Santa’s Baby (Naughtier and Naughtier Book 3)

I’ve always loved the grotto – that’s no secret – relishing the Christmas spirit of the families enjoying the run up to their festivities, but watching Tiffany as an elf, singing along with the children in the queue is raising things to a whole new level with every passing moment. It also reminds me of the true needs I’ve been masking for years.

It’s just gone ten when a toddler enters the room with her father. She’s barely able to walk yet, gripping her daddy’s finger as she toddles along. She has a bright smile and a twinkle in her eyes, and so does her father. He’s so obviously proud as she lets go of him and toddles on over to me. I pick her up with a ho, ho, ho and she giggles as she pulls at my fluffy beard.

Her humour and enthusiasm pain me today as well as bring me joy. I wish that I was her father, with her tiny hand gripping my fingers.

“This is Santa Claus,” her dad tells her, then looks at me with a grin. “She’s been such a treasure this year, even through the teething.”

“I’m sure she has.” I bounce the little tyke on my lap, with another ho, ho, ho and she giggles as though she’s on a fair ride. I see Tiffany in her eyes. I see the joy and the amusement. The life and soul.

I want a child like this one of my own, birthed by the woman handing out candy canes in the queue outside.

Tiffany cancelling the founders’ proposal was a huge statement this morning, spawned by an impulsive move of jealousy that I should never have allowed myself to make. I feel disgusted at myself for it.

Tiffany is a woman with an impressive career, who has built up her reputation over four years. She may be an elf volunteering at a mall grotto right now, with her stripy tights and bobble hat, but she is a sex goddess. A hardcorer. One of the Agency’s finest.

I’m torn in two different directions. For once, I have no clear route in sight.

The tiny sweetheart on my lap holds out her arms with a dada once her picture is taken. Her father sweeps her up, and I hand him a goodie bag with a miniature reindeer and some penguin stickers.

“Have a wonderful Christmas,” I say. “Ho, ho, ho!”

“You, too, Santa.”

I can only hope, since a wonderful Christmas doesn’t usually bless me. This year the potential of spending the holidays with a woman like Tiff has given me a light on the horizon I never imagined coming my way, but it might be a high before a terrible low.

Can Tiff give up the Agency? Her career? Truly?

Would she want to?

I know that sex workers build relationships with each other. I’m well aware that they can separate their personal lives and their professional careers, with no jealousy or suspicion whatsoever.

But I’m not an entertainer like Tiffany, and I’m not a man who will be able to bear my jealousy easily. I want monogamy, with Tiffany, in my home and by my side.

Even if I was able to bear my jealousy, our liaisons are strictly forbidden. It’s not only Tiff who has deep connections with the Agency and what she has accomplished there. I’ve been a proud stakeholder for years, creating a safe space for both entertainers and clients while making a killing on the back of it. It’s a huge part of my life. A staple in my portfolio.

Me and Tiffany are both playing with a fire that is far more powerful than a warm Christmas hearth. It’s got the potential to blow our world to smithereens.

Fuck it. I have to cast the thoughts aside for the sake of sanity.

The next little boy is around eight years old. He dashes in with a Santa! and I’m enamoured as he lists off his amazing achievements this year, counting them out on his fingers.

I kept my bedroom tidy.

I cleaned out Lily’s hamster cage every day.

I played in the football team every single weekend, AND I scored six goals.

I came second in the class on the spelling test.

I let my older brother watch TV in the middle of a movie, because I wanted to be nice.

The list goes on and on, and his mother is another smiler, giving a proud nod at every achievement he shares.

“You have been a good boy,” I tell him. “Very good.”

“Can I have a new bike, then?” he asks. “I’ll ride it all the time, I promise.”

I glance at his mum, and she gives the tiniest nod.

“We’ll see, young man. I do have a lot of bikes I hand out to good children. Let’s see what I deliver to you on Christmas Eve.”

He wraps an arm around my shoulder for the photo, and skips on out with a see you later and a high five.

I’ve always dreamed of having a daughter, but I’d love a son like him, too.

