Content advisory: coarse language, oral sex, m/f sex
Recap: In Chapter One we met Crispin, an elf in charge of watching over Santa's Naughty List. Cris couldn't resist visiting one of the people on his list and getting into some naughtiness of his own.
The bench beneath her bottom was incredibly hard. Who designed these things? Being called on the carpet was supposed to be uncomfortable for the offender. Not the witnesses and spectators.
Petra surveyed Crispin as he stood before Dewar, the head of their department. Six-two, short black hair, shoulders like a linebacker and a tight ass. Cris looked nothing like the leotard wearing pointy shoed elves pictured on the cards humans exchanged during the holiday season.
Her gaze travelled down the length of his body, ending up at Crispin’s feet. She hid a startled laugh behind her hand. Pointy toed slippers complete with bells stuck out from the bottoms of his jeans. Cocky bastard. The informal jeans and untucked shirt were bad enough, but the shoes were too much. Maybe Dewar would notice the footwear and add an extra day or two to the sentence. Oh, the things she could dream up for the naughty elf to do while he served out his punishment.
The image of Cris’ straining backside and thighs while he nailed the human replayed in her mind. She’d come into the office and found the visual feast on the monitors just as Crispin and his playmate were nearing the end of who knew how many sac sessions. Her eyes had taken in the messed sheets, pillows littering the floor and a variety of sex toys strewn around the bed. The room, and couple, looked like the aftermath of a porn movie in the making.
According to the display on the transport module, Cris had left the North Pole shortly after ten PM and Petra stood waiting for his return at eight minutes after six AM. He’d been gone long enough to go a few rounds with the voluptuous brunette. The demand she’d made of him when he returned was based on assumptions. Luckily, Crispin didn’t know how much or how little she’d seen, and she planned to keep it that way.
Dewar’s gavel smashed down on the desk and snapped Petra from her musings. The other spectators had begun to rise from their seats and file out of the room. She’d missed the judgement. Crap.
Grabbing the arm of a short redhead, she asked what sentence Dewar had given. The woman smiled and patted Petra’s hand.
“He was let off.”
“He what?” she gaped. “But how?”
“Cris is a good boy and without video evidence of what happened while he was out of the office there wasn’t much Dewar could say, or do.”
Dumbfounded, Petra thanked the woman and let her continue out of the hearing room. Well, didn’t that just screw up her plans for the weekend? Rising, she glanced over at Crispin where he stood talking with Rissa, one of the other List watchers. Had he slept with her, too? Probably, she looked just like the human tart Petra had caught him with the day before.
No matter, he was due at her place later that night to fulfill his part of their bargain.
“Speaking of which,” she chided herself. “I need to get preparations under way.”
Petra gave her honey blonde hair one final fluff as she glanced at the clock above her mantle. Two minutes to eight. Where was he? Had Crispin changed his mind about their agreement now that he was free of mistrust? Panic and suspicion rose up to choke her.
Breath coming in short gasps, heart racing, she nearly missed the subtle knock at her door. She cast a quick glance at the clock again. Eight, on the button.
“Petra?” Crispin’s voice rang out from the hallway. “It’s Cris.”
He’d come. She smirked and walked across the room to let him in. If she played her cards right, he’d keep coming until the morning bell rang. Twelve hours in her bed wasn’t too high a price to pay for his freedom, was it?
“Cris,” she greeted. Petra stepped aside, the hem of her lingerie flowing around the bottom of the door as she pulled it open wider. “You came.”
Her heart dropped a little when she looked him over. After all the effort she’d gone through with bathing, perfuming, her hair and the outfit – he’d shown up in his usual jeans and t-shirt. The same ones he’d been wearing at the hearing, minus the slippers. Thank you, small blessings.
“We had an agreement,” he noted. “I’m a man of my word.”
Crispin wandered in and she closed the door, waiting to see if he’d comment on the trouble she’d gone to for him.
Candles glittered on the mantle and side tables and lit the room with a soft, muted glow. Her favorite Mary Banilow CD played softly in the background and a trail of crimson poinsettia petals led the way to her bedroom.
“I hope you like it?” she bit her lip nervously. “I wanted to give the evening a little romance.”
He lifted a shoulder nonchalantly. A soft, resigned sigh floated over to her.
“You really didn’t have to,” he replied. “I’m not here for romance, Petra.”
