Page 43 of Unwrapped

“COME HERE. SIT ON ME.”

He’s so sexy. Even in that ridiculous suit. I sigh, fluffing my hair, smiling sexily as I sashay forward in my ruby heels.

“I’ve been a bad girl.”

“Have you?” He growls as I lift my arms and throw my mohair sweater to the ground.

His huge arms come around me as my thighs straddle his. He’s built like an ox. Big everywhere. “You smell so good,” I moan, running my tongue up the side of his neck.

“You smell better.”

His calloused hands unclasp my bra and I moan, as they move to the front cupping me boldly before his rough tongue rolls a nipple in his hot mouth.

“Your beard tickles,” I giggle.

“You think this is funny?” He growls.

He moves me forward on his lap.

“Oh.” I pause stunned at what I feel poking me.

“You’re gonna be saying a lot more of that soon, cupcake.”

“You…you seem so familiar.”

“Do I?”

“Please. Let me see you. Take off the beard.”

“I can’t sugar. It’s your fantasy.” He goes back to rolling my nipple between his teeth and his hands lower, parting my velvet skirt with fur trim that matches his Santa suit. “Fuck, you’re wet.” His fingers rub through my folds, find my aching nub and pinch hard.

“Gah!” I scream.

“Are you gonna come for me, naughty girl?”

He pumps in and out, suckles at my tits and smacks my pussy hard.

“Yess! I’m coming for you!”

“I knew you would,” he smirks, yanking off the fake beard.

“You again!” I scream still coming on his hand.

“Hiya, cupcake. Ready for round two?”

“Shiloh! Wake up! Unlock the damn door!”

“Huh?” I grumble falling out of sleep and tumbling back into reality angry as all hell. “Stop banging!” I snarl. “Fuck!” My toes snag in the fallen bed sheet and I trip, landing with a thud.

“That’s it. I’m using the master key!” Sally cries, seconds before my door is flung open wide.

“You!” We both gasp, coming face to face.

It’s him.

The mysterious man from a few days ago. My palms itch to smack the smirk right off his face. My thighs still burn from the dream I was just rudely snapped out of. My breasts are swollen and heavy.

“I hate Christmas,” I moan.

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