Page 36 of Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
“Princess.”
All the blood rushes from my brain to my dick, making speech impossible in the wake of the image before me. Her blond hair is curled and pulled back into a ponytail, and her red lips match the color of the sexy Santa suit that hugs her body in red silk and soft fur.
“Care to have Santa sit onyourlap?” she asks, lifting onto her knees provocatively and bending first one leg and the other to rise from the ground.
I collapse into the chair she motions to.
“What do you have planned, Mrs. Claus?”
“It depends,” she says with a sly grin. “Have you been a good boy or a naughty one?”
I cup her hips and yank her to me.
“Naughty. Definitely. How many times have we claimed your coal?”
She slaps my hands with hers and pushes them both to the arms of the chair.
“Naughty boys don’t get to touch.”
“We’ll see about that,” I grumble.
Her teeth sink into her lower lip, but I can see the way she struggles to contain her smile. She presses a button on her phone, and the intro to “Santa Baby” kicks through a speaker somewhere in her living room. She leans over, her tongue rimming my ear before she nibbles the lobe.
“Sit still and wait here. If you’re good, Santa may bring you a present.”
My fingers curl into the fabric of the chair, and my dick is already digging into the zipper of my jeans, but I nod, curious about what type of present she has in mind.
She steps back, taking the smell of vanilla and sugar with her, but only far enough to dance. A dance meant only for me. She grinds and gyrates, finally unveiling her perfect fucking body hidden under the little negligee. On the front of her panties is a little bow with a tag.
“Is that for me?” I barely recognize the sound of my voice beneath the grit.
“Yes,” she says, and I start to rise, only to be pushed back down again with a hand to the chest. “Not yet.”
Her hands trail along my arms as she steps between my parted thighs, running along my shirt until she reaches the fly of my jeans and flicks the button open. The immediate pressure relief is palpable but still not quite what I need.
“Lilah.”
She sinks down to her knees and palms my length through the denim before her fingers slide the zipper down carefully, letting my dick spring free.
“Hmm. Is this for Santa?” she asks, wrapping her fingers around my length and tugging slightly.
“Fuck.”
“Such a bad word from a boy who promised to be good.”
“Keep playing, princess. I’ll show you exactly how bad I can be when I impale you with my cock.”
She squeezes harder, just as turned on by this as I am.
“You want that, baby? You want to ride my cock for Christmas?”
Her breath breaks, and she shakes her head to clear the spell my words cast over her.
“Not yet. First, I want to…” Her voice trails off as she lowers to the floor in front of me.
It isn’t until her lips wrap around the end of my cock that her words hit me. Over the last few days, we’ve experienced fast sex and slow sex. This is one of those times where she wants to go fast—after her teasing. She lowers onto my cock until I bump the back of her throat, and she swallows around me while tracing the vein on the underside of my shaft with her tongue.
