Chapter 10 Santa, Am I Bad?
Santa, Am I Bad?
GWEN
I’m having the best dream ever. Okay, well it’s the weirdest dream ever.
I know it’s a dream because Santa Claus doesn’t exist. Yet here I am, in his bed, my hands tied to his headboard with red velvet material.
His lips are moving down my body, over my breasts, and then he sucks my nipple into his mouth, and I whimper from the heat he’s creating.
It’s as if a line of fire scorches a path from his mouth straight to my center.
I can feel how wet I am. The insides of my thighs are painted with the evidence of my hunger.
My body feels heavy, filled with hunger and desire—yet sleepy.
My eyes are closed, and I’m trying to open them, but I’m afraid if I do all of this will stop.
“Open your eyes for me, Gwen.”
I hear the rough order, but that doesn’t sound like a make-believe Santa. That sounds like Wyatt.
My Wyatt.
It takes me a minute, but I manage to get them open, and I’m staring directly into Wyatt’s deep brown eyes—eyes filled with hunger and desire. Sadly, my mouth opens before my brain catches up to me.
“You’re not Santa.”
He laughs, desire and happiness raging in his gaze. “No, I’m not, but you’ve been a very bad girl and I’m going to put you on the naughty list.”
“How was I bad?” I ask him, my hips moving against him because he’s stopped using his hands and soft lips on my body and I want him to start again. “I’ve been sleeping. I couldn’t be bad,” I reason, beginning to feel frustrated because he’s no longer sucking on my nipple.
“You kept rubbing your ass against my cock all night and making me hard. Do you think that sounds like someone Santa should put on his nice list?”
“Um,” I breathe, my brain short-circuiting.
“That’s not really an answer, Gwen. I’m afraid I’m going to have to punish you now.”
I bite down on my lip. “How are you going to punish me?” I ask, my breathing so ragged that I can barely function.
“I’m going to eat your sweet pussy until you pass out from coming.”
“Is that even possible?” I ask, my voice betraying my doubt.
He grins down at me. “Just wait,” he exhales, his voice full of desire.
It’s then that I realize he has a hand on each of my wrists, holding them down.
His touch does feel kind of velvety, so I guess that’s part of my dream.
Wyatt also has a small beard, so I’ll give myself a pass on the whole Santa fantasy.
I’ll also never tell him. He lets go of my hands and moves down my body.
Later, I may wonder how he got me completely naked and worry I sleep too deeply, but right now I’m just thankful.
“Wyatt,” I murmur, my heart kicking into overdrive. I’m suddenly nervous, worried about whether I’m ready for this. I’m not exactly a virgin, but I don’t know Wyatt that well. I need more time. “I don’t think I’m ready to …”
“Shhh,” he says. “Don’t worry. I’m just going to make you feel good. You want that, don’t you?” he purrs, his voice addicting.
“Yes.”
“Good girl. Now, give me your hand.”
I frown but follow his order. My eyes widen as he brings my hand to my pussy.
His fingers move to mine as he applies pressure and shows me what he wants.
My fingers move over my swollen clit, cream coating them heavily.
He’s in control, my hand his puppet really, but nothing has ever turned me on more.
He pulls my hand away, and I whine, not wanting to stop.
I know I could come easily right now, and I need that release.
My gaze latches onto him as he brings my fingers up to his mouth and begins to suck them clean.
“Oh, fuck,” I whimper. I’m so wet, and as I watch him lick my juices from my fingers, a fresh wave moves through me, coating my lips and thighs. “Wyatt.”
“Such a dirty word coming out of your sweet mouth. You really do want to be on the naughty list, don’t you, Gwen?”
“I want to come,” I respond, giving him the truth.
“That will definitely happen, sweetheart,” he vows. I let that assurance move over me.
He stands up at the foot of the bed and undoes his pants.
He doesn’t have boxers or anything on. It makes me wonder if he always goes commando.
His hand wraps around his cock, and the beauty of it takes my breath away.
God, he’s huge. When we make love, he may split me in two.