“But…” she stumbled on her words.
“Listen,” he turned to face her. “You said you wanted what I gave Anna. If you were paying any kind of attention while indulging your inner voyeur, you’d know – what Anna and I did was straight up fucking. No romance. No seduction. Just wham, bam and see ya never.”
“I see.”
A long, tapered finger flipped the gossamer ruffles over her breasts. The movement held a tinge of sarcasm, if one could assign the emotion to such a thing.
“If you did,” Cris began but cut the sentence short with a sigh. “Let’s just do this. I assume your room is at the end of the petal trail?”
Petra nodded. Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment but she refused to back down. Crispin, the man she’d been fantasizing about since the moment their paths had crossed outside Santa’s office, was here in her apartment. Sure, he was there because of her lie and manipulation but if he was going to be a cold bastard about it – so be it.
She followed him into the room, narrowly avoiding being snagged by the shirt Cris whipped off. The strong lines of his back bulged with each movement, recalling the way they’d flexed on the screen. If she hadn’t already been wet with anticipation, she was positively gushing now.
A light dusting of freckles scattered over the broad expanse of Cris’ shoulders and back. The monitors hadn’t shown that sexy little detail when she’d watched him fuck Anna.
Crispin dropped his pants to reveal dark green jock-style underwear. The smooth, firm globes of his ass framed by emerald straps tempted her to reach out and touch him. Rock solid muscles flexed as he shifted to toe off his jeans and step out of them.
“Do you have any toys?” he asked while turning to face her.
Petra blinked, confused. “Toys?”
“Yeah,” he smirked. “A vibrator? Dildo? Anything?
She stared at him, bewildered. “No, I figured you’d bring anything you expected to use or need.” Then it struck her. Of course he wouldn’t. Anna’s bed had been littered with sex toys when she’d gotten a look at the two of them. There was no way Crispin had taken all of that with him from the office. She blushed, “Oh. Did you... Are they something you need?”
He gave her a bland look and Petra glanced toward the bed. At the rate things were going, she’d never get him into the sac.
“I don’t need them,” he finally replied. “They’re just nice to have on hand so I can take a break while working you up to the next orgasm. I’ve got great recovery time but even I need a little rest in between.”
Cris reached out and flicked the thin strap off her left shoulder. The material draped over her breast lopsidedly before the other side joined it with another quick flick to the right strap.
The diaphanous gown slid down to pool around her waist and hips. Bared to his gaze, she stood tall beneath his scrutiny. He could look his fill, she’d seen him in action and every inch of Cris’ body was committed to memory.
A gentle touch skated across the underside of her right breast. The tip hardened instantly. Desire flooded through her, stealing her breath as she waited to see what Crispin would do next.
Stepping close, Crispin brushed a thumb over an erect nipple. Warm lips caressed her throat while one of his hands drifted down her back to cup her backside through the thin negligee.
“Relax, Petra,” he murmured between tiny kisses. “I won’t bite. Touch me. You wanted this. Take it.”
Petra crushed herself to him. Her hands slithered around to grasp at his rear, nails sinking into the naked flesh she’d admired moments ago. Emboldened by his grunt of approval, she turned her face toward Cris’ and caught his mouth in a tawdry kiss. Her teeth nipped at his lower lip when he tried to cut the tongue tangle short. If she wanted kisses, he was damn well going to oblige.
Smooth silk whispered down, caressing the curve of her thighs, the backs of her knees and calves to form a puddle at her feet. The thin cotton of Crispin’s briefs remained as the only barrier between them. They did little to disguise the burgeoning erection pressed tight against Petra’s belly. Cris might not want her but parts of his anatomy did.
Before she realized what he was doing, Crispin picked her up and climbed onto her bed. He lowered her to the coverlet and tossed off the dozen ornamental pillows until she lay flat beneath him. Petra reached up to pull him down but found her arms empty as he dropped out of reach.
Playful, teasing eyes looked up at her while he tugged the dusky pink tip of a breast into his mouth. He suckled her hard, teeth grazing over the taut flesh. His mouth released her tit with an audible pop and traveled over to its twin to lavish the same treatment on it.
“Cris,” she moaned. Her back arched, pressing more of her breast up for him to touch and taste with his mouth.
He nipped at her. “Shush.”
“Why?” she asked. He nipped at her again and Petra shut her mouth.
