by Taryn Quinn
She’d been thinking of this as much as I had.
Since last night?
Even before I knew who she was, I’d dreamed of her. Last night when the whiskey hadn’t done its job, I’d woken in a tangle of sweat and lonely sheets. My cock had been beyond morning wood. It had taken two cold showers and a pitiful jack-off session to kill the crazy memory of her in my arms.
Her hips twitched lightly under my hold, reminding me of last night. Of her unconscious rhythm in the moment. She was slightly more stilted here, not so sure of herself.
I didn’t mind.
I didn’t want her at ease. I’d rather have her on edge and uncomfortable. Just as I was. Because this wasn’t going to be a release. It was just a promise of what was to come.
I brought one hand around to the front of her, my thumb following the fragile lace edge. I dragged the material over to reveal her pussy. Smooth. Completely bare.
Jesus.
I hadn’t been expecting that.
I peered up to find her chest rising and falling faster. Her fingers twisted into the crumpled velvet of her skirt.
“That’s right. Hold that skirt up for me, Miss Kane.”
Her head thunked against the door again. Her frosted pink lids covered her huge eyes. The fringe of dark lashes lay against her freckle-spattered cheeks. Innocence and the gloss of New York shouldn’t be attractive to me. Not at this point in my life.
I didn’t trust the innocence.
I hadn’t for a long time.
“Open your eyes.” The husky anger in my voice made her eyes pop open. “No pretending it didn’t happen when that door opens.”
“I…”
Her words trailed off as I fastened my mouth over the top of her lips. I slid my tongue through her wetness and dragged in a long breath of her. Woman and cinnamon with that salty hit of lust arcing between us.
It was there last night.
It was here now.
I lifted her knee over my shoulder to get closer. To taste more of her.
Her fingers went right for my hair and she tugged hard. She dragged in a breath and held it. Her heartbeat was on my tongue as I feasted between her legs.
She kept dragging in big gulps of air without releasing them. As if she was sucking all the oxygen in to use without letting her body process it.
I gripped her ass until she cried out from the tight hold and finally let out a ragged breath. Then all bets were off. I dove deep, lapping up her endless liquid heat. After every thrust of my tongue, I backed off to tease her clit and squeeze her ass at the same time.
Her hips went from jerky shock to a smooth undulating roll with every flick of my tongue. We had an instant matching rhythm again just like last night.
The irrational anger of just how perfect she fit me was banked under her flavor. I tamped down the urge to let her fly. I knew her cum would taste sweet, but I wanted her as wound up as I was.
No release.
I wanted her hungry for me the next time I touched her.
I drew the material back over her swollen lips and sunk my teeth into the soft skin of her inner thigh.
“What are you doing?”
“It’s time to get down to the party, Miss Kane.”
“What?” She shook her head. The blue of her eyes went from hazy to ice. “You sadistic bastard. You did that on purpose.”
I stood, my lips and beard still wet from her. I knew that even if I washed my face, she’d still linger—cinnamon and spice, with a hint of vanilla. I crowded her at the door again, my mouth hovering over hers. “I did. Incentive to finish up our Santa and Hot Elf routine.”
Her nostrils flared and my death—or at least maiming—was alive in her eyes. I grinned and took a step back. I reached between my shoulder blades and dragged my shirt off. I didn’t have the patience for buttons or any more layers. My skin was a riot of heat from unrequited lust.
What I wanted to do was to wrap her legs around my waist and fuck her into my door. Instead I went back to my closet and pulled down the box with the last of my Santa gear.
It had been a long time since I’d donned my beard and wig.
Back then I’d taken care to ensure that the children would never know it was me. I was the jolly old man with white hair, a ready smile for them, and a sack full of presents. I’d believed in the hope and light of the season.
I curled my fingers into a fist before releasing the locks on the box.
She’d better be worth this.
6
Kay
I wasn’t sure when I’d been this angry. Shaking and about thirty seconds from crying ugly tears angry.
The worst part? I was as angry at myself as I was at the man transforming into Santa before my very eyes.
There was a reason why I didn’t date. An even bigger reason why I had a distinct lack of skills with the opposite sex. And it wasn’t normal, I knew that. I got myself so worked up and inside my head that I froze up.
It had happened here, with him.
The terror and the nerves had metastasized until I’d seen nothing but black dots from lack of oxygen. Then he’d dragged me back. He’d actually put me on the path to a mind-blowing orgasm. None of my self-inflicted ones had been as powerful as the one that had just been building inside of me.
Then nothing.
Why couldn’t I be normal?
Why couldn’t I just enjoy sex like any other red-blooded woman? Especially the ones in New York City who breathed sex as easily as the smog and carbon monoxide overriding our streets. Nope. I had to be the freak who had a near anxiety attack.
Oh, and then when I’d finally had a breakthrough…denied.
I had to be attracted to the Orgasm Snatcher.
Fuck me.
Oh, and to make everything better, the Orgasm Snatcher had the most amazing back I’d ever seen up close. Fluid muscles broad at the shoulder tapered down to a lean waistline with a butt that put most men to shame. Mel usually teased me that a guy that had junk in his trunk wasn’t necessarily packing.
