Santa’s Coming (High Five Novella #1)

Chapter 16 Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree

Can you fall in love with someone by hearing their orgasm? Those sounds she made weren’t just a melody to my ears; they were a Christmas carol resonating in my soul.

Lying next to her on the floor, I prop myself up, my gaze fixated on her.

Her fingers and lips embark on an exploration of my bare chest, her touch whispering praises for each muscle and a silent cheer for the ink on my skin. While I am content letting her lead this merry dance, my purpose is to lavish her with affection, to be her ultimate Christmas indulgence. Gently, I trace her leg, and with a confident roll, I find myself above her.

“Tonight, it’s all about unwrapping your happiness,” I softly whisper in her ear.

“Really?” she teases, her fingers playfully skirting the hem of my red pants.

“Emily,” I caution, a smirk growing on my lips as her hand ventures below, seeking my excitement.

“Santa,” she quips with a twinkle in her eye, “you seem extra jolly tonight.”

I chuckle, loving her playfulness. “Let me make this easier for you.” I take her hand away for a moment and slide off the pants.

She glances at my underwear. “You should lose those too,” she suggests with a mischievous glint.

With a grin, I comply, and there we are, me in my birthday suit, her in just a bra.

“This should definitely come off,” I playfully growl, nibbling a strap and easing it down her shoulder. She turns, releasing her bra with a flick of her wrist.

“You’re perfect,” I say in a soft whisper before kissing her temple and tossing the bra.

She gives a sassy grin and reaches for me again. As we lie side by side, I passionately kiss, and her hand eagerly strokes. I’m already so turned on from eating her out. I’m going to come sooner than I’d like.

“Fuck,” I breathe.

She bites my earlobe, picking up the pace. Flicking her tongue around my ear, my body is tingling. She lets go of me and pushes me onto my back. Her tongue trails down me until my cock is in her mouth.

“Baby,” I pant. I’m sweating from the heat of the fire and the heat of this moment.

She takes me deep, and I stare at the ceiling, continuing to accept that this fantasy is actually playing out. I remind myself to send the social media team a Christmas bonus. I don’t know when I would have ever gotten the nerve to talk to her. Now she’s bobbing on my cock and making me feel like I’m about to explode. Swirling her tongue on my tip, we lock eyes. She is such a naughty girl, and I fucking love it.

“I’m about to come,” I say breathily.

“Do it.” She pauses. “On my stomach.”

Her bold request is a delightful surprise, and the nasty idea makes my heart pound.

“Lie back,” I demand, and palm myself.

Straddling her, I admire every inch of her exposed body, giving myself a few final, decisive strokes. She squeezes my thighs and ass, and I release all fucking over her. Her chest, her stomach, the carpet. I’ve never come this hard. It’s even more intense than if I was inside her. Well, maybe not. Hopefully, I will find out.

“What a merry mess!” I chuckle, and she playfully swats my arm at the pun. “Where’s your kitchen? I’ll clean this up.”

“I got it. Don’t—”

“Let me.”

She points toward a door, and I venture through her home naked. The song “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus” plays in my head, and I’m relieved her son isn’t here. As I locate the soap and a couple of dish towels, a grin is glued on my face, reminiscing over the past hour. I’ve always wanted to role-play like this, though I’ve never gotten the chance. My ex had hangups she was never able to resolve.

But Emily, she’s adventurous, spontaneous, and so beautiful in every way. She’s already driven me crazier than any other woman before her. Not that there have been a lot. Just a handful of hot nights since the breakup. I want this and her to be more than that. She’s a chance at something profound.

I wipe up my mess on her body, etching every detail of the scandalous scene into my memory. After addressing the carpet, she slinks back on top of me, asserting her dominance. But not this time. With a swift motion, I flip her beneath me.

“Be a good girl for Santa,” I command, drawing her leg over my shoulder, kissing her knee, and tracing slow circles on her clit.

“Condom,” she prompts, reaching for the box.

I normally wouldn’t be able to go again this quickly, but hearing her say condom sends all the blood in my body south.

The box is just out of her reach, and I grab it. Swiftly opening it, I take out a condom and roll it on. There’s a side of me that wants to wait until she knows the real me in a battle with another part that senses my life is about to change.

She notices my pause. “Why do I always have to beg you?” she sasses.

With a smirk, I slowly enter. She’s a gift in every sense, the most exquisite one I’ve ever received. I’ve never wanted to be inside someone so badly. I need it, and with every inch deeper, my thrill turns hotter.

She squirms uncomfortably, and I freeze. “Everything all right?”

“So big,” she gasps.

I raise my brow, unable to hide how much I love that she thinks that.

She pulls me by the lip with her teeth, then kisses me like I’ve never been kissed. I want it. All of it. I could lose myself. I could find myself. While exploring her, I’m also claiming her. Everything about this woman is all mine, at least for tonight. She drags her fingernails down my back, and fuck, do I want her to maul me. I dig my hands into her long, brown hair, lightly pulling in response.

“Yes,” she pants heavily. Sweet baby Jesus, she feels like heaven yet is so, so wicked. She pulls my hair hard, tilts my chin up, and teases her tongue along my lips.

Her lip and body start quivering, and I know she’s close. She’s whimpering and swearing at me in the sexiest way. I rest my forehead against hers, fucking in long strokes. I try to hold out. I keep going until I feel her quake around my cock. The sensation takes me over the edge, and I release so fucking hard I pray the condom can handle the load.

We pant for seconds or minutes. Time is a concept too complex for the moment. Regaining my stamina, I roll Emily on all fours, our playful dynamic still alive in the charged air.

“You have been a naughty girl, flirting with Santa,” I say with a light spank, the sound echoing our playful charade. “Distracting Santa from all the other homes.” Another teasing swat follows, her giggle reverberating through me. As I reach for another condom, my mind can’t help but admire her, every curve a landscape of desire. “You’ve also been a nice girl, making Santa happy and giving me this body.”

