7. Ivy
CHAPTER 7
Ivy
S antaBabyBoy leads me through the impressive home to a doorway with a keypad.
Pax seems to be taking that whole Silent Night thing to new extremes.
Unlike at the coffee shop, he doesn’t say a word.
Maybe to keep from tipping me off with his voice. I have to remind myself he doesn’t realize I’ve figured out why they seemed so familiar and how I craved them so desperately from the moment they appeared on my laptop.
You know, because I’ve actually been half in love with them—and jealous of their fast friendship—for most of the year.
His touch is every bit as recognizable to me as how he sounds, even if we’ve only brushed fingers while exchanging possession of his cups before.
His hand surrounds mine in warmth. He gives it a reassuring squeeze just before he punches in the code then pauses with his hand on the doorknob.
“No cold feet allowed,” I tease, though I’m not sure if I’m trying to convince him or myself.
He nods then pushes it wide so we’re standing together at the entrance to a red room.
I recognize it from the other night.
Surreal to be on the other side of the screen, with them, just like I fantasized while I watched them live and pretty much every hour since they awoke my desire.
Inside is one of those huge almost-thrones they put Santa on at the mall. Plus a variety of very adult “toys” hanging from a pegboard on one wall of what’s supposed to be his workshop.
Opposite that, a ginormous sleigh bed on a platform hogs plenty of space.
White lights twinkle from beneath layers of cotton fluff that look like a foot of skiable powder on the ground. Crystal snowflakes hang on monofilament from the ceiling. Fake Christmas trees stand sentinel in each corner.
But, really, the only thing I can focus on are the three irresistible men in Santa masks.
Their bare chests and abdomens tempt my fingers to trace every ridge.
If they’ve been hiding those tattooed muscles under their suits all this time, those clothes should be illegal. Dang.
Suddenly, my mask—or being so near their hard bodies—makes it hard to breathe.
I start to sweat despite the tiny scraps my clothing is comprised of and the fact that the wind has gotten downright frightful outside.
“Come in, my pretty elf.” Gabriel’s hands are folded over his ripped abs, his thighs splayed, as he plays the part of @SantaCEO from the oversized chair. “I heard you’re here to tell Santa what you want for Christmas?”
They shouldn’t have worried.
Their masks distort their voices enough that had Snowflake not given them away, I might not have recognized them.
“There’s only one thing I came here for.” Am I supposed to act? Because that’s the truth. “Well, okay, three.”
Cole chuckles. Not so intimidating for someone who calls themselves @BigNickEnergy.
Probably for the best or I’d be trying to escape, though there are no windows, and the electronic beep of the door when it shut guarantees it’s locked.
“Well, you know the rules.” He flicks a finger from Pax to me. “You have to be naked to sit on Santa’s lap.”
“That’s news to me.” I grin inside my mask, wondering how exactly the rent-a-cop at the ice-skating rink outside the coffee shop would feel about that.
Good thing he’s not here.
Though thousands of other people are. Sort of.
Everyone is watching.
That thought freezes me for a moment, until I think of a sea of strangers somewhere out there in the dark, touching themselves and wishing they were as lucky as I’m about to be.
I see why my Santas like this.
It’s a rush.
For the first time, I feel powerful. Coveted. And more than a little naughty.
The jazz rendition of a classic Christmas song is an odd thing to choreograph a striptease to, but somehow I make it work. Pax doesn’t leave me out there to suffer by myself.
He joins me, dancing, swaying, both of us the other two Santas’ babies tonight.
With deft flicks of his fingers, he unhooks my skirt and slingshots it at Cole.
He knocks it aside as he rubs the bulge in his fuzzy red pants.
Gabriel is doing the same.
Cole pinches his nipple, hard enough to make me wonder if that could really feel good, then rakes his fingers over his abdomen. I file away his need for intensity as Pax spins me around and shows off my ass to the men and the camera.
The ping of tips coming through becomes more frequent as I get into it, bending over in a very unladylike fashion to unbuckle the red heels that match the tiny sliver of fabric between my cheeks. When I flash it to the crowd, the audible alerts increase.
“Made for this,” Pax mutters, but I hear him anyway.
He gives me the courage to really go for it.
I reach for the clasp on the back of my top, but he’s there, unfastening it for me.
Then he reveals me to his Santa daddies.
“Fuck.” Cole stuffs his hands down his pants while Gabriel’s head rocks back, thunking against the crimson leather padding surrounded by gold-painted wood.
The barrage of tips is like popcorn when it reaches a fevered pitch. It helps guide me, teaching me what to do more of to achieve my ultimate goal—melting my Santas’ hearts and blowing their minds.
For someone who’s never done this before, the feedback from the crowd is reassuring.
Invaluable.
Don’t get addicted to this, Ivy. It’s only one night. One wild fling.
I don’t mean to torture them, but I undress slowly to find out what’s most effective as I reveal myself to them—and our fans—one inch at a time. I had no idea this was going to be so much fun.
“Enough.” Gabriel cracks before I’m finished. “Get the rest of that off her. Now.”
Pax doesn’t question his boss’s orders.
He kneels at my feet, nuzzling my hip through his mask as he rolls the stockings down my legs.
I wish I could bury my fingers in his thick chestnut hair, but I settle for gripping his shoulder to keep myself steady. When I wobble the slightest bit, Cole is there, wrapping his arms around me from behind, cupping my breasts while he’s at it.
He’s no Saint Nick, and that’s fine by me.
I’m burning for their touch—and more.