Fallacy.
Sweet mercy, there was no denying that Lincoln Murdock had reason to be cocky. And perhaps a man built like that wasn’t exactly the best option to be my first. Then again, if his mouth was any indication, he knew what the hell he was doing.
And that could only be huge, bold checks in the plus column.
All of the checks.
Did I mention the bold part?
I swallowed as he slowly went from rugged guy with a body that didn’t belong sitting at a desk to a professional Santa who put my best guys to shame. His beard didn’t move in the least. Hell, it looked even more authentic than Charlie—my older Santa with a real beard. When he pulled on a vest outfitted with a foam belly, I was dumbfounded.
How could this grumpy Gus possibly have a Santa suit like this in his closet?
He grabbed a thin cotton shirt and pulled it over the…well, I guess it was a fat suit. No other description fit. I was about to ask him about it when he dropped his jeans.
Not even a damn warning. Was he trying to kill a girl?
Navy boxer briefs left very little to the imagination. At least from the back.
“Holy crap.”
He looked over his shoulder at me, a sly grin pulling at his beard. The twinkle in his gaze had nothing to do with Santa. He kicked off his motorcycle boots and jeans and stepped into crushed red velvet pants. They were made for him at the waist while the rest gave the appearance of a stockier leg. When he shrugged on the jacket, Santa was complete.
Less than ten minutes ago I’d been ready to let Lincoln pretty much do what he wanted to me. Now he’d transformed into the sweet and jovial St. Nick.
Well, almost.
There was still far too much heat banked in his crazy bright blue eyes, but at least I could think again. And I couldn’t stop smiling at him.
Who needed Jason when I had alpha Santa in my midst?
“That’s an impressive transformation, Mr. Murdock. A
m I really supposed to believe a man who has that kind of Santa suit in his closet hates Christmas?”
He crossed to me. “There’s only one reason I’m wearing this suit.”
“To make your employees happy?”
“No. To make sure you’re naked for the next forty-eight hours.”
My brain shorted out for a second. I swallowed and lifted my chin. “You keep changing the parameters of this deal.”
“When you have a bargaining chip, then we can discuss the deal again.”
“Hard to see you as a Scrooge when you’re wearing rouge on your cheeks.”
He slid his hand around my waist and dragged me into him. The hard planes of his body were still obvious even with layers of foam between us. “You have braids and striped stockings on. I am thinking less than innocent thoughts about the woman under the costume.” He pulled a red hat out of his pocket and tugged it over his white hair. “And if I have to put my acting cap on for an hour to get those long legs wrapped around my neck, then my hips, I’ll do it.”
I frowned. “Can you really hate it that much?”
“I can.”
Confusion pushed some of the lust-fog out of my brain. There had to be a story. “Then why make the deal?”
His eyes glittered. Anger and pain flared so bright and hard, I took a step back. “I want you that much. I will fuck you out of my system and maybe one Christmas will have a good memory.” He moved me aside and strode out of the room.
I stumbled to the desk and held onto the cool surface for a moment. Christmas had been my favorite season before I started my company. The season of hope and happiness had been the center of my life. My mother and father had been so enamored with the season they’d named me after one of the staples for gifts and Christmas trees.
There was nothing about Christmas that I didn’t love.
Perhaps I was just what he needed. Beyond the sex, there was a little hope in my heart. Maybe I could show him that Christmas could be the season of giving.
And not just orgasms. Though I couldn’t deny I was okay with the thought of a few orgasms in my future.
I straightened my clothes and rushed out to find him standing in front of the elevator.
The doors slid open and Parker Murdock stood there. Relief washed over his features. “You found him—” He squinted, then his eyes grew wide. “Linc? I didn’t think you’d actually do it.”
“Shut up.”
“You know Mom is downstairs, right?”
“I do,” he said between clenched teeth. Very un-Santa-like.
I tugged on his sleeve.
Linc let out a growly sigh. “Yes, Hot Elf?”
My eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me? Hot Elf isn’t appropriate.”
“I’m thinking you don’t want me to use Miss Kane downstairs. Or would you prefer I use your first name? Which would be?”
“My name is Kandy.”
“You can’t be serious.” His eyebrow winged up.
“So says the man with the professional Santa suit in his closet.”
“Touché.”
“Mr. Murdock—the other one—where’s my assistant?”
Parker stopped staring at his brother long enough to look at me. The elevator dinged and he slapped his hand over the sliding doors to keep it open. “She’s downstairs with Jordan.”
“Did you find someone else to fill the role?”
I frowned. There was a lot of hope in Linc’s voice.
“No. I was coming up to find Miss Kane.” Parker stood to the side of the car. “Well, come on in. The kids are starting to show up.” His lips twitched. “They’re asking for you, Santa.”
“Fuck off.” Lincoln’s boots clomped as he boarded the elevator. He looked me over. “Ready, Hot Elf?”
I followed him across the threshold. “Ready, Scrooge.”
Parker tapped the button for the third floor. “This is going to be interesting.”
The trip down from the executive offices to the lower level was silent. Mostly with Linc fuming under his beard.
