Page 29 of Tee the Season
“Yeah?” My hands find her waist.
“Makes me wonder if I’ve been naughty or nice this year.”
“Is that right?” I pull her flush against me so she can feel how hard I am.
“Very right.” She’s looking at me as if I’m something she wants to unwrap.
“Oh, you’ve definitely been naughty,” I assure her. “Question is, what’s Santa’s going to do about it.”
Her breath hitches, but a slow smile spreads across her face. “Santa will have to wait because I have a present for him first.”
“Do you now?”
“Mm-hmm,” she hums in my ear before she sucks my earlobe into her warm mouth. “My mouth.”
My cock strains against my pants as she draws back with a mischievous grin, pressing me backward toward the reading chair. My legs hit the chair, and I sink down, my heart hammering. She drops to her knees between my thighs, and every coherent thought evaporates.
“Tabitha—”
“Camera’s off, right?” She’s reaching for my belt, wicked smile in place. “Because this will not be PG.”
“Hell—” My eyes dart to the laptop, which is closed, thank God. “Yes, off. Everything’s off.”
“Good.” Her fingers work the buckle, but the massive belt seems stuck, and she frowns, tugging harder.
“Let me help—”
“Be patient.” She bats my hands away without looking up. “I’ve got it.”
Watching her concentrate on undressing me is torture. The determination on her face. The way her tongue peeks out slightly as she focuses. The fact she’s on her knees in front of me in her bookstore. Hell, it’s a fantasy I didn’t even know I had.
The belt finally comes free, and she tosses it aside with triumph. Then her hands go to the velvet pants and hit another obstacle.
“How many layers are in this thing?”
“Too many.” I’m already sweating, and the anticipation is making it worse.
She’s wrestling with the pants now, trying to get them down, and I’m torn between helping and enjoying the view. She’s so focused, so determined, and the sight of her like this—wanting me badly enough to fight with a ridiculous holiday costume—does something to me.
This is Tabitha. Who hasn’t dated in months. Who turned down Dave from the post office twice because he wasn’t exciting enough. Who slipped out of my hotel room before dawn because she didn’t do repeats.
And she’s here. On her knees. Fighting with Santa pants because she wants me.
“These are coming off.” She yanks hard, and the pants give way. I lift enough that she can slide them, along with my boxers, down to my ankles.
The cool air hits my heated skin, and I hiss. My cock is straining, and the way she looks at me makes it throb.
She tugs the pillow from under the jacket and places it under her knees with a grin. “Much better.”
Then her hand wraps around my base, and I nearly come off the chair.
“Fuck, Tabitha—”
“Shhh.” Her hand strokes slowly, deliberately. “Santa’s supposed to be generous, right? Give good girls what they want?”
“And you’ve been a good girl?”
She leans forward, breath warm against my tip. “I’ve been very, very good.”
