Forbidden Santa Page 5

  Stuart’s strong arms snake around me, and he draws me back against his warm chest. I melt into him and exhale, getting so loose and comfortable now.

  “What did you do today?” he wonders. “While I was gone?”

  I purse my lips and lift my chin. I don’t want to look like a little baby girl to him. “I went out for a little while, and I made a friend. A woman named Cheryl. She’s been coming here for twelve years, and she met her husband here.” I exhale and let my head fall back on his shoulder, deciding to tell him the truth. He can probably already guess. “That made me feel a little better, at least.”

  “Making a friend?”

  “Knowing that someone here actually met their husband.” I swing my eyes up to Stuart. I’m really enjoying all of this—the tree, the lights, the fire—but it’s just an illusion. “It seems like the kind of a place that only exists for a few weekends out of the year, the kind of place where nothing matters, and no one is an actual person.”

  “That’s not why I invited you here,” Stuart says. “You know that.”

  “Do I?” I shrug. “Okay.” I force a smile, even though I might be a fool who gave up her virginity to a sexy man who might as well have been a stranger.

  “I have something that I want to show you.”

  Stuart shifts away from me, and I twist toward him, furrowing my brow as he roots in his linen pants for something. The pockets are deep, and I didn’t notice the bulge before but he pulls out a black velvet ring box. What the heck?

  “What are you doing?” I demand to know.

  This can’t be what it looks like… but Stuart descends to one knee and my fingers fly to my lips. The black velvet ring box pops open and there’s a fat diamond ring sparkling inside. It’s surreal.

  “Rose Parsons, will you marry me?” he asks, and I burst out laughing in his face. I can’t help it—I’m so shocked! What could he possibly be thinking?

  I know I’ve been weird about losing my virginity before marriage… but that doesn’t mean we need to rush and get married, either.

  “Very nice,” Stuart says, flatly. “Laugh it up.”

  “Oh, god, I’m sorry,” I say, covering my mouth so that he won’t be able to see how I can’t stop smiling. I just can’t believe him. “You took me by surprise. That’s all.”

  “I know that you want to predicate sex on an important relationship,” Stuart explains to me. “Inviting you here may have been a mistake on my part. Maybe it gave you the wrong kind of idea for my intentions. I don’t just want you in the bedroom, Rose. I want you everywhere. I want you with me. For as long as you’ll stay.”

  I smile softly, and my hands slip from my lips. “You don’t even know me.”

  “I know a lot more than you think.”

  He goes on to tell me my entire history, as if we stayed up all night talking. He knows about my biological parents. He knows about my adoptive parents. He even knows about my grades and my extracurricular activities.

  “You’re kind, hard-working, and a woman of true principle,” Stuart tells me, eyes shining hard on me. “It’s not just because you’re beautiful, although I have also never seen a more beautiful woman. It’s also you. I just want you.”

  “How did you know all that stuff about me?” I have to know.

  “My security team pulls a bio on everyone,” he explains. “But yours was special. You’re special.”

  Tentatively, I pull the ring from its black velvet box and examine that chunky thing. It’s mind-boggling, and I want to slip it on but I don’t want to give him the wrong idea. There’s no way I can just marry him like that. I’m still in college. He’s a freaking billionaire. And maybe he does know me—but I don’t really know him. Not yet.

  “Look, Stuart…” I let the ring travel up my finger and hold my hand at a distance, admiring how the stone twinkles. I do feel—precious. Claimed. But I can’t settle for that. I have to claim him, as well, and I just can’t. Not yet. “I need to know that what is happening here isn’t just a weekend fling with a girl you know. But I don’t need to get married. Not right now, anyway. It would be nice to feel like I almost waited, since you’d be my fiancé, but it’s still too soon.”

  “Then keep the ring and I’ll make you a promise,” Stuart says, lacing his fingers through mine and tugging me back against his chest. “If you’ll have me, I will marry you someday.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Stuart

  Rose Parsons looks different to me with that gleaming ring on her finger. The change is immediate and almost transformative. Rose Goldman. The name sings to me, like destiny, and I grasp her jeweled hand in mine, threading our fingers together.

