The Last Christmas Present: Billionaire Holiday Romance

by Ella Goode

  “That little?” I smirk, amused by her pugnacious response. I pinch her chin. “You don’t have it in you to be a gold-digger.”

  That makes her frown even harder. “Have you met my father? He’s as avaricious as they come. And I only put up a token resistance to you buying a few pieces of clothing that probably cost more than the gross national product of a small country.”

  The elevator stops on the basement and the doors slide open. I usher her out, directing her down the long hallway. All the while, she continues to argue that she’s a terrible human being out to take me for all I’m worth.

  “I loved the nice car. I know you live in that amazing two-story penthouse overlooking Central Park. I’ve fantasized about waking up in that place and cooking breakfast for us.”

  “Or asking the chef to prepare us breakfast,” I chime in.

  “Or I’ll ask the chef to make me breakfast, lunch, and dinner,” she adds on miserably.

  “Go ahead,” I tell her as we reach the sidewalk. I wave a hand to hail Ben. “I don’t give a shit. I’ve got plenty of cash and no one to spend it on. You could be the Bill Gates of gold-diggers and I wouldn’t even notice.”

  “If you don’t care, then why are you so angry? Why are we running off to confront my father?”

  I look down at her in surprise. “You thought I was angry at you?”

  Her wide eyes blink in confusion. “You’re not?”

  “No, baby girl. Like I said, spend my money. It’s there for you to use. I’m angry because you’re eighteen and in charge of your dad’s life. Part of the reason I’ve been trying to resist you is because you’re young. You should be living it up, going to college, getting drunk, skipping class—”

  “Getting groped by guys doped up or bombed out of their head, having professors leer at my tits, going to classes I don’t care about, looking for jobs that are designed to kill my will to live. That’s what you want for me?” She jerks her coat tight around her body. “I thought you wanted to take care of me. How is pushing me out into that cesspool of reality taking care of me?”

  The light at the crosswalk turns green and she starts to trot across 58th Street to the Plaza.

  Ben climbs out of the driver’s side and arches his eyebrows in silent query. I shrug and gesture for him to go park the car.

  “Where are we going?” I ask, catching up to her.

  “You said you were taking me home. I’m ready to go home.” She points upward in the direction of my aforementioned swanky two-story penthouse at the top of the Plaza Hotel.

  “I thought we were going to see your father.”

  She stops at the entrance of the Plaza. “I know that taking care of me is your privilege as my Daddy and I want that, but my father isn’t a bad man. He’s got questionable instincts and shitty parenting skills, but underneath all of the mess, he does love me.”

  My anger melts at her words. I don’t want to drive a wedge between her and her old man. I just want to protect her from all the bad shit that is out there. “I don’t want you to have burdens, baby girl. I want to shoulder those for you. You’re too precious to have to worry about anything.”

  She places a small hand on my chest and pushes up on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on my mouth. “That’s not realistic and I don’t want to live a fairy tale. I want a real life with you. I bet we’ll argue at times—and not the fake kind that I press so I can get a punishment, but actual disagreements where we’re going to have to compromise, but I’m okay with that because it’ll mean that our bond is strong enough to last forever after.”

  I cup a hand around her neck and kiss her harder, longer, and more fervently. I thought I was getting a plaything, but I’m really getting a partner. Willow might only be eighteen, but she’s perfect for me in every way. She’s strong enough to stand up to me and to know what she wants.

  Releasing her lips, I smooth the hair off her forehead. “Before Tim left, he reminded me I had one last present to buy. It’s a task I haven’t been able to complete yet, because the gift was for you. And, at the time, I couldn’t buy you what I really wanted to.”

  I kneel down on the snowy sidewalk, not caring that the slush is ruining my two-thousand dollar Tom Ford suit. Above me, Willow gasps. People stop in mid-stride and gawk at us.

  I reach into my pocket and pull out a velvet case, one that I’ve carried around since the day Willow turned eighteen. I knew then that I wanted to bind her to me forever. I’d just been in denial.