The instant I’m naked before them, Cole plucks me off my feet and carries me to Gabriel. He settles me facing outward so that I’m kneeling more than sitting, my thighs on either side of Gabriel’s on the wide, padded chair.
Gabriel’s hands go straight to my ass like they’re magnetized to it.
They grab it and knead, spread my cheeks.
He curses, his agony rewarded by the audience. I can see their comments scrolling by at the speed of light on the projected image that takes up one whole wall.
My center feels so heavy and achy. I need to be touched. “Please, Santa. Give me more. I’ve been a good girl, I promise.”
I don’t even know what I’m asking for.
Fortunately, the chat does. And so do my men.
Gabriel does something behind me then rocks his hips upward. The long, thick length of him rides the furrow of my slit. The head of his cock rubs me in all the right spots.
My head falls back onto his shoulder, and I arch.
The cha-ching of tips becomes a steady ringing as Cole snatches something off the workshop wall. With the mask and the angle obscuring my vision, I don’t have any clue about what’s coming.
Cool metal drags over my breasts an instant before he clamps my nipples then uses the chain between them to tug me as if I were a reindeer instead of their dirty little elf.
I’m soaking Gabriel’s dick, leaving a trail on his pants below it, and I couldn’t care less.
All I want is… “More.”
Gabriel spanks me, thrusting me forward so that the contact between his hard-on and my clit increases. I moan and lose it before I even realize I’m on the edge.
Cole shifts his grip to my shoulders as I jerk in Gabriel’s lap. His big hands grasp my hips, stilling my motions, making me pout and whine.
“Careful, baby girl.” He huffs out a laugh. “You don’t want Santa to make a mess of you before we’ve even really begun.”
That’s only the start? My heart is pounding, and my rapture pumps through my veins.
“Turn her around,” he says, and Pax does.
Gabriel bands his arms around me, keeping me steady until my muscles remember how to work for anything other than contracting my empty pussy.
As I recover, Pax and Cole take up posts on either side of us.
Gabriel holds my hands for a few moments. “Breathe, baby girl.”
When I do, he extends my arms until my fingers bump into a hard dick on either side of me.
I clasp them, instinctively fisting Pax’s and Cole’s cocks, pumping them like I saw them do to themselves and each other on the previous live show I watched.
It doesn’t take long for me to forget anything but them.
The feel of their steely lengths in my fists and Gabriel’s chants of encouragement as he palms my ass and puts it on display for our watchers.
It takes a little while, but the embers of my arousal are rekindled by Cole’s and Pax’s wandering hands, which pet me as I pump them to full erection.
“Hand me that.” Gabriel points to something, but again my mask impedes my peripheral vision.
The hum of a vibrator is unmistakable though.
“It’s a shame I can’t have SantaBabyBoy eat this pretty pussy with his mask on.” Gabriel’s dirty talk is rough and low. “I’ve been told this is the next best thing.”
Gabriel swings me around so I’m laid out across his lap with my ass in the air. He wedges the toy between his thigh and my clit as he rubs big circles on my bum. And when his palm descends, spreading a warm tingle across it with slow, steady spanks that thrill me more than they hurt, it increases the sucking of the device on my most sensitive nerves.
“Is that what my pretty little elf needs?” Gabriel’s praise is even more impactful than all the toys in his workshop.
And even that isn’t enough.
“No,” I shout, and everyone pauses. Even the tips slow from a waterfall of cash to a steady stream. “More! Your dick. Please, Santa. Fuck your good elf.”
The deep bass of his jolly belly laugh radiates through me, but it’s the jerk of his erection against my hip that thrills me. “I thought you’d never ask.”
“I’ve got her.” Cole lifts me again and carries me to the bed.
Pax crawls onto it and holds out his arms.
Cole places me in them. I float, aroused, secure, and certain they’re going to take care of me.
Besides, there’s no turning back now.
Gabriel has shucked the rest of his clothes. He climbs onto the bed and holds himself over me with one straight-locked arm. The other jerks his cock in slow, steady pulls.
“Is this what you want for Christmas, baby girl? Santa’s fat cock?”
“Yes, please.” I reach for him and he comes.
No more teasing, no more denial.
He gives us what we both crave.
Gabriel fits his cock to me, but despite grinding against me repeatedly, he doesn’t enter.
Unlike the night I watched him sink into Pax, he isn’t able to move forward. And each escalating press of his hips sends frizzles of discomfort through the pleasure they’ve worked so hard to build.
The chat has gone into a frenzy, people screaming in all caps for him to do it.
Beneath my mask, I scrunch my eyes closed and pray for him to get it over with quick.
“Has it been so long, you forgot how to fuck a woman?” Cole gives him shit.
The frustrated noise Gabriel makes resonates in my soul. I need him inside me. To do the thing and make it official.
This time he takes his cock in hand and braces it as he aims the wide, blunt head at my core. He relies on one short, powerful jab of his hips to embed just the tip of his long erection inside my body.
That’s plenty for me.
I rear back as white-hot lightning streaks up my spine. A muffled shriek escapes my mask though the few tears I shed are thankfully obscured by the thick rubber.
Isn’t this supposed to feel good?
I squirm, trying to break free, but Gabriel pins me beneath him while Pax wraps his arms around me from behind and cradles me to his chest. He splays one hand on Gabriel’s abdomen, preventing him from drilling deeper. “Wait. I think…”
Gabriel’s head snaps up, and from this close, his eyes shine even through the small holes covered with mesh that obscure his eyes from a distance. “Baby girl, are you a virgin?”
Between my ragged gasps, I whisper, “Not anymore.”