Santa’s Baby (Naughtier and Naughtier Book 3)

I wake up to find Tiffany sprawled like a starfish next to me. I can barely see her with just the hint of dawn shining through the crack in the curtains. She’s got a cute snore which hitches at its loudest, and the covers are right up to her chin. I love the way they rise and fall with her breaths, relishing the sensation of having someone in bed with me. It’s been years.

I watch her while she’s lost in dreamland, wondering what fantasies are rolling through her mind. Are they happy dreams, or terrifying nightmares?

I hope they aren’t like mine. Recurring sensations of loss that have my heart panging whenever I wake in the morning to realise what’s missing all over again.

Love. Companionship. The commitment of two people believing in a future together.

I resist the temptation to reach over and pull Tiffany close, or to snuggle up to her side and hold her like a treasure. I don’t want to disturb her. I don’t want her to start in shock as she wakes up in an unknown space with someone beside her.

More than anything, I don’t want her to sit up in confusion and back away – Creamgirl’s walls back up on instinct.

Dare I believe that this beauty really does need me as much as I need her? That her soul is ready to embrace mine the way mine is craving to truly let go and embrace hers?

Maybe she senses me staring at her, because the hitch of her snore morphs into a sigh, and she stretches her arms above her head. She does start in shock, but it doesn’t send her spawling to the opposite end of the bed, it sends her moving towards me, patting the covers as though she’s searching.

“I’m here,” I say and take hold of her hand.

“Phew.” She giggles. “Thought you might have gone.”

“Gone? Why?”

“Dunno. Work. Grotto. Downstairs.” She pauses. “Anywhere.”

There’s something in her voice I can’t ascertain. I pull her towards me so her head is on my chest as I wrap her in my arms.

“You’re nice and warm,” she says, and this time as her hands rove there is nothing sexual about it. She doesn’t slide her fingers down to my cock or hitch herself closer against my thigh like a horny minx. She just breathes, and relaxes. “Don’t you need to get up?”

“Soon, yes. I’ve got to get my Santa hat on for the day.”

“Do you ever take a day off?”

“From the grotto or just in general?”

“Either.”

I answer honestly. “No.”

“Nah, me neither. Not unless I can help it. Workaholics, both of us.”

Sexaholic is how the founders have referred to her before, not workaholic. She must have enough cash in her bank account to live a life of Riley – I’ve seen the value of her proposals, plus I’ve used my status to check the property register. She owns her place in Belgravia, and those apartments don’t come cheap.

There are so many questions I want to ask this beauty as I run my fingers up and down her arm.

Why?

Why is she such a workaholic?

Is it really her sex drive that keeps her busy night after night, apart from when she’s recovering?

“Why do you work so much?” she asks me. “Does the business need it? You could be living it up on a yacht somewhere, bathing in the sun.”

I have to laugh, because it’s like she can read my mind without me saying a word.

“Like you said. Workaholic. How about you? Why aren’t you on a yacht somewhere, bathing in the sun?”

“Don’t think I earn quite as much as you, Reuben. I’m pretty minted, but I’m not in millionaire territory. Not yet.”

“You’re surrounded by plenty of clients who are. I’m sure one of them would whisk you away for a trip whenever you wanted one. And you’d get paid for it.”

She strokes my chest.

“How about you? Would you whisk me away for a trip in the sun? You wouldn’t have to pay for it. Winner.”

The idea of relaxing in the sun with this goddess gives me a pang. I haven’t taken a proper vacation since Jeanette. Breaks with my ‘friends’ involving whisky and business chatter, yes. A true holiday, no.

I have nobody to share one with.

Had.

I had nobody to share one with.

“I’d gladly whisk you away for a trip in the sun, as long as your calendar would allow it.”

“Hmm. In that case, I guess we need to book some shared leave.”

The thought of her resuming her client bookings makes me feel sick to the stomach. I don’t want anyone else to touch the treasure. Least of all my founder friends with all their filthy plans. It’s on the horizon and I know it. The founders’ thread has been blaring on in the background without my input, and I know fresh proposals have been landing in Tiffany’s inbox almost constantly.

“After Christmas,” I say. “Keep your calendar free for a while when your proposals allow it, and we’ll go away?”

She stiffens in my arms, and her tension terrifies me.

“Sure, yeah. I’ll leave some bookings free. No problemo.” With that, she rolls away, planting a kiss on my shoulder on the way. “I need a pee.”

That was Creamgirl talking and not Tiffany. I know it.

I follow her to the ensuite, adoring the sight of her naked body as she drops herself onto the seat. But I don’t have a hard-on. I’m not out to fuck her senseless as I stand in the doorway.

“What?” I ask her. “What triggered that?”

“Triggered what?”

Yes, that’s definitely Creamgirl’s tone.

She spreads her legs as she starts pissing. “Want some playtime, or do you need to gallop off to the grotto?”

“Come on, Tiffany. Don’t deflect the question with your pussy.”

Her eyes flare at me, walls up high.

“I’m not triggered by anything. I’m cool.”

“Did I say something to upset you?”

She gives me a Creamgirl cackle. “No, of course not. You just offered me a yacht trip, I should be giving you a high five, not crying in a bathroom.”