  I lift up her left hand and stare into her beautiful green eyes that are filled with moisture. I tug her closer to me so that there’s barely room between her body and mine. “For three years, I’ve told myself that you were off-limits,” I say softly so that the outsiders can’t hear. “For three years, I’ve lived a celibate life, only wanting you. When you turned eighteen, I tried to remind myself that you deserved a different life than one with me. But you came to my office, you spoke your own truth and deserve the same from me. I love you Willow Kaplan. I love you more than the zeros in my bank account, more than the next deal, more than my own life. I want to be your man from now until the seasons stop turning and the oceans empty out. If you say yes, I will devote my entire being to making you happy. Be my little girl forever.”

  She grabs the velvet box and throws herself into my arms. “Yes. Yes. Forever, yes! I love you, too!”

  The crowd around us cheers. Willow licks the top of my ear and whispers, “If you don’t take me upstairs to our new home right now and fuck me like the Daddy I know you are, the tourists are going to get an eyeful.”

  I lower her to the ground, pluck the box out of her hand and open it. She doesn’t even look at the five-carat rock I slide on her left finger.

  “The ring’s not even on your finger and you’re giving me instructions,” I mock.

  She presses her lips together pertly to give me an impudent close-mouthed smile.

  “I guess you’ll have to be punished for that.”

  The crowd titters, not having the first clue how serious I am.

  “I guess you’ll have to catch me first.” She whirls and starts running.

  I give her a head start, calling the doorman to let him know that he should let her up. After that, I call her father to let him know that I’m marrying his girl. He’s flabbergasted. I reel off a litany of instructions: he’s not to bother her with anything but emergencies; all requests shall be directed to my office; and I’m hiring him a personal assistant.

  Even though my baby can handle all of it, she shouldn’t have to. I’m her Daddy now, and there’s nothing I want more than to love, cherish and adore her forever. As I walk into the Plaza, fat snowflakes lazily land on my hair and shoulders.

  I look up at the new snow. It’s Christmas and I’ve received the best Christmas present ever. And if this the last present I ever get, I won’t care because I got the only one that matters.

  Epilogue

  Willow

  “Are you sure he’s not going to kill me?” Tim asks anxiously, trotting after me into Con’s office.

  “Trust me, he’ll be so happy I bet everyone will get a New Year’s bonus on top of their Christmas bonus.” For some reason, Tim is worried that Con will blame him for my plan, but I know exactly Con who will blame. My ass twitches in anticipation and I grin with greed at the thought my impending punishment. “Besides, don’t you want an early start on the holidays? I’m just giving everyone the day off. Now, do you remember what to do?”

  Tim nods. “Yup, lock the door behind and makes sure everyone knows Con has given the entire office a surprise comp day as a thank you for all their hard work during the past year.” He grimaced. “And get the hell out of here otherwise I may be scarred for life.”

  I giggle. “Hey, if you stick around you only have yourself to blame if you see or hear anything.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Kaplan,” he snarked and flipped me the bird. I stuck out my tongue in response. Who would have thought a year ago that Tim and I would be total
BFFs now? I guess it’s not a huge surprise since we both have Con’s best interests at heart. This is just our latest team-up in getting Con into the holiday spirit. Granted, Con has come a long way in his attitude towards Christmas but he can still be a bit Scrooge-like. He just needs a little reminder that holiday cheer should include his employees and that terrorizing them is bad for morale.

  “Alright, get out before Con gets here and the surprise is ruined.” I shove Tim towards the door.

  “Don’t worry, he called fifteen minutes ago and said his meeting was over and he’d be here in...” Tim checks his watch, “oh shit, in less than five minutes!” He races out and closes Con’s door after him.

  I remove my long Canada Goose down coat and hang it in Con’s closet and walk quickly to the washroom to see if I need any touch ups. My face is flushed with excitement but everything looks good. My hair is in a carefully messy updo and my make-up is natural— just enough mascara to darken my lashes, and a candy pink gloss gives my lips a sultry pop of color. I’m wearing a sheer white lace teddy that’s basically two panels of white lace held together with a red velvet ribbon tied into a bow right below my breasts. One quick tug on the ribbon and my breasts will spill out of the delicate lace cups. The look is complete with white thigh high stockings and 4 inch stiletto Mary Janes. Carefully I place the Santa cap on my head at a jaunty angle.

