Mr Christmas Page 4

  Before I can ask what “this” is, he drops to his knees, presses me back so that I’m laying down, lifts my legs straight up into the air, and then slides his tongue up my wet pussy, all the way from my ass to my clit.

  A sound I’ve never ever made before escapes my mouth as stars explode behind my eyes. He continues sliding his tongue up and down my slit with long slow strokes. I babble incoherently, my brain short-circuiting from the pleasure, and then he wraps his lips around my clit and sucks it into his mouth. I cry out, an orgasm appearing out of nowhere and slamming into me so hard it takes my breath away.

  He rises, his hungry eyes devouring me as they roam from head to toe and back again. His lips and beard glisten with my juices and I swear I have a mini-orgasm when his tongue slides across his lips and he moans.

  “You are so fucking beautiful, angel,” he says, his brown eyes so dark they’re almost black. He starts sliding the head of his cock up and down my slit and all I can do is moan.

  “You’re so fucking wet,” he growls. “This sweet pussy is dripping for me.” He pushes forward a bit, just sliding the head in.

  I gasp, pure pleasure flooding my body. I start to roll my hips, desperate to feel more of him in me, but his big hands grab my waist, holding me firmly in place.

  “Patience, my sexy angel,” he says softly, holding back a barely restrained chuckle.

  He pushes in slow. So. Fucking. Slow. I’m panting after just a few minutes of the exquisite torture, my juices running down my ass.

  “Please fuck me,” I beg.

  “Mmm. I like the sound of that, angel. Say it again.”

  Oh god. It just slipped out. I didn’t mean to say it out loud. The command to say it again is embarrassing. It’s also incredibly hot. “Please,” I gasp out, slowly losing my mind to lust as his cock continues slowly stretching me. “Fuck me. Fuck me now. I need it. I need you.”

  “Say fuck me, Sexy Santa.”

  Fuck! Just the idea of saying those words triggers a mini-orgasm and my pussy clenches tight around his thick shaft. “Fuck me, Sexy Santa,” I moan, my hands curling into fists, my fingernails digging into my palms. I can feel my toes curling as an orgasm builds within me.

  He growls and then pushes his entire length into me with one slow steady push. As soon as his balls press against my ass, my orgasm is unleashed. I cry out as his hands grip my hips tightly, his cock slamming into me fast and hard. My mind is mush, my mouth saying any old thing. I vaguely recall saying something about wanting to be on his naughty list forever and how good his candy cane felt stuffed inside me.

  His fast steady rhythm becomes a fast unsteady rhythm and then he slams into me a final time, roaring like a lion as he buries himself deep inside me as he comes.

  After a minute or two, he slides free, disposes of the condom, and joins me as I slide under the blankets on the bed. I lean into him as he wraps an arm around me, pulling me close.

  “And that, dear Joe,” I say, my breathing still a bit ragged, “concludes our lesson on the spirit of Christmas.”

  He laughs softly. “I think I like the way you teach about Christmas.”

  “Good,” I murmur softly. I want to say more, but my eyelids are heavy and it’s hard to ignore the siren call of sleep. My body feels used in the most pleasurable of ways, and the comfy blanket, combined with his warm body, lulls me to sleep before I even realize it. The last thing I’m aware of is Joe gently kissing the top of my head.

  “Goodnight, my sexy Christmas angel.”

  Chapter 6

  Joe

  I wake up with a smile on my face, thrilled to see Krissy still in my bed, still in my arms. Starting the day with her angelic face turned toward me, her long hair spilling over her shoulders and across my chest, is a new experience for me. One-night stands are for sex only, not for cuddling or anything intimate or romantic like that. But a voice deep inside me insistently tells me Krissy is not a one-night stand or even a fling. No, Krissy is much more, and that tiny voice doesn’t mind telling me I’m stupid if I don’t realize that.

