Page 5 of Grumpy Santa

She tells me, “Darlin, I think you’re pretty as a picture with your pigtails and your overalls. But men are like fish, they need something shiny to catch their attention.”

So I put a necklace on, with a sparkling pendant that hung just at the entrance to my cleavage. Obviously the reason why Brandon—no, that’s not right, Brenton?—well, whatever his name was, it’s obvious that pendant kept his eyes locked on my girls.

I make my way, barefoot, into the main room of the floor to ceiling shelving wearing nothing but my underwear. I do tend to dress very bland. I favor jeans and overalls and t-shirts. I have a sizable collection of low top Chucks, which I think go with everything, in practically every color. I’m a no frills kind of girl. Except when it comes to my bras and panties.

I like soft, luxurious fabric that whispers across my skin. I put on my favorite playlist on my phone and climb the ladder to get to the top shelf. I know that particular shelf is the worst.

I laugh when one of my favorite Christmas songs starts to play. It’s October, not at all too early to start getting into the holiday spirit.

chapter four

Jared

Sometimes if I’ve met some buddies at Ace’s bar and grill and I’ve had one too many beers, I go back to the shop and sleep on the old sofa I keep in the back room. I live a few miles outside of town, and I’m not drunk by any stretch—I think I’d get alcohol poisoning before that would happen—but I am tired. Too tired to drive well on dark country roads with suicidal deer.

But as soon as I step into the back door of my shop, I know something’s not right.

First of all, I hear music. It’s not particularly loud, but it’s definitely coming from the maze of shelving to the right of this area we use like a break room. Secondly, I see clothes tossed on the very couch I was planning to sleep on. Women’s clothes.

Fury burns through my body. I’m going to fucking kill her if she brought a man here to fuck in my damn store. I storm forward to find her and whatever fuckboy she’s brought into my goddamn domain. My hands flex at my sides.

Then I hear her giggle. My head turns to the area where the sound came from and I nearly swallow my tongue.

She is a curvy goddess wearing nothing but tiny scraps of hot pink fabric. It looks silky to the touch. She looks silky to the touch.

I move without realizing it until I’m standing behind her. There’s no one else here that I can see, and she’s clearly working on something, perched up on that ladder. Her plump ass wiggles as she moves to the music, which sounds like a burlesque version of You’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch.

Her hands grip the sides of the ladder and she bends slightly, still dancing.

I’m not sure what is happening right now. Why is she practically naked and dancing on a ladder in my store?

Maybe I hit my head on the way here and I’m actually unconscious on the street. This is clearly just a fantasy I’m having while my brain hemorrhages.

I reach down and palm my dick that is painfully pressing against my blue jean zipper. That erection sure feels fucking real. Goddammit, she’s even better than I’d imagined.

She makes a noise and then her balance wobbles. I’m next to her in a second. Our eyes meeting briefly in the round safety mirror. Then my arms catch her and pull her the rest of the way off the ladder. I’ve got her cradled against my body like she’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of.

Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes wide as she peers up at me. I want to press her against the wall and tear her plump little body apart with my lips and teeth.

I should put her down, but as I spin us away from the ladder, my hands grip her soft flesh. When I realize I’m very nearly squeezing her ass, I set her down.

I pull off my backwards ball cap and rub my head before I put the hat right back where it was.

“What the fuck are you doing here? And what are you wearing?” I snap.

Her shoulders slump slightly, but her chin tips up in defiance. “You don’t have to make fun of me.”

Goddamn. It’s so hard not to look at all her exposed skin. So much on display. I can see pale skin in my periphery, but I keep my fucking eyes on her face. She’s not even wrapping her arms around herself, not even attempting to cover her skin.

“I wasn’t making fun,” I say. “It’s dangerous to be on a ladder without anyone else around. If I hadn’t been here to catch you, you could have hit your head and died.”

Her hands fist at her rounded hips. “Well, if I hadn’t seen you grab your dick over your jeans, I wouldn’t have gotten distracted and nearly fallen!”

Defiance flares in her eyes. I lose the battle in that moment. My gaze drops to the bright pink bra that hugs her large, perfect tits. Lowers still to the indentation of her waist that leads to the thick flare of her hips. She wears matching pink panties that have some kind of strap design encircling her body right below her belly button. Her creamy thighs touch, hiding her sweetness from me. I want to part them, run my hand over the panel of silky fabric covering her pussy to see if she’s wet.

Is she shaved bare, or neatly trimmed? Will the hair match the pale blonde on her head?

“Is that why you were grabbing yourself?” she asks, her voice breathy. “Do you like what you see, big guy?”