  “Alexa, play Santa Baby! on 3.” The sultry, throaty sound of Eartha Kitt fills the room and I perch on the edge of Con’s desk facing the door. I lean backwards a bit, arms braced behind me. The anticipation is killing me.

  Finally, I hear the outer door open and Con’s muffled voice before his office door opens. “…and Tim, has Willow called? I’ve been trying to reach her on her cell…” Con’s words trail off and he stops a foot inside the doorway, staring at me as I lounge on his desk.

  His beautiful blue eyes darken as they slowly run from the top of the Santa cap perched on my blonde hair, along my neck, stopping for a moment at my breasts displayed so provocatively. His inspection resumes, lingering again at the bow beneath my breasts before continuing downward, taking in every inch of my crossed legs. My sex pulses excitedly and my already damp panties grow wetter.

  Leisurely, I uncross my legs. Placing my pink-tipped fingers along my inner thighs, I spread wide, ensuring that my arousal-dampened panties are on full display. He stares at my pussy for a long, endless moment before he finally lifts his eyes back to mine. We are so entranced with each other that we barely notice Tim quickly closing the door behind Con and a definite click of the lock.

  “Santa Daddy, do you have a present for me? My stocking is so empty. I can promise you I’ve been a very naughty girl this year.” I bat my eyelashes.

  Con starts to loosen his tie as he takes his time crossing the room. He shrugs off his suit jacket and tosses it on the sofa, not taking his eyes off me the entire time.

  “I only have presents for nice little girls, not naughty ones,” he drawls. He stops right between my thighs, his hips forcing my legs apart even more.

  I pout. “Not even a piece of candy? I want to suck on something.”

  He smirks. “Well, I do have something that only a very, very naughty girl can suck on.” He starts to undo his belt and then stops. “Since this is the only present naughty girls get, why don’t you unwrap it yourself?”

  God, yes! Eagerly, I finish unbuckling and then scrabble with his zipper before I get it down far enough. Con is already huge—his cock practically leaps into my hand as I gently pull him out. The tip is wet with precum and I can’t wait to taste my treat.

  “How did you know that I adore candy canes,” I croon before bending my head and licking the bulging crown, tracing my tongue around the tiny slit as it wept even more tears at my touch. I lick it all up with light, teasing flicks against his shaft.

  He sweeps my hair to one side. “Santa Daddy enjoys watching his little girl suck his cock.”

  I run my cheek along the velvet covered steel until my nose brushes his groin. I inhale, filling my lungs with the precious, unique scent of his. “And this little girl loves the taste of her Daddy.”

  “Do you?” He threads his fingers through my hair. “Then show me.”

  I shiver with excitement, but I don’t want to give in—not just yet. I give his cockhead a thorough, open-tongued kiss before lifting his organ and tonguing the underside.

  He growls in warning which I ignore. I want more access to my delicious present so I push Con’s pants further down, revealing his strong, muscular thighs. I re-acquaint myself with the tiny mole on the his inside left thigh, giving it a small peck. I place light caresses on his ball sack and the super sensitive patch of skin right behind the testicles.

  The hand in my hair grows tighter. “Don’t tease me, girl.” The low-throated menace in his voice sends a thrill through my body.

  Again, I disregard his warning. I take my time tonguing the bulging veins in his cock, wetting the shaft with my saliva. My hand joins the party to add featherweight pets. His cock bobs and stiffens as I dance my tongue over every square inch, never letting up but never giving him the full satisfaction he craves.

  Even though I know it’s coming, the hard jerk on my hair surprises me. The Santa hat goes tumbling to the floor as his hands bury themselves in my updo. Eyes watering, I peer up at him. The skin is stretched tight across his cheekbones and his blue eyes glitter with angry desire.

  “Fucking open your mouth and suck me hard, girl, or you won’t get to touch Daddy for a week.”