Back in my element, I walked ahead of them and met a pacing Mel outside the banquet room. Her face was blotchy with tears.
She grabbed my forearms. The problem with Mel was that she knew the ins and outs of the business as well as I did. She knew just how important this job was. “What are we going to do?”
“We’re set.”
She sniffed, hope and shock warring on her face. “What?”
“Call it a Christmas Scrooge miracle.”
“I don’t care if he’s drunk and weaving. Where did you find a Santa?”
I barked out a short laugh.
Mel winced. “Oh, God. How much did it cost?”
My virginity.
Not like he knew that. And honestly, I was excited to get rid of it. And maybe, just maybe get out of my own way when it came to men. I had to look at the positives or I’d lose my mind.
Linc came up behind me. He was just tall enough to make me feel petite. We lined up in so many other ways, and I was becoming inordinately attracted to his Santa suit. Not good.
Mel’s eyes widened. “Who is that? And can we hire him for different kinds of Christmas parties?”
I rolled my eyes. “Rein in your hormones.” The pop of his knuckles went through me. I wanted to ignore him, but he made it very difficult. “Mr. Murdock was kind enough to help us out.”
Mel’s eyes went from Linc to mine and back again. A little wrinkle formed between her eyebrows. I tried to wipe all the worry and nerves out of my facial expression. Mel knew me far too well. Every last shred of acting would be required out of both of us to pull this off.
My knees were still shaking from his mouth on me, and the release I’d been denied. The man was crazy-making in more than one way.
I caught him pulling a pair of snow white gloves out of his pocket. He tugged them on as he walked to the banquet door and rolled his neck until all his vertebrae popped.
Was it really so hard to do this? Santa was the one person everyone was happy to see. Even those who didn’t believe in the season or the spirit of Christmas had to smile at Santa.
Only heartless people could resist.
I moved to his side. His unearthly blue eyes glittered and his full lips were pressed in a hard line. He was going to scare the kids. I handed him a red pouch of candy canes, then slipped my hand into his and squeezed. “Happy face, Santa. Remember, you want to be here.”
He turned those fierce eyes on me, and I sucked in a shaky breath. “My happy place will be between your thighs. Don’t forget that.” His hold firmed on my hand before he pushed open the door with a ringing, “Ho, Ho, Ho!”
I was pretty sure I was as starry-eyed as the children as he transformed from Scrooge to jovial Santa right before my eyes. He swooped into the room and went right down on his knee for a sunny blond-haired child. Her little mouth went round as he held a red, white, and green candy cane in front of her.
“What’s your name, little one?”
“Danielle.”
“I’ll be passing out presents in a few minutes. Think you can tell everyone?”
She plucked the candy out of his hand with a nod. “Yes, I can do that.”
“Excellent.”
She ran into the crowd of children with blond curls and red taffeta flying.
An older woman across the room stopped mid-sentence and placed her hand on her chest. For a moment, I was worried she was going to have a heart attack. But she covered her mouth and turned around. I didn’t have time to worry about her because Santa dragged me into the circle of children.
If I hadn’t seen Linc upstairs with his growls and snark, I’d never have known he hated this. He was patient with the children, making sure to talk to each of them. A chair that could have been in any throne room was set up next to the fifteen foot Christmas tree. I’d made sure the presents were ready for Jason while readying the room earlier.
The huge red and gold sack was just outside the door. I tried
to detangle my hand, but Linc held on with an iron grip. Something told me not to force the issue. Instead I played it up and popped up on my tiptoes so I could whisper into his ear. “Presents are just outside that door.”
He turned his face until our lips were far too close. Then he faced the kids. “Who wants presents?”
A chorus of happy voices saying “me!” filled the room. The murmur of parents seemed a little loud, but I couldn’t concentrate on that. I needed to get this show on the road. The food would be out in less than an hour.
“I need my…elf’s help. One moment, children.” With a flourish, Linc turned and dragged me across the room. He pushed me out the door into the hallway between the kitchen and main room. My heel banged into a particularly big box. I turned to hand him the bag when he crowded me into the wall.
“Mr. Murdock,” I said with a startled breath.
“Santa requires a little incentive.”
“But you’re a natural.”
His eyes hardened. “I used to be.” His body was stiff against mine. Not just the undeniable muscles under his suit, but a tension that had nothing to do with seduction.
I lifted a hand to his face. “The kids love it.”
He leaned closer. I was certain he was going to kiss me, when suddenly, he backed away from me, then snatched the bag off the floor and swung the door open, leaving me in the hall.
7
Scrooge
I stalked back into the banquet room. My fingers were numb from the grip on the bag, not to mention the unrelenting twist of the velvet cord around my wrist. A familiar weight. One I’d looked forward to all year—once upon a time.
When things had been far less complicated.
When a child’s laughter had been an echo to look back on, and perhaps look forward to in the future. And not just because of my Santa gear.
Lock it away.
It was the only way to survive this season.
I’d survive it again. I always did. Even on the blackest nights of the Christmas season, from Christmas Eve into the actual day, I would breathe because I had to. There was no choice. I wouldn’t let her—and that day—beat me.