He draws back enough to look into my eyes, his voice low and rough—not whispered, but intimate enough to scrape over my skin. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
Something in me breaks. Or, heck, maybe it heals. Either way, I’m the one who closes the distance this time. I kiss him with everything I’ve been holding back, with all the desperation twisting inside me to make this real—because no matter howsudden it all is, I want more of him. I need more of him. He’s somehow become the center of my universe. That should terrify me, but it doesn’t. I surrender to the heat of his mouth, the claim of his tongue sliding against mine, the pounding heartbeat under my palm. He’s everything I’ve ever wanted but was too afraid to hope for. I just pray he’s not playing with me. I need every word he gives me to be real. I desperately need this—us—to be real. Because God help me …
I’m already falling.
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.