  My jaw drops. “A week?” I’d never survive. I wiggle my ass. “I thought my punishment is a spanking.” I love spankings. I try to get one every day if I can. The mere thought of his palm striking my flesh makes me wet. Life with Con is murder on a pair of panties. I’m always walking around damp between my legs—either from my own arousal or because he’s just eaten me out. He says he can’t survive a day without a serving of his honey girl.

  “Spanking isn’t punishment for you,” he observes grimly. He tugs my hair back so far that my neck aches from the angle. “The only real penalty is to not have access to my cock. Is that what you want?”

  Alarm spikes through me even as my panties floods with arousal. “But, Daddy, withholding your cock from me would hurt you, too.”

  “If I have to go without to teach you a lesson, then so be it.” His hands drops away from my hair and moves to tuck himself back in his pants.

  I slide forward off the desk and drop to my knees, knocking his hands away. “No. No. I want you, Daddy. Give me another chance and I’ll show you how much I want you.”

  His hands fall back to his side. “One more chance, then, baby girl or I’ll have to give you real discipline.” He maneuvers until he’s the one leaning against the desk as I kneel before him. He arches a brow arrogantly, commanding me with a stern look.

  I quiver and apply myself, taking him in all the way until the cockhead hits the back of my throat. He grunts his approval and palms my neck, silently telling me he wants me to swallow him down as I’ve learned to do this past year. I take a deep breath and breathe through my nose as he slowly enters my tight passage until my lips can kiss the base of his cock.

  I catch a glimpse of us in the plate glass window of his high-rise office. The sight of us takes my breath away. There I am on my knees in my white teddy with my breasts straining obscenely against the lace. My high heels press into my butt cheeks.

  Con leans decadently against his office desk, one hand bracing himself against the dark wood, the other hand fisting my hair into a ponytail. He’s fully dressed—only his pants are unzipped. The scene is pornographic and beautiful.

  Slowly, cautiously, he withdraws. “That’s my darling girl.” He rubs his thumb across my cheek. “Now I’m going to fill that hot needy cunt of yours.”

  “Yes, fill me with your come.” I nod eagerly.

  “I will.” He swoops down and lifts me into his arms and throws me onto the sofa—one that’s al
ready been recovered a half dozen times this year. He tears at his clothes. Buttons ping against the paneled walls. Shoes go flying. Clothes are flung over his shoulder and then it’s my turn to be attacked. His fingers curl around the red bow and gives it a tug.

  My breasts spill out, decadent mounds begging for his touch.

  “Your tits look bigger,” he observes. He palms them and bounces them lightly in his hand. “Heavier, too.”

  I swallow a secretive smile. “They need kisses,” I tell him.

  He kneels beside the sofa and softly tongues one tender nipple and then the other. He plays with me, paying me back for my earlier teasing. I shift restlessly on the sofa. “Con, stop toying with me. I need you.”

  “Show me where,” he orders, his mouth still around one breast.

  I shove my hand between my legs. “Here. I ache here. Make the hurt go away.” I push out my lower lip in a pout.

  He places a kiss on the inside of my elbow. “Is it here that it hurts?”

  I shake my head. “Lower.”

  He moves to my wrist, holding it by my belly. “Here?”

  His hot breath washes against my throbbing pussy. I push my hips up. “No, lower.”

  He scoots down a fraction of an inch. “I don’t see any signs of injury,” he observes.

  This is my punishment for not blowing him like I should’ve. This is what I get for all my sass. One of these days I’m going to learn my lesson. I’m going to spend a lifetime learning. Wriggling, I try to position my body so that his mouth is right where I want it, but the maddening man backs up.

  “Con,” I wail. “If you don’t fuck me in the next ten seconds, I’m going to explode.”

  “Well, we can’t have that.” He levers himself over me, spreads my lips with one hand and pierces me in one sharp movement. The invasion is expected yet still shocks me. The way he possesses me when he fucks never fails to thrill. With every stroke, he claims me anew.

  He knows—has always known—where to press and push and plunge with the exact right pressure.