  It’s somewhat unsettling, because while there’s no denying the attraction I feel for her, this can only be temporary. I don’t live in this little Christmas town. I’ll be leaving just as soon as the takeover is complete. I frown. Takeover. Such a harsh word, and maybe one that doesn’t need to apply to the Christmas Shack. Krissy’s father was stubborn, refusing to change with the times. From what I learned, he waited years before allowing the store to have an online presence, and even now their website looks like something from the early days of the internet, more an online billboard than something visitors can interact with. But should the store disappear simply because Krissy’s father isn’t the best businessman in the world?

  Krissy stretches like a cat and opens her eyes. A small smile on her face. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning.” I kiss the top of her head, running my fingers through her hair.

  She slips from my embrace and slides out of bed, somehow managing to pull just one blanket from the pile on the bed. She wraps herself up in it as she starts collecting her clothes. She might think she’s being modest by covering up but I have every inch of her gorgeous body memorized. My cock stirs as I remember the previous night. I know she probably needs to get to work but all I want to do is drag her back into bed and ravish her body all over again.

  As if she can read my mind, Krissy looks at me as she heads toward the bathroom. She shakes her head, a sad smile on her face. “You are so handsome . . . and so damn good in bed. It’s impossible for me to resist you whenever we’re together. But you’re also the man stealing my father’s business away from him, and because of that I don’t think we should spend any more time together, no matter how much I want to be with you.” And then she disappears into the bathroom and closes the door behind her.

  I shake my head, not able to believe what just happened. While I was daydreaming about pleasing her curvy body again, she was . . . what? Dumping me? And all because of a lie. Fuck that. Sure, I made a promise, but things were different then.

  I get out of bed and pull my jeans on, then quickly build up the fire in the fireplace to take the chill out of the air. A few minutes later, Krissy steps out of the bathroom, fully dressed. She moves toward the window, refusing to meet my gaze.

  “Krissy.”

  She holds up her hand, shaking her head as she chews nervously on her bottom lip. That move usually has my cock throbbing but not now. Not when it’s paired with the hurt in her eyes.

  She reaches for the window.

  “I’m not the guy who killed Christmas,” I blurt out, worried if she makes it out that window I’ll never see her again.

  She stops for just a second but still doesn’t look at me. “You’re Christmas World, and that makes you the . . .” Her voice breaks with a sob. “The enemy.” She looks at me, and her eyes are filled with sadness and anger. “You’re the perfect guy. Handsome, sexy, smart. You make me tingle and make me go ‘whoa’. But you’re destroying my family’s life.” She raises the window.

  “Your father called me,” I say desperately. What I’m doing is wrong, and I might lose her, but I’m not going to lose her over a lie, no matter how well-intentioned it was.

  Krissy pauses and then puts her foot down, turning to look at me. “What does that mean?”

  I exhale heavily and run a hand through my hair. The cold winter air is coming through the window and I’m shirtless, but I have her attention now and I’m not going to risk losing it over something as unimportant as my comfort. I look at her, meeting her ice-colored eyes, and suddenly I’m at a loss for words.

  She arches an eyebrow, and I can see her leaning toward the window.

  “You’re not going to like it,” I say. “It will probably piss your dad off.”

  She stands there, just staring at me. The girl might look and sound like a fragile angel but she’s hardcore when she needs to be.

  “Your dad called me. He said he couldn’t kee
p the Christmas Shack going anymore, that it had been hurting for a few years.”

  Krissy shakes her head. “He wouldn’t lie to us like that.”

  “Did he lie, Krissy? Did he say we contacted him and offered him a huge sum of money to sell . . . or did he just say something vague like ‘I’m selling the store’? Keeping it simple without saying who started the process?”

  I can tell by the look in her eyes he chose the second option. She looks around. Blinks once. Then twice. She looks over at the window as if she’s waking from a nap and just now realizing it’s open. She closes it and moves over to the bed, sitting down heavily on it, looking down at her feet.

  “Why?” Her voice is barely above a whisper.

  I move to the bed and sit beside her, taking her hand in mine. “To keep the peace. I’ve seen it before. Someone decides to sell, for whatever reason, and the decision tears the family apart. He was worried about that happening, so I suggested he tell everyone we started the process, made an offer he couldn’t refuse.” I sigh and shake my head. “It all seemed so simple then.” I squeeze her hand and look into her eyes. “I don’t want to be the guy who killed Christmas. I want to be the guy who saved Christmas . . . or at least saved the Christmas Shack.”

