There was a knock on the door. "Did you forget something, Liam?"
But it wasn't Liam—it was Chloe.
The door swung open, and she walked in on impossibly high platform stiletto boots. She posed in front of me, and my eyes wandered up, up the thigh-high boots, up to the very short skirt and low-cut top of the sexiest Santa outfit I'd ever seen.
"Cute," I replied, my cock throbbing.
"One of my fans sent it to me," she said. The little pompom on the Santa hat she wore bounced as she talked.
"Do you like it?" she purred, striking a little pose.
"You're drunk."
"I am," Chloe said, walking over to me and resting her hands against my chest.
"I don't want to take advantage of you," I said.
"You're such a gentleman. The prince of winter. It's freezing in here; I should warm you up." She pressed up against me. I was very close to losing all sense of control.
"You're too drunk for this," I told her.
"Correction. You're not drunk enough," she said, leading me to the kitchen.
"You know what this outfit didn't come with?" she said, walking over to the counter. Her ass was tantalizingly perky with the heels.
I swallowed. "What didn't it come with?" I asked her.
"Matching lingerie."
27
Chloe
Ibent over the counter slowly. The skirt, though short, was full from the starched layers of lace underneath.Everythingwas exposed when I bent over, and I felt the chill of the air on my thighs and the glistening darker pink flesh. I looked at Jack over my shoulder as I bent over.
"I can't believe you came here without any underwear," he said. His voice sounded ragged.
"It's constraining," I said in my best sultry voice. "I'm also not wearing a bra."
"How did you get your tits to look so good in that outfit?" His voice was an octave lower, and it purred through me.
"Are you hard?" I asked as I watched him unzip his pants.
"What do you think?"
He walked over to me and let his hand travel down my back, let his fingers slide up my warm inner thigh. His hands were a counterpoint to the blazing heat that went through me.
"I know you want to taste my Christmas cookies," I told him, the alcohol giving me the courage I hadn't had the last time I had been in his apartment. He leaned over to kiss my neck. I felt his cock, hard through the silken boxer briefs, press against my bare thigh.
His hand circled around my chest, working one of my breasts out of the low-cut top. He rubbed it, pinching and teasing the nipple. I wanted his mouth on my nipple; I wanted his mouth everywhere. All the tension of the past few days had reached a boiling point, and I needed relief.
Jack let a hand sink into my hair then tugged me lightly upright. I turned around, and he kissed me deeply, promising pleasure. His mouth moved down, kissing my neck, my collarbone, and the breasts that now spilled out of the too-tight top. I gasped, my chest heaving.
"This costume is too much," Jack said with a huff of laughter.
"It's a little too small," I said, pulling his head back down to my breasts, letting him kiss and lick them.
His fingers found the silky wetness between my legs. I moaned, spreading my legs, inviting him to fuck me with more than his hands.