  "We don't have to make any decisions now," I say. "But I do want you, Rose." I lose myself in those big, innocent fawn eyes, and then my gaze flashes naturally down to her shapely pink lips. "More than a weekend," I go on. I roll the golden band back and forth on her finger, mesmerized by it. "More than words can say."

  I scoop her up into my lap and she giggles and shrieks, startled by the sudden motion. Her white silk negligee falls open at the crux of her thighs and she straddles me, the sleek material falling to either side.

  “I want you, too,” she whispers. “More than words.”

  I’m inside her in an instant, folding flat back onto the floor. Her body undulates in the two-toned firelight, that filmy negligee leaving only the perfect amount to the imagination, and she rides me slowly. I grasp her hips and guide her, relishing the obvious fact that I’m the first man she’s ridden like this.

  “Good girl,” I tell her, hiking up the hem of her negligee to expose her ass. I need someplace I can get a solid grip.

  The speed of our progress is mind-boggling… I’ve only been inside her for a matter of seconds, maybe minutes now, but I already feel close. Her walls milk me, almost vibrate around my shaft. Dear God, she is perfect. She bounces back and forth on my dick and her top comes loose, nipples bouncing out for me to tweak and roll.

  My abdomen crawls with the heat and weight of an oncoming orgasm and perhaps Rose senses it, because she plants her hands on either side of my head and starts working harder toward my end.

  “I want to marry you,” I growl, burying myself inside her to the hilt. Her muscles shudder around me and tighten; I know we’re both close. She’s going to have to take this full load.

  Her hair rolls around on her neck like she’s having some kind of spiritual vision. I squeeze her tits and run my hands down her shapely torso, gathering at her ass and helping her get a deep stroke going. Her breath comes in deep, low rasps and her eyes are closed. “Fuck, yeah,” she groans. “I could do this forever, Stuart.”

  She says my name with a little twist of pleasure-pain and thunder rolls in my abdomen. Shit, that was it. That was enough. I’m going off like a spring inside her, and the room around us unravels. Everything goes dark and my seed rages into her. Fuck, yeah, she better be my wife… because she’s about to be the mother of my children.

  Chapter Twelve

  Rose

  The massive beach house—a beach mansion, really—glimmers through the window at me. I can’t believe I’m here, and now I’m going to this… wild orgy of the elites. Fake snow flurries around the roof, and the valets wear elf ears. Large, decorative boxes of Christmas presents scatter at the base of the estate. And guests pour along the beach toward the venue.

  I smooth out my translucent white shift. I wear a bra and panties with it but they’re the only things keeping my privates from being totally visible. This dress is a joke, as sheer as panty hose.

  “You look amazing,” Stuart purrs against my ear. One of his hands scoops around to my midsection while the other braces my hip, fitting me neatly against his groin. Ooh la la. Someone’s already packing heat.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “But I think I love that rock on your finger most of all.”

  I smile bashfully up at Stuart, who is naturally stunning in his pure black suit and silver fili
greed mask. The pure blackness and the hints of silver in his hair only make the combination more stunning. I’d believe that he stepped out of a high fashion ad if I didn’t know any better. Maybe Gucci makes Halloween costumes. You never know.

  “Are you ready to do this?” he asks, and I feel the weight of my white porcelain mask slip over my face. It only fits over my eyes and the bridge of my nose, and the delicate glass is embellished with hints of baby blue spirals and sprigs. In that moment, catching my own reflection in the window pane, I lose my breath.

  I do look amazing. A strange rush passes through my body.

  I’ve never been the type of girl to show herself off. In spite of my tight figure, with the long trunk and the high breasts and trim, muscular legs, I like to wear layers. I was just born this way. That doesn’t mean I want to parade around in gowns that are practically made of tissue.

  Except here I am.

  My heart pounds faster at the prospect. I swallow, and my nipples gather beneath the material of my gown, puckering at the fabric.