I’ve only ever been with Dr. Dickhead, and he’s not even half the size of Wyatt.
It appears he shortchanged me in every way imaginable.
He strokes himself while watching me. I didn’t do it on purpose, but I realize my hand has moved back to my clit and I’m rubbing circles around my pussy.
I lick my lips, loving what we’re doing.
I’ve never done anything like this before, and in some ways, this feels more erotic than anything else I’ve ever done.
“Wyatt,” I whimper because I feel my clit throbbing and I’m hungry to come. Something instinctively tells me that I shouldn’t—at least until he tells me it’s allowed. “I’m close.”
“Look at you. So fucking beautiful. You don’t get to make yourself come yet, Gwen.”
“Please?” I ask, feeling completely desperate.
“Oh, what a good girl. Do you like begging for me, honey?”
“Yes,” I pant.
“Do you think you’ve earned the right to come?”
“I will if I haven’t,” I promise, and my words make a wicked grin appear on his face.
“Oh, Gwen, you have no idea what you just agreed to.
“I won’t fuck you tonight. When I fuck you for the first time, I want to do it when I’m sure little ears will remain asleep. Still, you have been good. I want you to rub your fingers all over your nipples for me. Coat them with your juices. I want to suck them and taste you.”
There’s no way I’d make him ask me twice. I do it immediately. Moaning as I pull harder than needed on my nipples and getting them so wet and swollen it’s almost bordering on painful.
“Fuck, that’s hot,” he half-growls. Then, his lips are on me as he straddles my body.
His cock presses against my chest as his tongue swirls around my nipple, and he sucks it into his mouth.
He groans as he devours me. I feel his teeth bite down, and the pain makes me cry out as a gush of wet slides from my pussy.
That’s something that has never happened before.
For a moment, I’m confused. I just had a mini-orgasm.
I didn’t even know that was possible. My fingers find purchase in his hair as I try to hold him into me, wanting more.
Sadly, he pulls away before I can see if I can come again like that.
“Put your fucking fingers on that pussy of yours. I want to watch you fuck yourself.”
“Yes,” I hiss, not having to be told twice.
I thrust my fingers in, my gaze never leaving his as I fuck myself with them.
It’s not enough. I can’t get the right angle.
My clit is crying for attention. My hips move back and forth trying to find the friction I need.
I feel like I’m losing my mind. Yet, the entire time, Wyatt’s hand is on his cock.
He’s stroking himself, his grip hard and strong as it moves up and down his shaft.
“Something wrong, beautiful?” he purrs.
“I need more,” I beg.
“Show me how you make yourself come, Gwen. You do that, and I’ll reward you by painting your fucking body with my cum. Would you like that, sweetheart? Do you want to be covered in my cum?”
I want to tell him yes, but my fingers are already moving vigorously over and over my pulsating clit. I’m so needy and swollen, I know I’m going to come any second. There’s no stopping it.
“Wyatt,” I cry—or at least I think I do.
I’m not even sure I managed to say the actual word.
I’m watching his cock while my climax rolls through me.
I’m completely mindless of anything and everything but the pleasure bombarding my body.
The head of his cock is wet and then white, pearl-colored spurts of his cum explode out and fall on my body.
Hot liquid ropes spray across my chest, land on my chin, hit my lips and face.
I would have thought he was finished, but as I lick his cum from my lips, another stream comes out and he aims it between my legs.
I watch him drain his cock, my hands rubbing the cum into my stomach and breasts.
Wyatt’s hands go to my pussy, cupping it while his fingers press his cum over my aching clit.
“Jesus, Gwen. You may kill me when we actually fuck,” he groans.
Then, he surprises me by kissing me, his tongue forcefully invading my mouth with a hunger that arouses me all over again.
I’m sure he can taste his cum on my lips and tongue, but it doesn’t seem to stop him at all.
I give myself over to him, knowing that there’s no going back now. I’m hopelessly in love with Wyatt.
Maybe I still believe in Santa after all, because suddenly, I’m praying for a miracle and silently asking Santa to give me Wyatt for Christmas …