I need to stop dreaming and focus on my task at hand and nothing more, but Tiffany is so close to the front of the queue that I keep catching sight of her. I can hear her laughing and joking when the door is open between visitors. It’s addictive.

It’s only a few short weeks until the New Year will be upon us, and the question of what happens next is hanging like a sword I don’t want to have to face. I’m a strong man, but the thought of Tiffany turning away from me would buckle my legs from under me.

Still, I’d put her needs before my own. Always.

I’m exhausted when the grotto winds down for a late lunch. I must have seen about fifty children walk through the door by now, but Tiffany’s joy-filled face is by far the greatest thing that appears to greet me. Evelyn and Jen have closed the queue, and Toby has shot out of the grotto for a break from photography, already glued to his phone when he left with a catch you in a bit.

“Hey, Santa.” Tiffany shuts the door behind her. “Lynn and Jen have gone to get a sandwich and do a bit of Christmas shopping. I thought I’d hang around, take a later lunch.”

She sits down on my lap like she did the very first time we locked eyes, but this time there is no simmering chemistry that hangs unfulfilled. I pull my beard down and go for her, and she twists to kiss me back, both of us frantic as I grope at her tits through her elf dress.

“There’s only one thing I want for lunch,” she says and grinds her big ass against my crotch.

The bustle of the mall is still loud all around us. The thin fake doors are unlocked as she twists herself to straddle me. My pillow belly meets her real one and she laughs.

“Think we’ll manage?”

I kiss her neck. “I’m certain of it.” I inch forward in my sleigh seat. “Can you be a quiet girl for Santa?”

“I’ll try.”

She scrambles to tug her elf tights down, and my fingers are straight to her hot cunt, sliding between her pussy lips. She’s so wet it makes my dick throb.

“I’ve been thinking about this all morning,” she tells me. “So many good little girls on Santa’s lap. I’ve been so jealous.”

I’m tempted to tell her that I’ve been thinking of filling her up with cum and making a good little girl of our own. A little sweetheart with Tiffany’s grin. Her eyes. Her wavy hair. I want to share how badly I want to fuck her with a big baby belly. How badly I want to see her straining with contractions as our baby stretches her pussy open, both of us desperate to meet our child.

I’ve stretched Tiffany’s fleshy cunt with my fist a lot of times now, but it never loses its fascination. I’ve asked her to push down with everything she’s got, loving the way she groans as she tries to force me out of her. I’ve imagined how she’d look in childbirth. I’ve punch fucked her and made her take it so rough that she’s wailed. Tipping her head back with her legs spread, gushing her orgasm as if her waters had broken.

I manage to get my cock out of my Santa pants and she lowers herself with a grin. She could be a pelvic floor champion, because her pussy grips my dick like she’s a fucking virgin, squeezing to milk me dry.

That’s what I want. I want Tiffany’s cunt to milk me. I want to fill her up with round after round of cum, and put my baby inside her. I want to watch it grow in her swollen belly, and suck on her lactating tits to milk her. I’d love her milk in my mouth. I’d love squeezing her big tits while our baby is sleeping, and watch her nipples dribbling milk down her stomach.

I grit my teeth to stay silent in the grotto, my hands on her ass as she rises up and down.

The risk of being caught here makes me harder than ever and I know Tiffany can feel it with every buck of her hips. She speeds up, and I ease myself back in my seat as my curvy beauty bounces. Tits and belly. She braces herself on my pillow stomach and goes for it like a whore on a mission, whispering curses as she uses my cock to make her come.

It’s a silent O for her. Her face is so beautiful as she closes her eyes and rides the waves, then grimaces in the silence. And thank fuck it’s over too quickly to have her gushing.

It’s over quickly for me, too, the thought of the door opening and one of the girls walking in spurring me on. I grip her hips as I shoot Santa’s load into her hot elf cunt, imagining it spurting deep, right the way up into her fucking womb.

She’s still on my lap as she catches her breath. I give her gentle kisses as she calms, wishing the grotto break was longer, so I could switch places and fuck her from behind with her face mashed into the sleigh seat cushions. But I can’t do that. Not today. Jen and Evelyn will be back at any time now, and so will Toby.