On all fours, she looks back at me; her gaze heated. Her eyes are challenging me. I’m going to fuck her like my life depends on it. At this moment, our connection feels deeper than just physical—it’s as if we are communicating on a level beyond words.

“Emily, baby,” I murmur as I enter her again, my hands finding a firm hold on her hips. I’m completely taken by her; every sensation magnified. Leaning down, I bite her shoulder gently, and her reaction is immediate—a tense, sharp intake of breath. “My naughty, little elf.” I chuckle, but it’s laughter filled with affection as I slowly start to move, building a rhythm that mirrors the beating of our hearts.

“Oh my God,” she exclaims, her body tensing under my touch, and instinctively, I pause, concern momentarily replacing desire.

“No!” she urges, her voice a mix of hunger and assurance. “Get back in there.”

“You sounded like you were in pain,” I say hesitantly. The last thing I want is to cause her any discomfort. She’s precious to me, a treasure in human form, yet she constantly reminds me of her strength and resilience.

“It was the good kind,” she assures me, and those words ignite something within me, a primal desire that takes over as I reenter her with renewed passion.

As we continue, every moan, every touch, every response from her becomes a part of me. I’m lost in her, captivated by the allure of her movements and the way she responds to my touch.

“Fuck,” I murmur, a raw admission of my feelings. “I’m going to make you my Mrs. Claus.” The words escape me, more a confession of my deep, unspoken desires than a continuation of our playful banter.

As the night and Emily unfold for me, I take her in every imaginable position. I can’t ignore our connection. It’s intense and profound and goes beyond mere physical pleasure; it’s a dance of souls intertwining.

In the quiet aftermath, as our breaths slow and our hearts still race, my mind wanders to simpler yet equally intimate fantasies. I yearn to wake up next to her, to be the one who makes her morning coffee, to share lazy, cozy moments on the couch. The physical exhaustion from our passionate exploration is nothing compared to the emotional exhilaration of being so close to her.

For years, I’ve had a mental list of adventures and experiences I want to explore, but in these moments with Emily, I realize that what I crave most is the mundane magic of everyday life with someone special. As the clock nudges us toward midnight, the reality of time sets in, reminding me that our enchanted evening must draw to a close.

“It’s almost time for Santa to leave,” I whisper with a hint of regret in my voice because the night must end.

Her pout, a charming blend of disappointment and playfulness, is heartwarming. “So soon?”

“You asked me for a foot rub and a good night’s sleep. I should leave so you can have everything you wished for this Christmas.”

“But I forgot the milk and cookies.”

I chuckle, our banter a comfortable rhythm. “This year, I think the mischief you provided was more than enough.”

She surprises me with a simple yet meaningful request. “Santa, I have one more wish.”

I’m willing to grant her anything at this moment. “Yes, baby.”

“Tell me your name.”

Revealing myself feels like the natural next step, a bridge from our role-play fantasy to something real. “My name is Nicholas.”

“Old Saint Nick!” she exclaims with a playful swat, her surprise and delight clear in her big, brown eyes. “Is your name seriously Nick?”

I nod with a grin. “Southside Irish, born and raised in Chicago. Celtic tats and all. Nick O’Malley, though I prefer Nicholas.”

She connects the dots, recognizing my name as the newest member of the town’s business council and the owner of High Five.

“Is the beard for the holiday season or …?” she asks, a playful curiosity in her voice.

“It’s something I’m trying out,” I reply, stroking my beard thoughtfully.

“I like it,” she says with a smile, and I feel a warmth spread through me from more than the suit or the role I was playing. “You have to tell me,” she begins with a giggle. “I know I saw you at the grocery store earlier this month. What cereal did you end up buying?”

“Cereal?” I raise my brow then remember that’s what I used to distract myself from the long stare we were holding. “I have no idea.” I laugh and pull her close to me. “I was at war with my internal monologue—weighing the pros and cons of starting up a conversation with you.”

As I whisper confessions in her ear about my long-held desire to know her, my words are more than just Santa’s script—they are Nicholas’s truth. I don’t just want her for tonight; I want to really know her.

As we continue to talk, our conversation peels back the layers of our Santa fantasy, revealing the genuine connection beneath. It’s a revelation, a shift from holiday role-play to a real, meaningful bond. The chemistry we share is undeniable.

“I’m scared, Nicholas,” Emily whispers. “Of getting hurt, of … everything.”

“I know. I am too. Sometimes the best things in life are worth that risk.”

But as I speak, the soft sound of a gentle snore interrupts my confession. There she is, my little elf, Emily, succumbing to sleep. The sight of her, so peaceful, so vulnerable, stirs a tenderness in me that I hadn’t anticipated.

Carefully, I cradle her in my arms, feeling a sense of protectiveness and affection. Carrying her to the couch, I tuck a blanket around her before whispering, “Sleep in heavenly peace, Emily.” My words are a mix of a Christmas carol and a heartfelt wish. Then, I kiss her temple tenderly.

Turning back to my Santa sack, I retrieve the final present. It’s something simple, yet after tonight, it is my favorite gift, a promise of more. With a careful hand, I slide it into her stocking, hoping it will bring a smile to her face in the morning. It’s my way of leaving a part of me with her, a token of a night that has unexpectedly stirred something deep within me.

As I make my silent exit, I look back at her one last time. The flickering lights of the Christmas tree cast a comforting glow over my sleeping beauty. This night started as a playful adventure, a bit of holiday fun. But as I step into the cold night, I feel a warmth that isn’t just from the Santa suit. It’s a warmth that comes from the possibility of what might be, of what this Christmas fantasy could turn into under the light of day.