Page 5 of Santa Daddies

Warmth pooled in my stomach. At least Madeline didn’t know about my daddy kink.

Chapter Two

Kristoffer

I was in a fucking mood. And that made having to play Santa for the night feel like a chore, which only pissed me off more because Sexy Santa Inc was my baby. It padded the coffers for so many local Christmas children’s charities and being involved in it was rewarding and fun. And because of that I’d never minded being called in to play Santa before when one of my regular Santas was sick.

But here I was, miserable about it.

My current mood was sponsored by my ex-girlfriend, who’d shown up at my door twenty minutes before I had to leave, begging for forgiveness. I’d cursed myself for not telling the doorman we’d broken up, therefore not reneging her permission to go up to my condo unannounced.

“It was a mistake, Kristoffer. It didn’t mean anything,” she’d pled while pressing her model body against mine, rubbing against me like a cat, but nice tits and ass that had been bouncing up and down for someone else, someone that wassupposed to be my friend, did nothing for me. And truthfully, I was getting tired of tits and ass that had nothing else going for it.

“You need to leave, Clara. I’ve got things to do,” I’d told her.

“Baby, just give me another chance.” Her pout had been as fake as the lips that wore it and it had made my gut turn sour. It was as if a spell had been lifted and I could suddenly see the truth of the woman that stood before me.

“An accident, baby,” she’d said as if it were a completely normal thing to accidentally fall onto another man’s dick after being with me for two years. And not just once, either. She fell on my supposed friend’s dick repeatedly for two fucking months.

I’d moved toward her, putting my body in the frame of the door so hers wouldn’t be. “Busy. Got a show. Buh-bye.” And I’d stepped back and shut the door. But dammit, her Jimmy Choos had stopped me.

“That stupid Santa gig?” she’d scoffed, changing tactics. “You’re practically a dick dancer.” She’d glowered, but it had been barely discernible with all the filler in her lips. “It’s like you’ve been cheating on me.” I’d seen the idea take root in her brain and sure enough she’d said, “I did this to show you how I feel about you letting women sit on your lap, dancing for them and wearing skimpy outfits while they take shots off your body.”

“They sit on my lap, not my cock. But thanks for your opinion, Clara. I’ll take it under advisement.” I’d looked purposefully at her foot in the door. “Have a good evening.”

“Don’t be an asshole, Kristoffer. I made a mistake, and I’ve apologized.” She’d reached through the door running her hand down my chest. “Let’s make up, baby.” Her tone had been too saccharine.

“Do I have to call the cops, Clara?”

One of her sculpted brows had arched and it sharpened her face. “Officer Nasty calls the cops?” She’d rolled her eyes whenI kept my face purposely blank, but I got the Peter Griffin reference. “Whatever Kris, I’m leaving, but you’ll regret it.”

“Uh-huh. Thanks for dropping by.”

I’d barely gotten rid of her in time, so I’d thrown on my suit and left. The doorman had called me an Uber, but that guy had been late, too, which made my mood plummet further. I despised being late. It was my biggest pet peeve. I hadn’t gotten where I was in life by showing up late for things.

And then there was the rain that had started as soon as the car pulled up at the event entrance of the hotel. Because of course it had to be raining, I was in Vancouver. My mood went from sour to foul as the pouring rain had soaked my Santa suit in the twenty feet it took to get into the venue.

Which is how I got to be here, standing inside the inn, soaking wet and miserable. Pulling out my phone as I ducked into the back hallway near the room where we’d be performing, I started to dial my spare Santa. There was just no way I was going to pull this off in my current mood. No one wanted a sour Santa.

I wasn’t due on stage for another half hour, and Daryl wasn’t far. The event was in a small trendy inn downtown with an event space that only held fifty people. We earned the same amount of money no matter the size of the group, so I didn’t turn any group away. But the ladies always tipped and most of the guys kept their tips. I considered the size of tonight’s group, which was under twenty women, and the last-minute bullshit I was about to pull on Daryl and sighed. I may be an asshole, but I wasn’t that kind of asshole. I clicked the power button on my phone and the screen turned black.

“Put on a happy face, Kristoffer, this is for charity,” I coached myself as I walked down the hallway toward a room they’d set aside for us to change.

I’d started Sexy Santa Inc six years ago to help raise money for various children’s Christmas charities because I was a hugebeliever in giving to groups that provided Christmas hope to kids no matter their circumstances, whether that be poverty, grief or illness.

It had taken off and done so well that we’d been featured on CTV Morning Live for the last three years. And we’d already helped more than a hundred charities surpass their goals for the season with four more gigs to go, although this would be my last one of the year. Every one of the men that volunteered for Sexy Santa Inc did it because they believed in it and I certainly wasn’t about to let them down because Clara couldn’t keep her goddamn legs closed and it had started a snowball effect that destroyed my mood, possibly for the rest of my fucking life.

“Hey,” I said, grabbing the attention of a man moving down the hall with a laundry cart. “Any chance you could throw my suit in the dryer for a few minutes?”

He looked me up and down and smiled. “You’re from Sexy Santa Inc?” he asked in a heavy Eastern European accent I couldn’t fully place.

I nodded.

“You have something else to wear in the meantime?”

I pointed at the change room. “I can wait in there.”

“Naked?”