“Come here and sit on Santa’s lap and tell me what you want for Christmas.”
He braced a hand on either side of her ribs, slowly leading her forward through the open bedroom door. He pushed her past the bed, his grip tightening, demonstrating she had no room to move, no choice but to comply. Wetness gathered between her legs, her entire body shaking beneath his grasp.
How could this be her friend? The man she leaned on, the shoulder she cried on. The same guy who’d swept her off to the movies for nine straight hours the day Josh’s indiscretion was revealed, refusing to let her watch the news unfold. Now he’d stolen into her home in the dead of night, making her wet, needy, and so aroused she wanted to push him down on the bed, mount him, and ride him all night.
The bedsprings creaked as he dropped to the mattress, the fabric of his Santa suit crinkling across his lap. He slid his hands down her body, hovering along the curve of her hips. The heat of his palms soaked into her skin, traveling along her nerves in streaks of hot electricity.
He gripped her hard as he pulled her into his lap. His fingers were almost bruising, yet arousing at the same time. The masculine scent of him, of pine and leather and spicy man, overwhelmed her. His thighs were thick and hard beneath her bottom. She shifted slightly on his lap, the hard bulge between his legs burning wherever it grazed her body. He was just as aroused as she was.
He swept the hair back from her temple, stroking her shoulders as he brushed away her auburn curls to whisper into her ear. “Have you been a good girl this year?” He petted her thighs, the muscles quivering beneath his touch. Wetness dripped between her legs as he held her, arms imprisoned, unable to return the caress.
She turned her head to look at him, drinking in every glimpse the moonlight afforded her. “I’ve been good.” That’s what everyone told Santa. No one admits to Santa they deserve a lump of coal. But if the lump pressing into her upper thigh would end up in her stocking, maybe she’d change her answer.
A large smile spread across his sensuous lips. His eyes dark, clouded with lust that sizzled along her body, like chestnuts roasting on an open fire. “I don’t think so. I have you recorded on my naughty list.”
Her head swam at the deep, husky tone of his words.
“I haven’t been bad.” She’d been depressingly, boringly good. Far better than she’d wanted to be.
“Really?” His eyebrow quirked, his blue eyes alight with mischief.
A lock of licorice-black hair dropped across his forehead. She clenched her fingers together. The urge to comb the smooth, silky strands back into place tingled along the pads. She whispered a protest, restrained in the soft velvet ribbon, unable to touch him.
“You had some very naughty requests on your Christmas list.”
Callie froze, her arms turning to icicles at her sides. Her list. He’d found her list.
Her face flamed. She’d noticed the list was missing that afternoon, when she’d gotten the idea to reread the wild fantasies by the roaring fireplace, imaging herself laid out before it, Eric performing her every fantasy upon her. She hadn’t worried at its absence. She was prone to forget things, and assumed she’d find it later.
But she hadn’t misplaced it. Santa had stolen her list.
She should be angry at Eric, for reading her private dreams, for taking and using her fantasies against her, but every emotion paled compared to her embarrassment.
She’d written dozens of wickedly sexual fantasies on that list, things she wanted to do with him, to him, to have him do to her. Was he really here to give her what she wanted? Was raw, hot sex her Christmas present this year?
“Those were definitely the requests of a naughty girl. Do you know what happens to naughty girls?”
“They get a stocking full of coal,” she rasped, her tongue thick and cold as the snow outside her window.
“No.” His lips caressed her cheek as he whispered into her ear, his hot breath ruffling the hair at her temple. “They get spanked.”
Callie’s breath shuddered. Her heart pounded. Her head swam. He couldn’t be serious. He wouldn’t spank her. She wanted to push him away, to throw him out of her home. He was her friend. He wouldn’t force her to do anything she didn’t want to. But that was the problem. She wanted to. She’d written it on her naughty list. She dreamed of it many nights, tossing and turning in her hot, sweaty sheets.
He gripped her hips, his fingers crushing, firm enough to leave bruises the next day. Heat flared through Callie, curling in her stomach, tight and knotted as next year’s Christmas lights. Wetness slid between her legs.
Eric’s firm fingers pushed her up from his lap, shifting his knees apart, forcing her to stand or fall to the floor. He maneuvered Callie around his knees until she stood to the right of his legs. Her stomach brushed along the outside of his thigh, the muscles convulsing beneath the soft graze.
He pressed his thumbs into her lower back, on either side of her spine, propelling her forward until she was leaning over his legs. Her body responded to Eric’s subtle commands, the push of his fingers, the demand of his strong broad shoulders, giving in to his direction completely.
Her every muscle jumped as she submissively lay across his legs, preparing for the most erotic seat on Santa’s lap. A moan lodged in her throat as his plush-covered erection jabbed into her stomach, lighting a fire deep inside. So close to what she’d been dreaming of for months, yet still too far away.
With a calm, smooth stroke over her back, he coaxed her muscles to soften. A reassuring hesitation filled his movements, concern pervading the push of his thumbs, the mask of the commanding Santa slipping. If she wanted to end this she’d have to act now, scream at him, press back against him, kick or shove him away.