  “How?”

  “By doing what all businesses do. Scrap what doesn’t work, keep what does . . . and a lot of stuff does work.” I look at her hesitantly. “Your dad being in charge of business decisions is one of the things that doesn’t work.”

  She frowns but nods in agreement.

  I release her hand and cup her cheek in my palm, feeling a surge of warmth in my chest when she leans her face into my touch.

  “We can make this work,” I say, and then I lean over and kiss her.

  Chapter 7

  Krissy

  We’re really doing it. Joe said we could make it work, and we are. Like he had predicted, Dad wasn’t happy with Joe telling the real version of the business deal, but he got over it when Joe said there was a way to keep the Christmas Shack open. The business would still belong to Christmas World — there was no way around that — but we could still keep our own identity. And, honestly, it’s probably best that Dad functions more as manager than business owner.

  Luckily, Dad doesn’t mind the new position, seeming happier than he has in a long time. He was never thrilled with the corporate side of things, always preferring to be on the floor with customers instead of feeling chained to a desk.

  Dad and I are putting up a new store display when he stops and looks at me. His gaze doesn’t waver for a minute, and then he glances at the window to the office, where Joe is sitting behind the old wooden desk. My cheeks heat up as I realize he caught me staring. Again. I can’t help it. My Sexy Santa is hard to resist, but resist is exactly what I’ve had to do.

  Even though the transition is going a lot smoother than expected, Joe doesn’t want to rock the boat by sleeping with the former business owner’s daughter. At least not yet. I hated the idea, but it does make sense. So we’ve been doing the ‘just friends’ thing. Well . . . just friends except for a stolen kiss here and there, and a quickie in the storage room while Dad was out. And then there was the time in Joe’s truck . . . okay! The important thing is we’re trying to make the ‘just friends’ thing work.

  Dad smiles at me. “You should invite him over for dinner.”

  “Who?”

  Dad chuckles. “Seriously, Krissy? I’m old, not dead. Anyone can see you have a thing for him.”

  “You and Mom wouldn’t mind?”

  Another chuckle. “I don’t mind, and your mom will probably start dropping subtle hints about looking forward to the day her baby girl gets married and how thrilling it will be to have grandkids around.”

  “Ugh!” I roll my eyes. “You are so not doing a good job of selling the whole ‘invite him over for dinner’ idea.”

  Dad shrugs. “Get married, don’t get married. Have kids, don’t have kids. We just want you to be happy.” He grins. “But your mom really hopes you’ll be happy getting married and having kids one of these days.”

  I laugh because he’s telling the truth. Mom hasn’t been pushy about it, but she has been known to drop a not-so-subtle hint every now and then about how the daughters of all her friends are having weddings and baby showers. I decide the best way to handle it is to just play it cool.

  “I’ll think about asking him over. But no promises.”

  ◆◆◆

  I’m standing outside when the red SUV shows up, trying to not bounce up and down on my heels like an overexcited schoolgirl. Joe climbs out of the truck and wraps me in his arms, giving me a quick peck on the lips I wish could be so much more. Having to settle for less, I hold him tight, enjoying the feel of him against me.

  “You ready for this?” I ask.

  Joe smiles that panty-melting smile of his and nods.

  I take his hand in mine and lead him up the sidewalk to the front door, which is opened by my mom when we get within five feet of it. She flashes him a big smile and gives him a hug, catching Joe off guard a little bit, but he recovers quickly and returns the embrace. Just a couple of weeks ago, Mom would’ve said a person was messed up in the head if they thought she’d be smiling and hugging Joe Christmas, but Dad had revealed the truth to her since then. Now she sees Joe as a hero instead of a villain.

  “Dinner will be ready in about fifteen minutes,” Mom says as we take off our jackets and hang them up. “Why don’t you show our guest around?” She winks at me. “I bet he’d love to see your room.”

