Page 22 of The Santa Rules
“You know, that should embarrass me, but it does not.” She folds her arms under her chest, propping her tits up on them.
My eyes rake down, drawn to her cleavage before traveling up to her lips. They’re full and so fucking kissable. Holy shit, do I want to kiss them.
“So, what’s Santa’s Workshop?” I ask, averting my gaze, breaking the tension, as I tug on the back of my neck.
She looks at me with a blank stare, blinking slowly. I’m not sure if she’s uncomfortable because of the way I was checking her out, or if she’s teasing me about my question. “I mean, I know it’s where Santa works at the North Pole, but in the context of the school, and whatever it is I volunteered for, what are we talking about? We didn’t really get to that part the other night.”
“Are you telling me that you signed up to help run this and you don’t even know what it is?”
“Well, the lady running it is really hot, and she’s already showed me one of her boobs, so I was kinda hoping she’d show me the other.”
Her head falls back in laughter, and my eyes track the delicate column of her throat, wishing I could grab it while driving my cock into her.Tamp it down, man.Clearly this woman has awoken something in me that I’m having trouble containing.
“Santa’s Workshop is a fundraiser the PTO does every year. Where most of the fundraisers we do aim to raise money for the school, this one raises money to give back to families in need in the community. Basically, we buy cheap items, mark up the price by a dollar or two, sell them, then donate the proceeds. The kids come through and do all their holiday shopping for their families. Parents usually send cash in an envelope that has names of who they’re shopping for and a budget for each person.”
I run my hand through my stubble as I survey the papers on her desk. “So, what are we looking at here?”
“Amber dropped off a stack of papers from the chair of last year’s workshop, but I swear that woman is determined to watch me fail. She is meticulous about her meetings and notes and has a color-coated notebook for everything, yet she hands me a disorganized pile of chaos?”
“That is weird.” I pick up several sheets of paper that look like an itemized list of inventory, complete with sales prices, cost of goods, and potential profits. “This looks like the list of items they sold last year. I'll go through the stack and pull out any other pages that look like this. Do we have items left over from last year? Or do we have to buy inventory to sell?”
“I think there are some boxes of leftover items from last year in the PTO storage closet. We can go down there and look at what we’re working with.”
It takes us twenty minutes to go through all the papers and organize them into piles based on the type of document. Then she’s leading me down the hall, toward the front office. I stare at her perfectly round ass the entire time as she gives me flirty glances over her shoulder. Most of the staff has already left, but I can still hear the faint squeaks of sneakers on the gym floor.
When Bella opens the door to the PTO closet, I’m assaulted by the chaos. “Holy shit, there’s so much crap in here. Is therean organizational system?” I ask, looking around at the shelves full of boxes, only a handful of which are labeled.
“Apparently, Amber’s organization only extends to her binders,” Bella grumbles.
We decide to divide and conquer, each of us taking our place on opposite ends of the small space as we start at the bottom shelf and work our way up and over, pulling out each box to examine its contents. I’m starting to feel hopeless when we meet in the middle and are still coming up empty.
“I think it’s those boxes on the top shelves. I vaguely remember a few of us shoving shit in here last year during the cleanup.” She points to several boxes tucked in the back top corner of the room.
Backing up to get out of her way, she brushes against me as she walks over to the shelf. The move feels intentional, and my cock stiffens in response. I watch as she reaches up, exposing a sliver of her stomach. “Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to help me?” Her tone is flirty as she wiggles her ass.
“Go ahead. I’m just enjoying the view,” I say, leaning against a shelf as I watch her stretch onto her toes, struggling to reach the top shelf.
She places a foot on a bin on the bottom shelf, trying to extend her reach, but slips. I lean over to catch her, wrapping an arm around her waist as I pull her into me.
My heart races wildly in my chest as our eyes meet, and I search her face for answers. Does she want this? Her eyes rake down to my lips, and she leans into me. I can feel the way her chest expands with every breath, and I close the distance between us.
There’s an explosion in my chest the second her lips touch mine as the last of my resolve leaves my body and she moans into my mouth. I pull back to take a breath, and she reaches a hand up to my jaw, pulling my lips back to hers as I groan. She takes full advantage and pushes her tongue against mine. Thetaste of winter mint floods my senses, and I chase the flavor as I lick and suck while her other hand clasps my neck, pulling me closer.
Not an inch of space is left between our bodies, and I know she can feel the effect she has on me everywhere, my heart beating rapidly in my chest, each stuttered breath and ragged inhale, every moan that rumbles in my throat, and the bulge rapidly growing in my pants.
Just when I think I can’t take another minute of this without being inside of her, she pulls away and steps back, untangling herself from me. The gravity of the situation hits me, where we are, what we’re supposed to be doing. We’re in the storage closet of a school making out like teenagers. My kid’s school. And Bella is her teacher. But fuck, I like the way she feels under my fingertips.
Her hand rubs against her bottom lip as she stares at me, and I have trouble deciphering her expression. “Ummm…”
Ummm? That was the best fucking kiss of my life, and all I get is an ummm?
She must see the annoyance on my face, and she holds her hands up like she doesn’t want me to come any closer.
“Was it that bad? I’m kinda out of practice,” I say, scratching my neck, my nerves getting the better of me.
“Are you kidding me? Your tongue was doing more tricks than a poodle at the National Dog show. I felt like an amateur trying to keep up.”
“You liked it?”