“Good girl,” he praised. Sitting back, Cris slid the briefs down his thighs and freed his erection. The thick length bobbed free, stretching almost to his belly button as he leaned back to remove the garment. A cocky gleam filled his wintergreen eyes when he looked down at her. Balls cradled in one hand, he tossed the underwear aside and began to slowly stroke his dick with the other. “You want this?” he asked. She opened her mouth to respond and he shook his head. “No, no talking. Show me what you want.”
Petra studied him for a moment.
Letting her thighs fall open, she reached between them and dipped a finger between the slick folds of her slit. Slowly, she coated the digit with her juices and then brought it up to her mouth. Her tongue swirled around her finger, licking the musky evidence of her desire from it while she stared at Cris.
He grinned, released his cock and slid lower on the bed. Cris’ hands snagged her legs as he moved and pulled her to the edge of the mattress. His shoulders held her thighs apart and he leaned in to kiss and nip at the soft skin bracketing his face.
The firm point of Cris’ tongue slowly slicked up the seam of her folds. He found the hooded nubbin at the apex with ease, like someone who’d been there before and was familiar with her terrain.
Crispin licked and sucked at her between playful, teasing nips. The light edge of pain was new to her. Gregory had never done anything like that to her the few times he’d coerced her into bed. More often than not she would satisfy him with a quick blow job and go merrily on her way. Sex with him consisted of a touch here, a caress there and a few minutes later he’d lay spent, snoring into the pillow beside her. Loser. Never again.
She had an inkling of what a real man could do between the sheets. Petra swore to never again settle for less than what she deserved.
Her bedmate must have sensed her distraction. With a sharp suck on her clit, Cris brought her back to the present and arched her off the bed. The intense pleasure of his mouth sealed tight against her pussy and his thick fingers shoved deep inside her hole erased any thoughts of Greg and his amateurish sexual encounters.
Petra moaned, writhing with each suck and push. A feverish need burgeoned in her belly. Tiny tendrils of heat snaked out until finally, the most intense orgasm she’d ever experienced blasted through to her extremities. Bucking and screaming she was a wild thing as crest after crest rode her.
The tremors began to ease and a new sensation replaced the heat of Crispin’s mouth. He loomed over her, the thick length of his cock filling her with every glorious inch. His balls thwacked against her ass as he pushed in hard and fast.
“Fuck,” he groaned and pulled back.
Cris settled into a steady rhythm, hard and slow. With each thrust he withdrew nearly to the head and slammed inside with a low grunt. He ground against her, fucking her just as he’d done on the monitors.
She dug her nails into the flexing muscles of his back, raking them down while she arched and whimpered for more. Her thighs flexed around him, holding tight as she rocked her hips to meet his over and over.
The fire in her veins built again from a minute spark to a raging inferno of lust, need and desire. Overwhelming in its intensity, her second orgasm slammed through Petra with vicious ferocity. She came, screaming with each mind-numbing pulse. Her nails shredded Crispin’s skin with each wild arch of her back.
Tears slid from the corners of her eyes as she drifted in a blissful, satiated state. Cris’ cock ploughed into her with increasing speed. His breathing came in short, sharp gasps and his handsome face screwed up tighter into a grimace with each thrust.
“Gonna come,” he panted. “Fuck. Gonna come.”
A few more heavy shoves into her and Crispin reared back with a roar. His hips locked against her, the heat of his release filling Petra as he jerked against her.
“Anna,” he whispered.
Petra froze, certain she’d heard wrong.
Crispin placed a quick kiss on her lips and dropped to the mattress. “Fuck, Anna. You’re unbelievable.”
“Anna?” she raged. “You fucking bastard! How dare you?”
Gathering the sheets around her, Petra shoved him off the bed and glared angrily at him when he rose. His shoulders lifted and fell with suppressed laughter as he gathered his clothes and wandered to the bedroom door.
“What’s the matter, Petra?” he drawled. A smirk curved his lips and mirth glittered in his evergreen eyes. “I gave you exactly what you asked for, honey. A fast fuck. You never said I couldn’t visualize someone else while I did you.”
“You…” she gaped. “Get out, Crispin. Just… Get out.”
She caught a glimpse of his back as he left and felt a small grain of satisfaction at the wreckage she’d left behind. Explain that one to your precious Anna, asshole.
Danielle Gavan
Paranormal and Erotic Romance Author
All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.
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