Tiffany winks as she gets up from my lap and squats. She runs her hands between her legs and collects the dripping cum from her pussy, then she sucks her fingers clean as I watch her.

“That’s just what I wanted for lunch,” she says, then pulls her tights up. Such a travesty to see that dribbling pussy hidden from view.

“How about you, Santa? Feeling better with an empty sack?”

“If only you knew,” I say, tucking my cock away.

“Knew what?”

“How much better you really make me feel, just by being here, never mind milking me dry with that amazing cunt of yours.”

“Aww,” she says, adjusting her elf hat, “look at you, being all soppy.”

“Just being honest,” I say.

“Then we should make emptying Santa’s sack a habit. Eve and Jen can always take the earlier time out. I’ll be conscientious and make sure the grotto is all set, ready for the queue to start up again. We always need a good elf on site with Santa, after all.”

“Maybe Santa will indeed deliver you a present every day, Tiffany. If you’re a good girl.”

“I’m not used to being a good girl,” she says. “I’m normally on the naughty list. Literally.”

She starts rearranging some of the fake gifts around my feet at that, and I get a punch in the gut. A fresh reminder of what lies ahead for us.

The Naughty List will be calling Tiffany with every passing minute. Her inbox of proposals is full to bursting. I’ve checked, and she’s been ignoring them, just as I’ve been ignoring the founders’ thread. But it’s there for both of us. We can’t ignore it for ever.

My dirty elf is making sure her dress is back in position when Jen walks in. My heart thumps at the realisation of just how close we were to getting caught. A minute, tops. If we’re going to play this filthy game every day, it’s going to get risky. Really fucking risky.

But as Tiff winks on the way out, I know I won’t be able to resist. I never will. I could never turn down my elf princess.

“You alright, Reuben?” Jen asks, and pulls a sandwich from a bag. “Grabbed you a tuna mayo baguette.”

Tiff is still in the doorway, smiling at me.

“Enjoy your baguette, Reuben,” she says. “If you’re back now, Jen, I’ll go grab myself some lunch. Might do a bit of shopping, too.”

“Go for it,” Jen says. “Head up to Janie’s Bakes on the top floor. Plonk your tired butt down and have one of their cappuccinos and carrot cakes. Bloody delicious.”

“Might just do that,” Tiff says.

“Don’t miss out. Trust me, you’ll be a regular!”

I don’t think Tiffany has been to the top floor of the mall before. It’s a shame I’m not taking her myself, as I’d love to treat her to a cappuccino and carrot cake. I’d be focused on her hungry mouth as she ate it. Her groan of appreciation at the taste.

I have to eat my tuna baguette quickly, and hit the bathroom like lightning before the grotto line opens up again. It’s going to be a busy afternoon.

I ho, ho, ho non-stop from the off, adding to the mountain of Christmas lists and cards the kids have written for me, and hearing how much they want to see Rudolph in the sky.

I’ve just finished hearing how a young pair of twins want matching kittens under the Christmas tree when Evelyn arrives in the grotto. She has a look of confusion on her face. Her eyebrows are creased, and she points over her shoulder towards the grotto door.

“There are some people here to see you. They say it’s urgent.”

“Urgent? What people?”

She nods. “One of them said his name is Bry, and the other guy… I think I’ve seen him before. People are talking to him. Mayor of somewhere.”

I sit bolt upright in my sleigh seat and pull my stupid beard from my face, my heart fucking racing.

“What shall I say?” Evelyn asks. “The queue is massive. Shall I tell them to come back later?”

Fucking hell, this can’t be happening. Please, God, fucking no. I don’t have time to think, time to act, time to collect myself together. Not with Bryson and Charles outside.

“Shut the grotto,” I tell Evelyn. “It’s closed, as of right now.”

“Shut the grotto? For real?!”

“Yes. Shut the grotto. Disperse the queue. Head off now, Toby, the day is done.” I suck in a breath as everyone jumps into action, cursing myself for ignoring the chat thread. I should have seen this fucking coming.

Bry pokes his head around the grotto doorway a few seconds later. He’s hardly smiling with festive cheer.

“Gooday, Santa. Thought we’d drop by for a quick hello.”

Fuck!