Chapter 3
Chapter Three
I can say without a doubt, I’ve never sat on a man's lap before. Okay, I’ve never sat on a man's lap as an adult before. I’m fairly sure my mom brought me to a mall Santa when I was a little kid, but I don’t have any photographic proof.
Even if I did, he was not Cole Saint. In my hazy memory, he was a portly old man over the age of seventy who smelled of mothballs and cigarettes.
Cole smells like pine needles and burning firewood on a cold winter’s night.
His thighs are strong beneath my plush ass, and I do everything I can to ignore the fact that I’m seated just above his cock.
I have no doubt if I shifted just right, I’d be able to feel what he’s packing, but I put that naughty thought out of my mind as quickly as it came, wrapping my arms around his neck to keep myself in place, his soft belly pressing into my side.
He secures one of his arms around my back, resting his strong fingers in the slight dip of my waist, the other remaining on the arm of the chair. I’d wish he’d put it on my thigh, but that would be indecent.
“Is this okay?” He asks.
My skin tingles in every place we touch, and while it’s odd to be in his lap, it feels more than okay. It feels…right.
I tuck that thought away and answer, “Yes, it’s okay.”
“Good,” he hums. “I’m glad.”
We stare at each other, and the world loses focus.
I forget that I’m in the middle of a mall.
That it’s Christmas Eve, I was ghosted by a man whose name I can’t remember anymore, and I was going to go home to an empty apartment.
That this is my friend’s dad and he’s simply playing a role.
The only thing that matters is this moment.
“Santa Baby” crescendos in the background, and my chest heaves with short breaths.
His hand grips tighter on my waist, and his gaze darts down to my red painted lips.
I wore the lipstick, aptly named the Naughty List, to mark the holiday.
The bright red color is the same as his suit.
I like how it makes my lips stand out amongst my round freckled face.
Before I know what I’m doing, I’m leaning in.
He doesn’t stop me, but he also doesn’t close the distance.
His lack of reciprocation is a reminder of who he is, and I pull back so I can no longer feel the heat of his breath or smell the traces of peppermint.
The image of him sucking on a candy cane beforehand is more attractive, and more lewd, than it probably should be.
Cole shifts his knees under my ass so I’m lifted slightly higher in his hold. I’m not a small woman, almost six feet tall and well over two hundred pounds, but Cole handles me like a man who knows what he’s doing. The hand on my waist remains steady, strong, comforting.
Damn it to hell. He’s everything I wish I could find on dating apps and more.
But he didn’t lean in just now, and while I felt a connection to him last Christmas, he didn’t do anything then either.
Why would he? He’s twenty-five years older than me, and my best friend’s dad.
Just because I believe there to be a mutual connection between us, doesn’t mean we can do anything about it.
Cole stares at me for a beat longer. His mouth parts, pink tongue darting out to wet his lips framed by his silver beard that matches the hair hiding beneath his Santa hat.
“Vixen,” he draws in a breath, his belly expanding and retracting against my side. “Will you tell Santa what it is you want for Christmas?”
Right. That’s why I’m here. Not to kiss him. Not to flirt with him. We may be in the privacy of Santa’s cabin, the workers most likely gone or on their way home, but we are in a public mall.
I clear my throat, my cheeks prickling with heat when I think about what I’m going to ask him for.
“No need to be embarrassed, Vixen,” his hand flexes on my waist, “You can tell me.”
I swallow, looking down at where the hem of my dress has ridden up, exposing more of my thighs. Fingers appear in my line of vision, and a second later Cole’s warm touch is under my chin, and our eyes are meeting once more as he lifts my gaze.
“Tell Santa, and if you’ve been a good girl, I’ll do my best to fulfill your Christmas wish.”
Good girl. My stomach flutters, but I manage a nod. Cole’s fingers slip from my chin, and instead of returning his hand to the armrest, he settles it on my thigh like I’d wanted before.
The warmth of his touch, the steady hold at my waist, the solid press of his legs beneath me, and his masculine pine scent all blur together, heady and disorienting. It’s like a drug, loosening my tongue so I can finally speak.
“I don’t want to be alone anymore, Santa.”
His mouth pulls tight and brow furrows. “You’re not alone, Vixen.”
The bridge of my nose stings with unexpected emotion. I hadn’t meant to phrase my Christmas wish in that way, but it’s how it came out. I bite my bottom lip shaking my head.
“But I am.” He goes to speak but I stop him.
“I’ve got no family, and yes, I have Holly and my coworkers at the IT firm I work at, but most of the time it’s just me.
I’ve tried dating, tried finding someone who gets me, sees me, but I can’t even get men to go out.
They ghost, they play games, I’m tired. Really tired. ”
Cole is silent for a long moment, varying emotions flashing through his eyes that are still intently focused on me. “The men you’re trying to date aren’t men. They’re boys.”
I may not have a dad growing up, but I know “dad advice” when I hear it. Especially since I’ve heard him give it to Holly in the past—mostly over the phone.
