Santa’s Naughty Elf: A Santa’s Coming Short Story

by Lorraine, Tracy

  Thank fuck I went for a special Christmas waxing session, is the last thing I think before his tongue is on me. He’s light and teasing, and in mere seconds I’m moaning for more. My fingers find their way into his hair and I tug to keep him in place.

  When he moans, I feel the vibrations right to my fingertips. Holy shit, I’m about to come on my boss’s desk, I think seconds before he slides his finger inside me and I go off like a rocket. Pleasure races through me and I’m twitching around him for long minutes as I ride out the first orgasm that hasn’t been provided via my own hands for a very long time.

  “I was wrong,” he says once he’s wiped his mouth and stood up. He’s staring down at me with dark, hungry eyes, and I panic. Still sitting, I go to push myself from the desk, keeping my eyes down as shame races through me at what I’ve just allowed him to do.

  “Where are you going?”

  Ignoring his question, I try to push past him, but he’s having none of it. His hands land on my shoulders, forcing me back. His eyes bore into mine, and I struggle to swallow down my anxiety.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Leaving. You just said—”

  “I didn’t say a fucking thing about you leaving.”

  “You said you were wrong—”

  “Yeah, I was wrong.” His fingers press down on my lips to stop me from responding. “You taste so much sweeter than I imagined.”

  “Oh!”

  No more words are said between us as he gently pushes me back to the desk again, grabs a condom from fuck knows where, and lines up with my entrance.

  He stares down at me as he slowly presses inside me, and suddenly this seems like more than some sleazy office hook-up. I can see something in his eyes telling me it’s very different. It excites and scares me in equal measures.

  Deciding I’m imagining it, I close my eyes and focus on the feeling of him moving inside me.

  “Open your eyes,” he barks, and just like every time he asks me to do something, my eyelids spring open. “I want to see what I’m doing to you.”

  I want to look away because the way he’s staring down at me right now makes it feel like he can see deep into my soul. It’s unnerving and something I was quite intent on not feeling for a while. I like my life as it is right now. I might have been fantasising about what he might be like, but it was just that—a fantasy. I haven’t had any interest in having a boyfriend for quite a while.

  Eventually, it gets to be too much and I have to break the connection between us. With darkness surrounding me, I can focus on the sensations he’s causing within me as he increases his pace.

  Before long, the only sounds that can be heard are our panting breaths and the meeting of our skin as he pounds into me, forcing me ever closer to my release…and the end of our time together.

  “Shit. Fuck,” he grunts, his fingers digging into my hips, keeping me in place.

  He moves with precision, hitting the perfect spot each time. It’s like we’ve done this a million times before.

  White light flashes behind my eyes as my orgasm slams into me. My back arches off the desk as I convulse around him. It goes on and on, a reminder of what can be achieved with a real person and not just a battery-operated toy.

  I’m just coming down from my high when I hear a growl come from the back of Jordan’s throat. I open my eyes just in time to watch as his pleasure courses through him. I’ve always thought he was beautiful to look at, but as I lie here staring up at him with his muscles pulled tight and his eyes closed, I can’t help but think there’s much more to my dickhead of a boss.

  His eyes sparkle when his lids flutter open and he looks down at me with complete awe.

  “Fuck. I needed that,” he says, pulling out.

  My heart jumps into my throat. Was that all this was about? He needed a quick fuck, and I was the easiest woman to call upon?

  A lump the size of a football lodges itself in my throat as tears begin to burn the backs of my eyes, the level of my stupidity starting to sit heavily in my stomach.

  What the fuck did I just do?

  “That was…” His words fade out as he watches me jump up from the desk and rush to collect my clothes, still in a crumpled mess on the floor.

  Foregoing my underwear, I step into my dress and pull it up my flushed skin.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I think it’s best if I go now. Don’t you?” I whisper around the lump, but it comes out so quiet I’m not sure he can hear.

  “At least take your present.” I swear I hear a dejected tone to his voice, but I don’t allow myself to worry about him. Right now, I need to take care of myself, and the first thing I need to do is get away from here—from him.

  With my underwear balled up in my hand, I step towards the door and go to reach for the handle.

  “Here,” he says. A small wrapped present appears in front of me. “Merry Christmas.”

  I take the gift from him and run from the office. I feel his stare all the way to the lift. Thankfully, it’s still on this floor and the doors are opening in seconds.

  I tell myself to keep my back to him. To focus on getting away. But at the very last minute, I look over my shoulder. Our eyes connect and hold, and I see everything I’m feeling reflected back at me until the doors put an end to our moment.

  Blowing out a breath, I place my hands on my knees and just breathe for a full minute. My heart is racing wildly. Whether that’s from my little sprint to get here or the activity before, I’m not sure.

  By the time the doors open in the lobby, I have my shoes on, and I’ve attempted to smooth out my hair. I need to get out of here and not cause a scene with my disheveled appearance.

  Luck must be on my side because as I step from the building, a taxi pulls up. I jump in before he has a chance to change his mind, give the driver my address, sit back, and attempt to relax.