  “I’m ready,” I breathe. And this little part of me wants everyone there to take a good long look at this tight little ass.

  I want Stuart to show me off, and for everyone to agree that he must be a total stallion to be with a girl like me.

  The party doesn't appear to be too intimidating from the outside, though I can definitely hear the sounds of sexual pleasure emanating from within the walls. Even outside, if you look closely, you'll notice an errant high heel that someone lost as they scrambled to undress. You'll catch two shadows humping in the distance.

  Stuart laces his fingers through mine and holds them tight, drawing my hand up to his mouth and kissing it firmly.

  "You don't have to do anything you don't want to do," he reminds me. "So, try to relax and have a good time."

  "I am having a good time," I reassure him, only hesitating for a split second when we reach the marble stairwell that will lead us into the mansion.

  Fake snow crusts the steps, though it isn't cold, of course. It's still majestic and almost makes me feel like I'm not at an orgy, like I'm at a charity event back in New York instead. I cross the threshold and march up the steps, not letting myself think too much about the future. I can do this. I'm a big girl. Stuart is right here if I need anything.

  There's a woman pressed up against a window, and some guy has his face buried in her ass. They're both wearing masks that are askew, and I recognize the man as the owner of a major tech company from LA. I saw him in Time magazine last month. And the perky ass cheeks he's so intently devouring belong to a supermodel. I don't know her name but I know her face.

  "Oh, Daddy," she whimpers against the glass, her fingernails clawing.

  I keep walking, I haven't even entered the foyer of the building yet but I can't. I'm frozen to the spot... and a flush is creeping its way down my body from my core. It rushes over my legs and tingles up into my face, into my fingertips. I’m hot and wet.

  "Do you like that?" Stuart asks me, and I suck in my lower lip, blinking up at him. I would feel like a freak if I said yes.

  "Of course not," I say, shaking my head and forcing my feet to move. "I don't want to... eavesdrop on anyone else's…"

  I cross into the threshold and my mouth drops. The words leave me. I can't even fathom the debauchery of this scene.

  There's a fake snowdrift piled into one wall, and I can hear moaning and see gyrating bodies but it's nearly impossible to tell who is who, to even tell how many people are rolling around in there. On the stairwell is a man dressed in the red velvet suit of Santa Claus, and he's hungrily eating out a woman in a mask and plain white dress identical to mine. In fact, she and I look a lot alike in general, and the wetness between my legs is growing. A man saunters over to the couple and tugs down the woman's top, sucking on her nipples. I wonder if she's going to come soon. She looks like she might.

  "Mm, you do like that," Stuart murmurs, one of his arms snaking around my torso. His hand drifts innocently, tenderly, over my crotch, pressing into the thin fabric and finding it soaked with my juices. "I knew it. I could smell your sweet pussy."

  "I didn't think I would like it," I confess in a whisper. "But maybe I do a little bit. With you here it doesn't seem so wrong or crazy."

  "Wanna test it?" Stuart invites, and his fingers bow, dipping artfully between my thighs and hooking up to part my lips.

  I gasp, startled at his deft awareness of my body, but it's already too late. His middle finger skims my engorged clit through the fabric of my white panties and my knees buckle.

  Once he touches my clit, it's over. My brain scrambles and falls out and he can do whatever he wants to me then.

  "What is testing it?"

  He grinds his hand subtly into the crotch of my gown, working through two layers of fabric to stimulate me. But he won't stop. His breath catches against my earlobe and I feel his tongue, then his teeth.

  His dick pulses between my ass cheeks as he rubs me. Some strangers in masks take interest in the scene, even though we are without a doubt the most clothed and conventional of the sexually active groups in the room.

  "Let's see how far you can go," Stuart hisses, hitching up my skirt in a sudden movement and jamming his whole hand directly into my panties. The watchers take much more interest now that they can see my thighs and all the way up to my panties, can even see Stuart's knuckles bobbing up and down against the material.

  I shudder and curl around him as he fondles me, his teeth still grazing my earlobe while his hand works.

