5. Noelle
noelle
. . .
G lancing at my wrists, I realize the black leather wrapped around them is from the reins we use for the fake reindeer. Santa has secured my wrists on either side of the bench seat on the sleigh, and my feet are propped on the ledge before me, spread obscenely apart.
He disappeared a few minutes ago, and I haven’t seen him since. The time away from him has given me a chance to breathe—to think.
Since the day we started working together, I’ve had a crush on this man—like a stupid, schoolgirl crush where everything he says is funny and everything he does is mesmerizing.
And, honestly, if he wants to fuck me, even if it’s out in the open like this, is it really that bad? At least I can get him out of my system and move on.
Or let my obsession with him grow stronger.
I shake those thoughts from my head. I can’t let myself fall for another man like that. The last one ended…poorly.
The fake snow crunches, and I shift my head to look over my shoulder. He walks toward me, the bag from earlier dangling in his hand. His gaze meets mine, and I suck in a sharp breath.
“What’s in there?” I ask, gesturing toward it with my chin. A smile curves his lips as he drops it on the ground by the sleigh. The bindings dig into my ankles and wrists as I move around, fake struggling to get free.
“You’ll see.” His words are said softly, but there’s an ominous note to them I don’t miss. And I’d be lying if I said it didn’t turn me on more.
He crouches, his gaze falling to the bag before he unzips it. I try to peer over the edge, but I can’t see the contents. All I can see, all I can hear, is him rummaging around.
And when he stands, my mouth goes dry. “What are those for?”
The red and white striped jumbo candy canes glint in their plastic wrappings. He ignores me as he dips under my leg, then he’s standing between them, his body only inches from mine. I can see the outline of this thick cock in his pants, hard and pressing against the red fabric.
For the first time tonight, fear overtakes me. Not because I’m scared of the situation, but because I’m terrified of getting fucked by that thing. He’s massive—like scary huge.
It’s enough to make me forget about the candy canes, until he drops to a knee between my legs, bringing his face level with my spread pussy. His eyes travel up the expanse of my body before they meet mine, and a small grin plays at the corner of his mouth.
“You’re soaking wet, little elf,” he mutters. I shift, embarrassment flooding me. “It’s okay. I like knowing how badly you want this.” His eyes narrow slightly, his face morphing into seriousness. “You do want this, yeah?”
I nod a few times, my breathing shaky as I say, “Yes. Yeah, I want this.”
“Good.” He lifts a fistful of the candy canes, like he’s taunting me with them. I open my mouth to say something, to ask what he’s doing with them, but he cuts me off before I can speak. “I need to stretch you before I fuck you. I don’t want to hurt you.”
There’s something sinful in his voice, in the excited glint in his eye, and a flush settles over my chest. I feel it creep up my neck and bloom over my face. He’s so fucking close. I can feel his breath ghost over my thighs, and I squeeze my eyes shut.
Having him this close is equal parts humiliating and exhilarating—I’m turned on beyond belief, but also…what does he think? Does he like what he sees?
A crinkling sound has my eyes flying open, and I peer down at him. Slowly, he unwraps a candy cane, letting the plastic float to the floor. “What are you?—”
My words are cut off when he aims it at my entrance. “I told you,” he says. I jerk on the bindings at my wrist, straining to watch as he presses the thick candy cane inside me. I gasp as the mintiness spreads inside my pussy. It’s cool and icy, like drinking cold water after brushing your teeth. “I’m stretching you.”
A moan slips free as he slowly slides it from me before putting it back inside. My head falls against the back of the bench seat with a sigh. The lights overhead blind me, but it’s all secondary to the feeling of him pressing another unwrapped candy cane inside me.
“How many do you think you can take?” he asks, his voice a low hum.
“I don’t—” My breath catches as another slips inside. That’s three—how many more will he use? I wince as the overwhelming feeling of peppermint soaks in, causing my body to tremble and nipples to painfully harden. “I don’t know.”
Suddenly, heat wraps around my swollen clit, and I cry out, my eyes rolling back at the sensation. Santa groans, the sound vibrating against me. I force my head up to watch him, finding him unwrapping another candy cane while his tongue lashes at my clit.
“Please—” I don’t know what I’m begging for, or what I’m asking for. I just need something. Anything. “Please.”
He says nothing. His mouth stays where it is, and his tongue works harder as he slides the fourth candy cane inside me. My thighs tremble, and my pussy starts going numb from all the sensations. I can barely breathe—everything is too intense.
“Santa,” I gasp, the leather reins straining as I pull on them, desperate to touch him. “Santa.”
He pulls away long enough to grumble, “Calm down, little elf. I’ve got you.” Then his mouth returns to my clit, his tongue violently lashing at me. “So fucking good.” His growl is low in his throat—animalistic.
More plastic crinkles, and I whimper as he presses another inside me. I feel full, but not overly so. Comfortable—despite the mint.
My lower stomach tightens as he slides the bunch of canes from me before slowly pressing them back in. In steady motions, he fucks me with them, his tongue unrelenting against my clit. He works me higher, forcing my pleasure from me.
Faster, harder.
I tug on the leather, desperately crying out when I can’t move. My muscles shake with the effort to pull my legs shut, to trap his head between my thighs, but they stay spread. He stops long enough to slide another cane in, and I groan.
“Halfway there, little elf,” he murmurs. “You’re being such a good fucking whore for me.”
There it is.
I whimper at his words, aching for more of them. I need the harsh words, the bite of pain from a whip or his open palm. I need more.
“Hit me,” I gasp. “Hurt me.”
He pauses, his eyes slowly trailing up to meet mine. “Hurt you?” he repeats, and I nod.
“I want you to leave your mark on me,” I mutter. His smile is evil as he pulls away, sitting back on his knees.
“Remember you asked for it,” he says, his voice gentle. I swallow thickly at the dark promise in the words, but excitement overrides any other feelings.
“I want it,” I tell him. Slowly, he stands, the hard-on in his pants thicker and harder than before.
God, how will he fit inside me?
I have no time to dwell on it before he pulls the stack of candy canes from me, then moves to the reins on my ankles. He undoes them, letting my legs fall to the sleigh floor. I groan at the ache in my hips as he moves to my wrists.
I let myself enjoy the freedom, even if my joints hurt like hell. Reaching up, I rub the ache from my shoulders, then do the same to my hips.
He moves around at my side, but I pay him no attention. I should've, though. Because before I even realize what’s happening, something rough is wrapped around my neck and pulled tight. I claw at it, my eyes wide as I peer up at Santa. He’s back lit, his face shadowed.
He doesn't look like an angel anymore—he looks like the Devil.