Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 56462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 282(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 282(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
“Honestly, I don’t really know,” I admit, pushing up until I’m sitting cross-legged beside him. “From that very first time I saw you when I was a kid, my little brain assumed you were Santa’s son, and that’s stuck with me all this time.”
He nods. “Well, your little kid brain was right. I am his son. Only he’s no longer Santa Claus. I am, but I prefer to go by Nick.”
My face scrunches. “Santa Claus, huh?” I say slowly, letting it really sink in as a million different thoughts filter through my brain. I mean, how can his father simply not be Santa anymore? But also, is he Nick as in jolly old Saint Nicholas?
Nick sits up against the headboard and lets out a heavy sigh. “Okay, then. Hit me with it. I know you have questions.”
“If you are Santa, what the hell are you doing here with me? Don’t you have like . . . I don’t know, a billion gifts to deliver to kids all over the world?”
“Two and a half billion,” he corrects. “And no, I’m all done for the night. You’d be surprised just how quickly I can get my job done when I know there’s a beautiful woman here waiting for me to fuck her into oblivion.”
A stupid smile pulls across my lips as I feel my cheeks begin to flush. “Okay, so you’ve made all the children of the world happy, but how did you do it? Is the whole reindeer and sleigh thing real?”
He nods and points toward the ceiling. “They’re waiting up on the roof.”
My eyes bug out of my head. “Holy fucking shit. You’re lying. There’s magical reindeer on the roof right now?”
Nick laughs. “Yes. They can be dicks sometimes, but after the night they’ve had, they’re pretty chill right now. You could come up and meet them if you’d like.”
“Really? Would that be okay?”
“Of course.”
I bite down on my lip, feeling a swell of butterflies deep in my stomach, knowing if I’m not careful, I could so easily fall in love with this man, which is so stupidly ridiculous considering I will only ever see him once a year. Assuming he wakes me up of course.
“So, how come you’re Santa now? You don’t exactly look like a typical Santa.”
Nick laughs. “Believe me, I know,” he says. “It’s a bit of a sore point with my old man back home. But being Santa is a family thing. Passed down from father to son for generations, and a few years back, my father—the Santa of your childhood—retired and passed the reins to me.”
“So, you’re it now.”
“Yep.”
“Shit. No pressure, huh?”
“You’ve got no fucking idea,” he murmurs before setting his gaze on me, a heaviness beginning to settle between us as I realize it’s almost time for him to leave.
“You have to go, don’t you?”
Nick nods. “Yes, I’ve completed your wishes and the type of magic I have to do that won’t allow me to abuse that power.”
“Damn,” I sigh. “Does it make a difference if I don’t want you to go?”
“I wish it could.”
Willing myself not to break, I crawl across my bed and right into his lap, straddling him as he holds my stare. “When you say you’ve completed all my wishes, does that mean you heard what I said in the fountain?”
He smiles. “Not only did I hear you,” he says, digging into his pocket and pulling out a piece of paper. “I also got a printout to make sure I didn’t miss anything.”
“No way,” I laugh, taking the piece of paper and glancing over the exact wishes I had made with Carolina while shivering outside of the fountain, my teeth chattering from the cold.
I wish to be dicked down so hard that my knees will shake for weeks after.
I wish to be thrown around, flipped over like a pancake and railed within an inch of my life.
I wish to be dragged down my bed only to feel a warm mouth close over my clit and scream as he works me with his skilled tongue.
I wish to make him come apart in my mouth.
I wish to come alive, to feel things I’ve never felt before, and to be screwed so good that nothing will ever compare.
“Oh my god. This is so embarrassing,” I say, covering my face. “And yet, I can’t bring myself to regret it.”
“Even if I told you my old man saw these too?”
My face drains of color, and I gape at him in horror, my heart racing as humiliation washes over me. “Please tell me you’re lying.”
“Really wish I could,” he tells me, not bothering to spare my feelings for even a second, though he doesn’t strike me as the type to play silly games. He’ll give it to me straight. “So, tell me, Mila. Have I completed your wishes to your satisfaction?”