  One of the two men on the staircase—the one eating the woman out, who is dressed like Santa Claus, beard and all—rears back and grasps the bottom of the woman's dress, tearing it off. Now she's exposed, pussy on display. The Santa Claus dives against her hot cunt again, going harder now, and I watch her face. She’s close.

  The other man leans back and unzips, a large erection bouncing out. He slides it between the woman's lips and she leans up to take it, like she’s hungry for it.

  "Oh, yeah," Stuart groans. My thighs shake, and now there are other people watching me and Stuart.

  We've become one of those animalistic couples, going at it right in front of everyone. But I can't stop. I want Stuart to make me come, and I want to watch that threesome on the stairs. I want these strangers watching to see me come, too.

  The woman on the stairs cries out around that cock and gushes all over Santa Claus, which sets off her blowjob partner. He blows in time with her and it's too much, all of us building together like this. Stuart hammers my clit mercilessly and my pussy convulses, losing control. I go limp in his arms and come all over his hand, eyes rolling back in my head as the room watches.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Stuart

  My cock is throbbing like it's going to break. Of all my wildest dreams, I never imagined that I could open Rose up, like my own little rosebud, right here in the middle of the Mystique Island mansion foyer. She's a different woman when she's with me. Unpredictable. Submissive, yet wild. Insatiable. And kinky.

  "You passed that test with flying colors," I breathe against her ear. My hand is still shoved in her panties, drenched. I love it. "Want to see how far we can take it?"

  "Yes," Rose answers without hesitation, and my cock squeezes for her.

  "Then go down on me," I rumble at her.

  "No," Rose answers, and my eyes bulge. My jaw clenches a little bit. She's... never said no to me. And I've never said no to her. Jesus Christ, we just can't do it. "Not here." A little smile tickles at the corners of her lips. "I want you comfortably seated. Like a king on his throne."

  My jaw goes slack now. She's the perfect woman. She has to marry me.

  "Okay," I rasp, already fantasizing how her wet mouth will stroke on my pole. Fuck, yes.

  We silently hunt for a room with an open, comfortable chair, discovering an unmanned Papasan in a room with several other people in it, all drinking and speaking loudly to one another. Four of the five wom
en in the room, six now, counting Rose, are totally nude.

  I slither to the back of the room, nodding my greetings to everyone in the room. None of them know who I am, and I don't know who any of them are, and I like it that way. They don't have to pretend to be interested in my business, and I don't have to pretend to be interested in theirs. We still talk but only about the things that really matter.

  I peel down my pants in front of them, brandishing my rigid cock for Rose, who seemed totally on board a minute ago.

  Now her eyes flick down, and then around. She'd better not be about to blush. Not when it's my turn to ride.

  "Come on," I whisper up to her. "Let me show you off."

  Those seem to be the magic words, and she grins, still beautiful in that delicate and strange mask. She bows down between my legs and takes me fully into her mouth, working her way down to my base. It almost is like she's consciously performing for them, and I bury my fingers in her hair, losing myself in her, forgetting the other people in the room.

  She glares up at me. She's fingering herself with the hand that bears my diamond ring. So hot. Her eyes close as she descends my shaft again, all the way to the base, mother of God. I let out an involuntary groan and attract the attention of several patrons.

  "Fuck, yeah, that's hot," one of the naked women says, and I see her go for her own cunt immediately. Jesus, this place is intense.

  "If you want to see someone," I pant at them, "let me show you this girl."

  I dig my fingers into her wheat-colored hair and drag her off of my member, which is almost purple right now, I want to release so bad. But the narcissist in me wants to show Rose off. I've never seen a more beautiful orgasm in my life. She's like an angel.

  I stand and drag foggy-eyed Rose onto the Papasan instead. She's half-hypnotized with all the sex and the intensity of our surroundings. One of the men in the room slides into one of the women and starts pounding but she's also obedient. She bends naturally to my body's slightest gestures, and that makes me hard as fuck. She's mine.