  He caressed the clump of oval green leaves, white berries, and thick, bright bow printed on the panties, just above her pussy. The pad of his thumb stroked her slit as the scent of her already heady arousal wafted to his nostrils, her legs shaking around his shoulders.

  “Let me help you with these,” he murmured, lips poised inches above the smooth skin between her hip bones.

  He hooked his thumbs on either side of her holiday panties, yanking the fabric down her legs in three hasty pulls, illustrating his desperation in each touch. She lifted her hips off the bed, just as frantic to help him. He smoothed the length of her outer thighs, caressed the ultraresponsive skin behind her knees as he removed the cotton.

  He stared down at the thin strip of ginger hair outlining her pussy. Breathing deeply, his warm hands wrapped around her inner thighs, spreading her legs wide. A whimper of need rippled from her throat as his warm breath ruffled her moist, heated flesh. His entire body locked down, his nerves prickling like pine needles.

  Could he really be here? Between Callie’s legs, kissing her, touching her as he’d always fantasized? Her warm, moist sex open to him, submitting to him better than a dream. It was almost as impossible to believe as the jolly character he played. His gut churned with fire, dizzy at her beauty. Could such a Christmas wish come true?

  Callie screamed, long since resigning her every compulsion to Eric. Her hips arched as she squirmed beneath the warm, wet feel of his tongue slipping into her folds. For tonight at least, she was completely open to him, bare and vulnerable, in every way.

  She focused on breathing, the air gusting in and out of her lungs in rapid movements, her eyes watery and impossible to focus. This was her friend, between her thighs, his tongue licking and swirling inside her. And it felt amazing. Better than she’d fantasized. Better than any other man who’d ever been under her mistletoe.

  His tongue circled her entrance, spiraling the wet, warm sensation throughout her entire body. He used the very tip to map her sex, memorizing her every contour, discovering her sensitive clit. He sucked the tight ornament into his mouth as he spread her legs wider to accommodate his broad shoulders.

  He pinched her nipples through the soft cotton of her shirt, softly nipping her clit, forcing a surprised scream from her lungs.

  “You taste amazing,” Eric coached, his tongue tracing her opening in a slow, smooth stroke. “Creamy, thick, and sweet.” He plunged his tongue deeper, whirling it in varying circles until she panted. “Like eggnog.”

  Burying his fingers beneath her shirt, he pushed the thin jersey up, negotiating it around the ribbon still binding her. Her head swam as the cool room air wafted across her sweat-moistened skin. She panted at the satin-soft sensation of the velvet ribbon brushing along her previously unexplored flesh. Her small tank bunched around her neck, collecting the sweat gathered along her chest.

  Eric kissed the inside of her thigh. A needy groan escaped her as he switched sides, placing an equally long and torturous kiss to her other leg. His warm, rough palms circled her breasts, squeezing her molded flesh, stimulating her nipples to hard nubs. “Did I ever tell you I love eggnog?”

  Did he really expect her to answer? She was having trouble remembering to breathe, or swallow. Forming words was far beyond her capabilities.

  He smiled, placing another kiss at the
junction between her thigh and hip as a shuddered moan slipped from her lips. “It’s my favorite holiday dessert.

  “Better than peanut brittle.” He continued switching back and forth along her legs, using his soft lips and warm, wet tongue to torture her.

  “Or hot cocoa.” He dipped just the tip of his tongue inside her pussy, infuriating her with delicate tickling licks.

  “Or bread pudding.” He plunged his tongue deep, twirling it along her inner lining until she whimpered. “But I think you might be an even better Christmas treat.”

  “Eric,” she sobbed, her entire body hot, swollen, shivery. Her back ached from being bowed for so long. Her heart pounded in her ears like the beat of a drummer boy. He ignored her plea. His attention on her cunt remained constant, alternating between sucking hard on her clit and stabbing deep inside her.

  She shifted and screamed. Her back arched off the bed, her hips rocking, her body bucking up until she was riding his mouth. Her pussy convulsed, her muscles shuddering, pleasure enveloping her from head to toe.

  Her entire body tightened, taut as a bow. Fire washed over her. Her eyes blurred as stars sprinkled across her vision. A groan echoed from her throat, though she couldn’t hear it through the throbbing pulse in her ears. Her throat felt raw, itchy, and rough, like a woolen Christmas sweater.

  She slowly came down, calming to the sensation of his hands smoothing over her skin, comforting and soothing. In the heated moments of her orgasm she hadn’t realized he’d levied her into his lap, cradling her against his chest. Her head slumped against his shoulder, her neck loose, unable to hold the weight.

  “Again,” he whispered in her ear, his breath wafting over her sweat-slick skin, clumps of hair sticking to her neck. Her insides glowed at his praise. The need and heat only just quenched rebounded, slow and syrupy, deep inside her.