I press a hand to his chest, tracing slow circles over his skin with my thumb. “Merciful, huh? That’s not what I remember from last night.”
He laughs quietly. “You liked last night.”
“I didn’t say I didn’t.”
Miguel catches my wrist, pulling my hand away from his chest just long enough to kiss the inside of it. His lips are warm, and the scratch of his fake beard makes me shiver.
I glance toward the loft, the wooden railing above barely visible in the dim light. “You planning to take this upstairs, or are we about to traumatize the Christmas tree?”
Miguel’s eyes follow mine, a slow, wicked smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Upstairs,” he says, voice rough. “I want you in bed when I unwrap you.”
The words hit me square in the chest. My knees go weak, and I force out a shaky laugh. “You’re insufferable.”
“Say that again when you can’t even talk because you’ve got Santa’s cock feeding you his cum.”
Well, fuck me.
I shove at him, but he catches me easily, pulling me in close. I can feel the rumble of his laughter against my chest as we start up the stairs—me half laughing, half gasping, him close enough that every step feels like a countdown.
When we reach the loft, I turn to face him, still grinning, still breathless. “So tell me, Santa,” I tease, tilting my head. “What does Santa give naughty boys?”
Miguel’s grin vanishes, replaced by something darker. He steps in until I can feel the heat of him everywhere, his fingers tangling in the front of my shirt.
Then he rips the fake beard down, tosses it aside, and crushes his mouth to mine in a kiss that steals every trace of laughter from my lungs.
When he finally pulls back, his voice is a growl against my lips.
“Naughty boys get bent over,” he says, each word rough and deliberate, “and fucked like the little sluts they are.”
Those words send a jolt through me, and I can feel the heat pooling in my groin. Pressing myself against him, feeling his cock twitch through the thin fabric of his trousers, has the words leaving my mouth before my brain can process them. “Promises, promises.” I sigh.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
Bratting after being chased through the snow, hurting myself, and now I’m probably about to get the dicking of a lifetime.
I make bad decisions.
Or really good ones.
Miguel’s eyes flash with something primal. “Has Santa’s little brat come out to play?” He growls, his hands roaming down to grip my ass, pulling me flush against him. I can feel every inch of him, hard and ready, and it makes my head spin.
Walking me backward until my legs hit the edge of the bed. I fall back, landing on the soft mattress, and Miguel follows, his body covering mine. His hands are everywhere, tearing at my clothes, his mouth hot and demanding on my skin.
I arch into his touch, gasping as he bites down on my nipple, the sharp pain mixing with the pleasure coursing through my veins. “Miguel,” I breathe, my fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer.
He trails kisses down my stomach, his hands pushing my pants down, freeing my cock. I’m already hard and leaking, and he takes me in his hand, stroking slowly. “Fuck,” I hiss, my hips bucking into his touch.
A wide grin on his face, his eyes dark with lust. “Relax, baby,” he says, his voice low and teasing. “There’s no rush.”
Easy for him to say. He’s been edging me for hours.
I moan, my head falling back against the duvet. “I can’t wait any longer,” I respond, my voice strained with need.
“Eres un pinche impaciente.”Leaning over, his tongue flicking out to swirl around the tip, then taking me into his mouth, and I groan, my back arching off the bed. The sensation is overwhelming, with the perfect suction on the head, and his hand working in time with his mouth. It’s like he’s trying to break the record for making me come. The pressure building hasmy balls tightening, but the asshole pulls back just as I’m about to come, leaving me gasping and desperate.
“Miguel,porfa,” I beg, my voice hoarse with need. “I need you to fuck me.”
“Oh, baby. You begging in Spanish does something for me.” He rises up, his body glistening with sweat, and reaches for the bottle of lube on the nightstand. I watch him, my heart pounding with anticipation, as he coats his fingers with lube. “Relájate,hermoso,” he says softly, his eyes meeting mine. He leans down, capturing my mouth in a gentle kiss, his tongue exploring, tasting, and soothing.