My fingers on the back of his neck grip him tighter and I shift on his lap to get more comfortable. His jaw flexes, the veins in his throat bulging with tension. I don’t know if it’s because I’m too heavy, or he’s annoyed.
I sigh. “It doesn’t matter if they’re men or boys, I can’t get them to date me. I can’t even get them to fuck me when I want them to. Not even on a lonely Christmas Eve!”
I snap my lips together, eyes widening at what I just said. I didn’t mean to say that. Just like I shouldn't have confessed that I don’t want to be alone. I was supposed to come here and ask Santa for a man—a one night stand or otherwise. Not to trauma dump on him, then be vulgar.
Cole's hand on my thigh becomes heavy, the pads of his fingers digging harder into my skin. I bet if I wasn’t wearing stockings, I could see the indents of his fingers pushing into the soft flesh.
“Is that really what you came to ask me for?”
One of his dark gray eyebrows cocks at the question, and sharp excitement zips to my core at the tone in his voice. One that was almost a warning, like I might be in trouble if it is what I came to ask for.
I move on his lap, my posture stiffening the moment I feel it. Right beneath my pussy, his cock grows hard, the swollen ridge of it teasing me through my dress that’s riding up with every movement, hardly keeping my ass and cunt covered.
I freeze, unsure of what to do. For a second I think that maybe it’s not what I think, that he’s not turned on and this is all some deranged dream, then I feel it again. Along with a subtle twitch of his cock when I shift once more as a final test.
A rumbling growl bursts from Cole’s chest like a wild animal. He holds me still so I can’t move. His face moves closer, the lingering peppermint on his breath becoming stronger as his warm breath coasts across my lips.
“If I have to ask you that question again, Vixen, there will be consequences.”
The hair on the back of my neck rises. “Consequences?”
His hand on my thigh glides up to where the hem of my dress has bunched. He massages the skin, his touch a scorching brand.
Cole’s lips find the shell of my ear and he traces them over the sensitive skin. I shiver from the coarse feel of his beard.
A deep hum filled with devious promises expels from his lips before he says, “Be a good girl and tell Santa the truth.”
“And what do you think that truth is?”
He skims his beard over my ear once more, his grip on me tightening stronger yet. “That you’re a naughty girl, who came here to ask Santa to fuck your needy pussy.”
A gasp that turns into a moan when his cock kicks beneath my ass expels from my lips in a waterfall. I pull back as much as I can, so I can see his eyes. Gone is the shock of when I first arrived unexpectedly, gone is any hesitation that I might have seen earlier, and in them is consuming desire.
His milk chocolate eyes are black, high cheekbones pink, his chest falling up and down rapidly. I feel each breath he takes and his building arousal with every tiny movement I make on his lap.
“Cole—”
“No baby,” he stops me. “You call me Santa when you’re in my cabin, here on my lap.”
I squeeze my thighs together, feeling how soaked my underwear is with the action. I was wet the moment I saw Cole again, but now the cute red bikini pair I chose to wear are for sure ruined.
The endearment, plus asking me to call him Santa, should not be so hot, but it is.
The rational part of my brain knows what he’s doing.
If he’s Santa, and I’m just a woman who came to innocently ask for a Christmas wish, then he’s not Cole Saint, my friend’s dad, and I’m not Vixen North, his daughter's best friend.
“Santa,” I wet my dry lips, our eyes still connected. His shoulders visibly relax when I call him what he asked, understanding passing between us.
“Yes, Vixen?”
“If you ask me again, what’s the consequence?”
I swear his cock grows harder yet beneath me, whatever he’s thinking about turning him on immensely. His hand on my thigh slides downward until he’s patting my ass, and his lips dip dangerously close to mine, so we’re almost kissing.
“You really want to know, Vixen?”
“Yes, Santa.”
He playfully nips at my lip, and I chase him for a kiss, but he doesn’t allow it.
“I’m going to pull up this little velvet dress of yours.” He rubs the tip of his nose over mine. “Rip those pretty tights open,” he nuzzles my neck. “And spank your ass red until you’re ready to be a good girl for me.”
My heart beats wildly in my chest and another moan slips out when he kisses over my pulse point. I grind on his lap and he pulls back, tsking.
“You want me to spank the naughty out of you, don’t you?”
I slide my fingers up the back of his neck, under the fuzzy white trim of his Santa hat so I can grip the tips of his short hair.
I’ve always walked on the wild side with sex, and spanking has been something I found I enjoyed.
Imagining Cole taking me over his knee, his big palms spanking me while he talks dirty, I nearly come thinking about it, grinding over his cock to feel it twitch for me again.
“I’ll take that as yes.” Cole swats my outer thigh then pulls me back before I can bury my face in his neck and suck on it—in the hope to leave a souvenir of our time together.
“Go lock the back door,” he swats my outer thigh again. “Then lay over my knees, naughty girl. It’s time I teach you a lesson.”