Santa Nails Christmas
This year, our smutizens wrote Secret Santa stories for one another. Each Smutizen turned in three favorite tropes or id list items and their Secret Santa wrote a story just for them. This entry is for Naima Simone, our lovely guest lecturer and romance author extraordaire. Her list of tropes were: Enemies to lovers, second chance, ex’s best friend.
Happy Holidays, Naima Simone! Here is Santa Nails Christmas by our very own Virginia Brasch.
Mistletoe glistened in the doorway, my fiance stood beneath it grinning, and his mistress coyly sidled up close to him. Merry Fucking Christmas. I kicked him out of my place two weeks ago and he brought her to our company’s holiday party. What a prick.
I stewed in the corner drinking a coffee my best work friend was good enough to spike. At least I looked amazing in a floor length, emerald green sequin wrap dress. I was a festive wet dream — one he’d never have again.
“I can’t believe he brought her tonight,” Maria whispered beside me.
Oh, I could. Tyler was consistent in his assholery. He flirted like he was proving a point while our coworkers milled around drinking and slurring their Christmas wishes on some volunteer Santa’s lap. That’s what they got for hiring a hot Santa, I suppose, but I wasn’t up for pictures. I was too pissed off at having to see Tyler for anything longer than just in passing.
“I’m gonna take my drink in the conference room and read something until it’s socially acceptable to leave,” I whispered to Maria.
She rubbed my back a moment and asked if I wanted company. I shook my head no. I had a new ebook on my phone and a drink. I’d be just fine.
I barely sat down in the quiet of the conference room when Santa loudly announced his break time. The door opened behind me and St. Nick walked in wearing his full costume. His eyes were zeroed in on me, dark and mischievous. He didn’t look at all surprised to see me sitting here. He closed the door behind him with the quick turn of his gloved hand.
“I came in here to escape,” I said, standing.
“From Tyler, I know.” He reached up and pulled off the fluffy white beard. Mark. Instantly familiar, I took in the dark, scruffy jaw and dimples deep enough for me to stick a finger in. He grinned at me. That cocky son of a bitch.
“He would explode if he knew you were here.”
“He would explode if he knew I was the one who told you he was cheating.” Tyler’s best friend stepped closer to me. “But I couldn’t stomach standing by and watching him treat you that way.”
“How in the world did you pull this off?” I asked, pointing to the Santa suit.
He shrugged. “I called in a favor. I had to see you, Eva. You’ve been hard to reach.”
I set my phone on the table. The well-hung blue alien book would have to wait. I met Mark’s gaze and tried to hide the sheepish regret from mine. “I used to hate you. I thought you were the asshole, the player — the one making him go out and act crazy.”
“I only dated around so much because I was trying to distract myself from the girl I really wanted but couldn’t have.”
Something coiled deep in my gut, a tight wrenching knot. Guilt? Wanting? It had always been Mark. Mark who called me an Uber home, Mark who made sure I didn’t wait on cancelled plans, Mark who went back to scour the park for my lost bracelet, and Mark who sent flowers after I landed my big promotion.
“Why did you never tell me?” I whispered.
He looked down to the floor and bit his lip. “You were my best friend’s girl.”
The breath left my lungs in a rush. I couldn’t believe that I hadn't seen it before. “I stayed longer than I should have because I was afraid I’d lose you, too.”
His eyes snapped up to mine. Those big Santa shoes ate up the distance between us in three strides. Mark wrapped strong, red velvet clad arms around me and pressed me back into the conference table.
“Don’t tell me you’ve wanted me all this time…. All this wasted fucking time,” he growled into my ear.
The words lodged in my throat. I pressed my face to his suit jacket and let the fur conceal my reluctant nod.
Mark’s hand slipped up to my jaw and tipped my face up to his. His mouth slanted over mine for a scorching kiss from the softest lips. I fisted my hands in his collar. Now that I had him, I wasn’t letting him go.
Two crushing hands gripped my hips and lifted me onto the table. My knees fell open, pushing my sequin dress as far as it would stretch. He pressed close and I wondered if those
Santa pants had a fly.
“Where the hell is Santa?” Tyler’s voice shouted outside the conference room.
Mark put a hand over my mouth to keep me quiet. Funny thing was, I couldn’t care less about Tyler or whatever the fuck he wanted for Christmas. I was getting my present right now. I found a fly. Thank God. Mark’s dick jerked free of the fabric like a dowsing rod pointing at exactly what it wanted — me.
He slipped the silk underwear I’d never worn for Tyler down my legs and tossed them over his shoulder. Then licked his fingers slowly and then rubbed them over me. He didn’t need to check if I was ready. I’d been denying how much I wanted this for too long.
I wrapped my legs around his hips and urged him on. He grabbed his cock in one hand, gave it a hard pump, and lined himself up. Mark slid home, giving me the full Yule Log and filling me like a stocking stuffer.
I gasped and raked my nails over his shoulders. Mark set a hungry pace. The bell on the tip of his red hat jingled over me with each thrust and he pumped hard enough to sound like the Carol of the Bells. He gripped the edge of my wrap dress and ripped it open. I clung to him when his gloved hand wriggled under my back and unhooked my bra. He threw my trusty strapless bra across the room.
“You must be frosty,” he said, looking down at my hardened nipples. He straightened up and watched me as his every drive forward bounced me on the conference table.
I tightened my legs around him. There was no such thing as enough of Mark. I needed more.
“Please, I…” I couldn’t speak. My words were cut off by a slow slide out of me that left me speechless.
“Do you want to know the secret to getting on my Naughty List?” he asked, leaning over me.
I nodded. He smelled like sugarplums, cinnamon, and sweat. I wanted to inhale him.
He captured my nipple in his mouth for a hard suck. Heat shot through me and I almost rocketed off the table.
Mark wrapped me in his arms and turned us over, hopping onto the table and planting me on top of him like the star on top of a Christmas tree. I grabbed onto his oversized black and gold belt buckle like it was the reins. I rode him until my thighs shook. I was going to empty Santa’s sac.
The closer I got, the harder I moved. Mark’s hands dug hard into my hips. I was going to ride us both over the edge.
I threw my head back when release hit. Mark pumped into me, finding his own hot, pulsing finish. He cried out, “Ho, Ho, Ho!”
Find Virginia on twitter @Virginia_Brasch. You'll love her. She writes funny books and is better than the rest of us. We should all aspire as smart, funny, and horny as Virginia!