  Staring down at the little box in my hand, regret knots in my stomach. I love working there and I love my colleagues, but I can’t help thinking I’ve just ruined everything I’ve worked so hard for.

  And for what? A few minutes of pleasure with the beautiful arsehole I call my boss?

  I pluck the card from the ribbon and turn it over to read the words. It was obvious from the second I walked into his office that he was this year’s Santa, but what I wasn’t expecting was for this gift to be from him—for him to be my Secret Santa.

  Part of me wants to shove it in my handbag and forget about it, but realistically, I know that’s never going to happen. So, I gingerly pull at the ribbon holding around the box.

  My chin drops when I reveal a light blue Tiffany & Co. box. My hands tremble as I think about him blowing the £50 rule. But that is nothing compared to when I pull the lid off and reveal the contents. My breath catches in my throat with the sight of the stunning, simple diamond pendant staring back at me. It’s gorgeous, and exactly the kind of thing I wear.

  By the time the taxi pulls up outside my building, I’m more confused than ever by his behaviour. When I walked out of his office, I was convinced that what happened between us was just his way of blowing off steam. But this gift—it’s so thoughtful and extravagant. Did I get all of that wrong?

  I hardly got a wink of sleep as I replayed every second of the night before in my mind, trying to figure out what the hell happened and how I went from working late to being flat on my back on his desk.

  The phone call from Victoria demanding to know where I’d disappeared to didn’t help much either. She rang, still drunk, wanting to know every detail. I wasn’t telling her a thing, but her imagination ran away with itself and it was surprisingly close to the truth. If I didn’t know better, I would have said she followed me and watched it all play out.

  I left London as soon as I could this morning, deciding the more space between us the better. I’ve no idea what his Christmas plans were; we’ve never talked about our private lives. The only sides of Jordan I know are the dickhead, and now the sex god.
>
  Groaning to myself, I focus on the countryside surrounding me as I drive towards my childhood home. Farm Valley is what we all called it as kids, and it couldn’t be farther from the truth. Last night’s hard frost has turned everything white and it looks like it could be a scene for a Christmas card.

  Once inside my parents' house, it’s like life on the outside no longer exists. There are people, chatter, and laughter everywhere, and I can’t help but smile. While I couldn’t get away from here fast enough a few years ago, it’s always nice to be home, surrounded by the people I love.

  Kids laugh and play, and Mum, Grandma, and Auntie Lyn faff about in the kitchen getting tomorrow’s feast prepared. Dad and Uncle Harry watch some old black-and-white film on the TV, and I allow myself to get lost in a book. It’s been a long time since I’ve had the time to read more than a few pages, but being here, sitting in my parents’ bay window and looking out over the fields, I can push everything away. For now, at least.

  * * *

  Christmas Day at my parents’ house is run like a military operation. We’ve got too big a family for it to work any other way. We have a giant table set up for the adults as well as a smaller one—but an exact replica—for the kids.

  We’re all allowed to open two presents before dinner. Everything else must be kept until we’ve eaten. I’ve no idea why, or who came up with the rule, but it’s what it is, every single year.

  “Fifteen minutes until dinner,” Mum calls from the kitchen. I put my book down and head towards the sound of her voice to see if there’s anything I can do to help. I already know I’ll be turned away, but every year I offer.

  We’ve all just sat down and are about to pull the crackers when the doorbell rings. Everyone looks at each other with confusion etched on their faces. Everyone we know is pretty much sat around this table.

  After a stern look from my mum, Dad eventually pushes his chair out and we all watch in silence as he disappears towards the front door.

  There’s a rumble of voices before Dad calls out, “Cerys, it’s for you.”

  My brows draw together, wondering who the hell would want me here on Christmas Day. Yeah, I have friends here, but they’ll all be celebrating with their families right now, too.

  Pushing my chair out, I walk the same way Dad did not so long ago, feeling the burning stares of my family as I go.

  My eyes almost pop out of my head as I round the corner, my eyes landing on the last person I expect to see standing on my parents’ doorstep.

  “Cerys.” Jordan’s deep voice hits me like a baseball bat to the chest.

  “I’ll…uh…leave you to it,” Dad says, looking between the two of us before retreating back towards the dining room.

  “What are you doing here?” I don’t mean to sound so harsh.

  “Going after what I want for Christmas.” His warm fingers slide around the back of my neck and he pulls me towards him. “Merry Christmas, Cerys,” he whispers, his lips brushing over mine. His other hand snakes around my waist and before I know what’s happening, I’m pressed up against his hard body with his lips against mine.

  I sigh as his tongue dances with mine and I’m taken right back to that night a few days ago when he first kissed me. I’d tried to forget about how right it felt being in his arms.

  Tilting my head to the side, he deepens the kiss and my hands slip inside his coat, holding him as tightly as he is me.

  We’re both breathless when he pulls back and rests his forehead against mine. Dragging my eyelids open, I find his sparkling green eyes staring back at me. Swallowing down the emotions that are threatening to bubble up, I focus on the few words he’s said to me.

  “You called me Cerys.”

  “Well, yeah. It’s your name.” The smile that lights up his face has my heart soaring.

  “You always call me Kerry.”

  “I like the fire that burns through you every time I do.”