  My cheeks heat up so much I figure they’re probably red as an apple, and Joe coughs into his hand to cover his laugh and hide a smile. Mom and subtlety. Not even close to being friends. Sort of following her advice, I show Joe around. He gets to see the living room, the library, a quick peek in the kitchen because Mom doesn’t allow anyone else in there when she’s cooking, and the backyard. Once the first floor is covered we head upstairs, which inevitably leads us to my bedroom.

  I can’t even imagine what he’s thinking as he looks around because it’s very girlie-girl, with lots of pink and ruffles and lace and stuffed animals. I can’t tell if the small smile on his face is a good thing or bad thing.

  “Go ahead and laugh,” I say, shuffling from one foot to the other. “I’m twenty-one and still living at home with my parents.” I shrug. “I mean, I get paid for working at the Shack but it’s not enough to even rent my own place.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with living with the parents, and the room is great,” Joe says. “It’s very ‘you’.”

  I frown at him. “What does that even mean?”

  He takes me in his arms and smiles down at me. “That means it’s perfect in my eyes, in every way possible.” He leans down and his lips meet mine. His tongue dances with mine and I moan, forgetting what I was worried about just a minute ago. When he pulls away, I’m breathless, my brain fuzzy and buried in a cloud of lust.

  Something outside the bedroom window catches Joe’s eye and he moves closer for a better look. He laughs when he sees the tree outside, one of the many branches jutting out near the window. He looks at me with a knowing smile. “So that’s how you got so good at climbing.”

  I grin and walk slowly toward him, putting a little extra sway in my hips, my body still humming from that kiss. “I’ll admit it. I snuck out every now and then.” I walk up close to him, until my breasts are mashed against his chest, and reach up to run my fingers through his beard. “After all, I’m a very naughty girl.” I slide my hands down to his waist and start unbuttoning his pants.

  Joe’s eyes flick toward the door. It’s closed, but it’s not locked.

  “Krissy —”

  I shush him as I slide down to my knees. I look up at him as I pull his hard cock out of his pants, slowly stroking it. “If you want me to stop, just tell me to stop.” I flash a grin at him, then take his cock in my mouth, swallowing as much as I can in one smooth motion.

  Jo
e gasps and reaches out to balance himself against the wall with one hand while his other hand lands on top of my head, his fingers burying themselves in my hair.

  I hum around his thick shaft, my hand sliding up and down the part I can’t take in my mouth. I’m stroking him fast, my grip firm, my tongue teasing his shaft, swirling around the sensitive head. All of it done with one goal in mind: make Joe lose control, right here in my bedroom, with my parents just downstairs, my parents who could come upstairs and open the unlocked door at any moment.

  Joe’s grip tightens in my hair, his breathing becomes ragged, and then his whole body tenses and he growls my name under his breath as he fills my mouth and belly with his cream. I lick him clean, tuck him back in his pants, and give it an affectionate pat. Then I stand up and lick my lips, never breaking eye contact with Joe. “That was delicious,” I purr. I turn and head for my bedroom door, then look over my shoulder at him. “Ready for dinner?”

  ◆◆◆

  It’s fun watching Joe try to act like nothing happened with Mom sitting on one side of him with Dad on the other. I’m probably not helping by sitting across from him, sliding my foot up his pants leg every chance I get. He’s always so calm and in control. It’s nice, and sort of cute, to see him off-balance like this.

  But it doesn’t take long for my man to regain his footing, joining in the casual conversation like he’s been eating over for years. I blink. My man? I sigh and smile. Yeah, there’s no reason to pretend any more. I’m crazy about the guy. Was crazy about him even when he was the man putting my father out of business. Now that he’s helping save the business? I’m hopelessly hooked, and I think he feels the same way.

  A phone rings and Joe grimaces. “Sorry about that. I thought I turned it off.” He pulls it from his pocket and looks at the screen. He stands, frowning at the screen. He glances up at us. “Sorry again, but I need to take this.” He heads for the door and steps outside, stopping only long enough to pull his coat on.