Her throat clogged. Her tongue was paralyzed, her muscles unresponsive. She didn’t want it to end. This may be her only chance to be with Eric, to be so uninhibited. She was determined to take advantage of it.
He hoisted her farther across his legs with a strong shove, her feet lifting off the floor. She gripped her thighs as her last support was ripped away, her body quaking with the vulnerability of her new position.
Her ass protruded into the air, his widespread knees supporting her torso. The soft Santa pants rubbed against her sensitive inner thighs and the tops of her breasts as she balanced over his lap. She’d never thought she’d be in this position, bent over a man’s leg awaiting his punishment, or this needy, desperate for his sentence. Blood rushed to her head, making her woozy. The tips of her hair swept the floor, curtaining her head, covering her warm face.
He massaged the muscles of her ass through her thin cotton panties in rough yet tender circles. “Have you ever been spanked before?”
She shook her head against his knee, burying her face beneath his thigh, hiding her embarrassment and innocence. Five years of being with Josh had taught her little about sex, and even less about the raw passion Eric created within her. If it wasn’t for this Santa coming down her chimney, Callie wouldn’t have believed such emotion existed.
“Good.” His warm breath curled around her ear.
His hand landed on the curve of her ass, fast, strong, rough, forcing her farther over his lap. Her breath gusted, her stomach flopping as his velour-covered erection dug deeper. Her skin flamed, the heat twisting and twirling, settling deep within.
He slapped first one cheek, then the other, the fiery pain of each stroke melding, intensifying, wetness oozing faster and thicker between her legs. Unconsciously she arched her spine, pushing her ass high, displaying it for his rough hand. Eric growled as she pressed into him, the small praise making her dizzy.
“Is this what you wanted?”
Callie bit back a moan. This wasn’t how she’d envisioned being with Eric, his hard hand spanking her, his rough voice dominating her. It was much more.
He smacked her again, the sensation intensifying in her short reprieve. Her legs shook, the muscles no longer under her control. “Is this what your naughty mind dreamed of?”
She whimpered beneath his raining slaps, each one forcing her breath from her lungs, heating her body and sizzling between her legs. She kicked and fought, not out of any intention for him to stop but from the need to move across him, to feel the friction of his body against hers. As if understanding her reasoning, Eric made no hesitating movements or overtures of stopping. He continued his rhythm, beating her warming behind until it burst with sweet pain.
He paused, groaning as he stroked his fingers along the moist cotton between her legs. “Did you touch yourself here when you thought of this?”
“Yes,” she wept, unsure what else to do.
He slapped her again, the wicked image and burst of pain whirling together. She moaned, rocking back against his thigh, begging for relief. The crack of his hand was nothing compared to the torturing pain of her throbbing pussy. The ache he made no attempt to soothe.
“Yes who?” he whispered, his finger trailing down the seam of her ass. He lengthened the brush along her anus and sex until she shivered, her stomach fluttering like a flock of turtledoves.
“Yes Santa,” she replied obediently, her brain as useful as a bowl full of jelly.
“Good girl.” He rewarded her by yanking back the elastic leg of her panties. Cool air caressed her moist, engorged flesh. Her breath froze in her lungs at the heat of his fingers skimming her swollen folds. She strained closer, needing more. Sweat beaded the back of her neck. Her legs fell open, inviting him to explore further.
But he pulled his hand back. The touch was enough to stoke the fire deep within her before he returned his attention to her ass, leaving her bare, open, and vulnerable to the chilly room. It was deliciously naughty to be so exposed. The wind created by his hand as he spanked her stimulated every nerve of her pussy and along her sensitive, burning behind.
A ragged wail escaped her throat.
“You really are a naughty girl, to be enjoying this so much.” His words were deep and husky. His enjoyment soaked through each slap. “Have you always had such naughty wishes?” Eric whispered, smoothing his hand down her warm, sensitive skin.
Callie swallowed, her emotions more raw and tender than her ass. Her breath stuttered at the vulnerability clogging her chest. Revealing the truth was more distressing than her being spread across Eric’s lap, his stiff erection biting into her stomach and her ass bare and swollen.
“Yes,” she cried. Eric rewarded her with a deep, kneading massage along the muscles of her upper thighs and sensitive behind, her entire body trembling beneath his fingers. “But they’ve become stronger in the last six months since…” She suppressed a moan as Eric tickled the responsive outer folds of her sex, encouraging her to elaborate. “Since everyone started treating me so fragilely.”
His hand stilled upon her skin, hesitation wrapping his touch.
“I’m not fragile,” she whispered, surprised by her need to soothe him. He was the one bruising her hips with his rough fingers, chapping her skin with his punishing palm. He should be comforting her, not the other way around, but she enjoyed that he needed her encouragement, her reassurance. “I can handle more than everyone thinks.”
“Maybe your friends think you shouldn’t have to endure so much. Maybe they just want to protect you.”
“I don’t need protecting,” she reassured, mumbling the words into his knee. “I need…” She bit back a groan as he swept his hands along her inner thighs, pulling them farther apart. “I need this.” She slammed her teeth into her bottom lip to prevent the “I need you” from flowing out of her mouth. “I need to be treated normally.”
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.