  Pulling back, I run my eyes over him like it’s the first time I’m truly seeing him. As I drop my gaze to his chest, I realise it might be just that, because for the first time ever, he’s not in a suit and I’m staring at my boss in a casual shirt and a dark pair of jeans. He looks just as hot and delicious.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I already told you. I’ve come for my—”

  “Seriously, Jordan. Spell it out for me because I’d hate to misunderstand this.”

  “I. Came. For. You.” He kisses me between each word before he astounds me with his final statement. “I think you’re the one.”

  Thank God he’s still got his arm around my waist because I think I’d have hit the floor otherwise.

  “Why do you look so surprised?”

  “I didn’t think you liked me,” I admit.

  “I like you very much. Some might say too much given our circumstances.”

  “Cerys, are you coming to eat? The turkey’s getting cold,” Mum calls.

  I look into the house and then back at Jordan, a little unsure of what to do. “Do you want to…”

  “I haven’t driven all this way not to be invited in.”

  “Okay. I should warn you though, my family’s a little…insane.”

  “I’m sure they’re lovely.”

  The second we step foot in the dining room, every set of eyes turn our way. “Everyone, this is Jordan. Jordan, this is everyone.”

  “Jordan?” Mum asks, her eyes narrowed as she studies him, and I wait for the penny to drop. I pretty much tell my mum everything, so she knows all about my dickhead boss and my totally inappropriate crush on him. “Oh, the horrible boss,” she says with a laugh. Fair play to Jordan because he doesn’t even flinch. “Come and join us. The more the merrier.”

  Dad gets up after receiving a stern word from Mum about finding another chair. In minutes, everyone has squished up a little and another place has been laid next to mine. I have the most surreal Christmas dinner of my life, with my boss’s hand resting on my thigh the entire time.

  One Year Later…

  “Merry Christmas,” Jordan says, propping himself up on his elbow and staring down at me.

  “Merry Christmas.”

  His lips come down on mine as his hand disappears under the duvet. Tingles follow his movement as he tickles over my breasts, circles my belly button before dipping down between my legs and making me sigh with pleasure. “My parents will be up already,” I groan, not wanting to stop him, but also not wanting my parents to know we’re having a morning quickie.

  “So? I can be quiet. Can you?” His eyes hold a challenge that he knows I won’t be able to refuse.

  We spent every second of last Christmas together after he showed up at my parents’ front door. He instantly fit in like he’s spent every holiday there, and my mum spent the whole time trying to drag the details out of me about what happened. I had every intention of telling her the very basics, but I was having too much fun making her guess.

  We celebrated the New Year together in his flat back in London, and we returned to work almost as if nothing had changed between us.

  In reality everything had changed. My dickhead boss was now not only that but also my boyfriend. It was a weird adjustment, but by the time Valentine’s Day came around, so did an entire office full of red roses, and it was obvious our secret office romance was no more as every woman in the building looked at me with jealousy glazing over their eyes.

  By some miracle, it turns out that we work even more efficiently together, and now when he pisses me off with his demanding dickhead attitude I can just take it out on him in the bedroom instead of wishing I had a little voodoo doll to poke pins into.

  I didn’t even have to ask him if he was okay returning to my parents’ house for Christmas this year. Much to my surprise, he’d already arranged it with my mum, so the second we finished work yesterday we hit the road. It seems my city boy likes the countryside almost as much as I do—in small doses, anyway.

  “All right, everyone, present ti
me,” Mum says excitedly, directing all the kids to sit around the Christmas tree.

  Everyone settles in the same seat they do each year. The only difference is that Jordan squeezes into my usual chair with me.

  “Cerys, this one’s for you,” my niece says, handing me a little red present. The wrapping is very familiar to a gift I received last year. Excitement fills me as I wonder what he could have chosen. Not a day has gone by since I opened that necklace that it’s not been hanging around my neck.

  I pull the ribbon off, followed by the paper. I feel Jordan shift beside me. Pulling the lid from the little blue box, my breath catches in my throat. I glance up, realising that not only am I alone on the chair, but Jordan’s on the floor…on one knee.

  My surroundings vanish as I stare into his green eyes, my own filling with tears.

  “Cerys, I knew the day I saw you sitting behind your desk that you were special. I knew you weren’t going to take my bullshit and that you were going to challenge me every day. Not only did you do that, but you also teased me relentlessly. I was in love with you a long time before I ever told you, but it’s time for the world to know what you mean to me. Cerys Winters, will you do me the greatest honour of being my wife?”

  My eyes break from his as I look down at the giant diamond sitting in the Tiffany & Co. box in my hand.

  “Yes! Yes, a million times, yes.”

  I’m vaguely aware of cheers and cries of delight around me, but my only focus is Jordan as he pulls me to him and kisses me deeper than he ever has before.

  I can’t believe I’m at the end of another book again already. I guess the main person to thank for this one, is you. If it wasn’t for our readers making our Thanksgiving series such a success, this one might not have happened. I hope you enjoy all the quick and steamy Christmas reads as well.

  As always, I want to say a huge thank you to the little team I have around me for helping to make all of this a possibility.