I note the word should, but I don’t push it. Should be giving me a high five, not crying in a bathroom.

Crying.

She wipes her pussy and flushes the toilet. Her naked body looks incredible under the harshness of the bathroom lights. I love how her tits jiggle as she washes her hands.

Unfortunately, the grotto opens at ten, so I ease back on pushing her.

“What are you going to do today?” I ask. “Put your feet up, watch some TV? There’s practically a cinema downstairs.”

She shrugs. “Sure. I’ll find something to do. Always something to scroll through on social media, or who knows? I might even grab a book.” She gives me a smirk. “Don’t worry though, Santa, I’ll be ready to empty your sack when you get back home.”

The sparkle in her eyes would normally fill me with lust, but for some reason it grates at me this morning. I don’t need my sack emptying every minute of the day. I might enjoy it, but I don’t need it.

I guess it’s me who’s been triggered as I give a ‘great stuff’ and walk away.

She’s out of the bathroom as I take down one of my robes from the back of the bedroom door and wrap myself up.

“Jeez, Reuben. What’s up this morning? It’s like we’re a married couple in a mood with each other, not a hooker and a client.”

It’s my eyes that are like fire as I switch on the bedroom light to look at her.

“You are not a hooker, and I’m not a client. Not here. Not now.”

I head downstairs and put the coffee machine on. I need my caffeine. Fuck it, I hate feeling like this. Walls are there for a reason. It hurts like a bastard when they have to come up after being broken down. I take out a mug for Tiffany as well as myself, taking advantage of the squirty cream to make her a hot chocolate. I know she enjoys them in the morning.

She’s been rummaging in my wardrobe when she comes down. She’s dressed in a pair of my loose joggers and a big hoodie, which looks like she’s wearing a huge onesie. The hoodie is way too long for her.

“Sorry,” she says. “Can we just start over? I don’t know what this bullshit is, but I don’t like it.”

The eyes that are looking at me aren’t Creamgirl’s now, they’re Tiffany’s. Her gaze drops as she fake examines her nail extensions.

I force my own unease away for the sake of her smile. And my own.

“Of course. Good morning, Tiffany. I’ve made you a hot chocolate.”

Her grin is bright as she heads over and takes it from me.

“Thank you, kind sir.” She raises herself on tiptoes to plant a kiss on my cheek. “Aren’t you off to the grotto soon? The kids will be desperate to see you.”

“Yes, I am, and yes, I’m sure they will be.” I take a chance on impulse as she sips her hot chocolate – giving herself a cute cream moustache. “Why don’t you come along? There are always elf vacancies.”

Her eyebrows raise. “What? To the mall? With you?”

“You could come to the grotto, yes. Get in costume.”

She puts a hand on her hip. “Do elf costumes come in plus size?”

“We have plenty of elf costumes in plus size, Tiff. You’d make a cutie.”

“And what if someone saw us…” She looks right at me. “Someone, you know, who shouldn’t.”

I get a shiver, because her concern is well founded. Sometimes my associates do call in. They like Firenzo’s – my restaurant at the top of the mall.

“You could put your hair up, leave off the catflicks for a day.”

She giggles. “I think catflicks are done for me for the day anyway. Have you seen the state of them?”

There are barely any traces left to see. I kissed her so many times last night, licking and sucking that there is barely a hint of makeup left on her gorgeous face.

“It’s up to you.” I sip my coffee, grateful for the caffeine since my head is thumping after last night. My fuel tank is running on empty after playing with the goddess for so long. “I’d best go get ready anyway. Books, scrolling, TV, they are all there for your attention. Explore the house. Have a snooze.”

“Reuben wait,” she calls when I reach the stairs. She bites her lip, and my heart dares to race. “I’ll come. I’ll be an elf for the day. You’re right, nobody will recognise me. Not with my hair up.”

My heart soars as I grin.

“Great, we’ll be pleased to have you. So will the kids. They’re going to love another elf on the team, especially one with a smile like yours.” I hold out a hand. “Come on, let’s go get ready. I have clothes that will fit you better than that, at least until we get there.”

“Phew,” she laughs. “These joggers are going right up my butt crack.”

My cock hardens at her laugh. Tiffany’s laugh. Her real smile. The true humour in her eyes.

“I’ll be going up your butt crack later, missy. But I’ll be diving a lot deeper than those joggers.”

“Promises, promises,” she says as she takes my hand.

“A promise I intend on keeping.” I give her ass a good slap.

That sends her giggling and shooting up the stairs ahead of me.

“Look at you!” she says from the landing.

I look down at myself, wondering if my growing cock has escaped my robe.

It hasn’t. Not yet, anyway.

“This,” she says.

When I look back up the stairs, the gorgeous Tiffany is grinning wide, pointing at her huge smile with both hands.

“I’ve never seen you smile like you are right now,” she says.

And she’s right, I’m grinning so wide, I must look like the Cheshire cat.

“Come on, Santa,” she says and whips off the hoodie, “Santa’s baby needs dressing.”

It’s my turn to go running up the stairs, still grinning as Tiffany casts the hoodie aside and runs giggling to the bedroom.

I’ve never rang in sick for the grotto before, but hell, it does cross my mind.

This amazing girl has got me hooked, and I intend on never letting her go.