Page 129 of Santa Daddies

A low hum of anticipation was his only response at first.

Then, a breathed “Holy holly.”

As always happened when he talked dirty to me, my nipples peaked under the fabric of my dress and my pussy came alive, throbbing in wait.

Licking my lips, I moved my hands upward to his waistband and shoved his pants down. Over his hips and his engorged cock, past his candy-cane-striped boxers. Down past his knees to rest at the top of his iconic black boots.

“Santa Daddy.” I gave a cheeky grin as I stared up at him.

“That’s my name, but I’d rather hear you screaming it.”

“I think that can be arranged.” I parted the silky fabric of his boxer briefs, freeing his cock. My mouth watered at the thought of the taste of him, a distinct blend of peppermint and eggnog.

Opening my mouth, parting my lips ever so slightly, I wrapped my right hand around his cock and slid my left hand up his rock-hard abs to rest on his belly. Then I exhaled deeply and took his cockhead between my lips. His sweetness filled my senses. Every breath assaulted my nostrils with the freshness of peppermint. I’d always loved peppermint, and since meeting my Santa Daddy, I’d come to love it even more.

I licked my tongue all around his tip. He moaned and it vibrated through my core, making me want more as my pussy grew slick with my need for him.

I swallowed him deeper, like I was licking a candy cane in a contest to see who could suck it down faster. After a minute I slowed down, stroking him with my hand while I pleasured him with my mouth.

He widened his stance and folded his hands behind his head, jutting out his hips, thrusting deeper into my mouth as he settled in to enjoy.

I went to town, humming Christmas carols in my head while I worked to a perfect rhythm. His moans got deeper, his thrusts more frantic. I could feel his chest heaving beneath my fingers. Finally he stepped away, leaving me bereft with the taste of peppermint lingering on my tongue and reached down, taking my hands as he helped me to my feet and pressed my body to his.

“Oh babygirl,” he hummed. “Deck my balls, you take me so good.”

He kissed me deeply, then licked his lips and smiled. “Hmmm. Minty.” He chuckled deeply, then bent at the waist, and hooked his hands under my back and scooped me into his arms, carrying me bridal-style to the bedroom, where he all but tossed me onto the center of the bed, before stripping off his clothes and crawling over the top of me, his arms on either side of my body, caging me in.

His dominant nature—something I’d never thought I wanted, until I met him—never failed to take my breath away, and I gasped when he literally poofed my clothes off of me. For all the time and care I’d taken into picking and creating something sexy, it just disappeared, leaving me naked and vulnerable under his heated gaze.

For a moment, I wanted to be peeved at him, and then he smiled at me, the heat in his eyes melting me into a pile of goo, until he finally spoke the words I’d been needing to hear. “Happy Anniversary of the most important day of my life.”

That sentence warmed my soul and soothed my anger-frayed nerves. I closed my eyes when he leaned down to rest his forehead against mine and I knew we were both taking a moment to remember that fateful night, when he’d poofed his way into my apartment, with me ass-up over his lap and started spanking me while carrying on about the naughty list and unbelievers. And somehow, he’d stolen my heart. Maybe not that day, but in the days that followed.

I was so caught up in the memory, I barely noticed when his forehead left mine and his body slowly eased down mine, uncaging my top half as he moved to position himself with his head between my legs.

My eyes popped open to meet his and a shudder of anticipation weaved down my spine. “Daddy,” I whimpered.

He opened his mouth, and closed it over the top of my mound, his tongue licking down my slit, and up again until he reached my clit and sucked it gently between his lips.

“Oh god!” I gasped, my fingers curling to clutch the bedcovers.

“Not God.” He pulled away just long enough to answer me with a mischievous smile. “Santa. And Santa Daddy to you.”

Yule

As I looked in my babygirl's eyes, her sweet pussy just millimeters away from my tongue, all the stress of the season melted away, and I couldn’t think of anything but her and the events that brought us together.

All I wanted, all I needed, all I craved, was her. Her mouth, her pussy, her pleasure, just her. My babygirl hadn’t asked for this, for any of it, but she’d embraced it all for me, and I knew it was hard on her sometimes, especially right now when my attention was constantly being pulled in five thousand different directions at any given moment. Tonight would be the last night for weeks I would be able to make it home to spend time with her. I intended to make the most of it and savor every minute, to make it a night we would both remember just as vividly as the night we first met.

With that goal in mind, I went to work, fucking her tight hole with my finger while I lapped her juices with my tongue, brining her to the brink of orgasm and dragging her back again. And again, and again, and again. And just when I was about to explode, when my spine was rigid and my balls were aching with neglect, she let out a stifled scream, and gripped the sides of my head, forcing it up.

“Santa! Daddy!” she all but shrieked.

I met her frantic gaze, my expression full of mirth. “Yes, my love?”

“Jingle balls!” She arched her back up, as if chasing the same pleasure she’d pulled away from. “I’m gonna twist your tinsel if you don’t…”

“If I don’t what?” I murmured, licking her slit without moving my head, watching her expression as her eyes closed in orgasmic rapture, quickly replaced with frantic need.