Santa's Baby: A Santa's Coming Short Story Read online

  Santa’s Baby by Dee Ellis

  © 2018 by Dee Ellis. All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any written, electronic, recording, or photocopying without written permission of the publisher or author. The exception would be in the case of brief quotations embodied in the critical articles or reviews and pages where permission is specifically granted by the publisher or author.

  Cover Design: Dandelion Cover Designs

  Interior Design: Dee Ellis for Indies Ink

  Publisher: Hummingbird Press

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Santa’s Coming Series

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Stupid snow.

  Getting in my damn way. Reminds me of the many reasons I loathe winter. In another life I loved the holiday season. Now, not so much.

  Usually happens when your life becomes pleasing others while you get zero pleasure yourself. Oh, that sounds dirty. I wish. Nothing clandestine about the pleasure I serve. I should be so lucky. Laughing at my randy turn of thought, I stop mid-chuckle as I glare out at another face.

  “Thank you so much. Thank you.” My glare softens to a smile—probably the first I have worn all day—as the young mother hoists her tyke up on her hip. With glaring smiles and excited faces, they seem happy. A slice of my heart warms. Just a little.

  Behind them a line of other mothers—most demanding and wearing entitlement thick enough to choke a reindeer—wait beside the cheesy Santa's Village display. As soon as the sweet mother vanishes, my perma-frown returns as I focus on the line winding through the candy cane path. A path leading to what I begrudgingly agree is an adorable home fit for one man.

  Santa freaking Claus.

  Seated on a huge gold and red velvet throne sits the man himself. Well, this week’s rent-a-Santa, at least. This morning he smelled of whiskey and cigars. The kids either don’t notice or don’t care. All I really care about is getting the best shots I can of their moments with Santa. Also, I care how my ridiculous elf costume chafes in the worst possible places.

  “Hold for me, folks!” I shout over the jingling bells pumping through the loud speakers.

  Fake snow falls in fat flakes as I take shot after shot of kids sitting with Santa as they regale him with all their Christmas wishes. It is kind of cute, I suppose. Although the snow makes me angry because it ruins a few shots despite my attempts. I’m repeatedly reminded how far I have truly fallen.

  Also, in another life, I wanted to be a real photographer. Wasn’t asking for much, really; didn’t want a Nobel Prize for covering war-torn travesties or expect my shots to grace the cover of Time or even Rolling Stone. Are those still magazines? Do people still read magazines?

  All I ever wanted was to take photos that people cared about. Photos that years later, a mother or father might hold in their hand as they’re taken back to a moment I captured. Photos of families and moments that mean something. While visiting Santa might be meaningful for some parents—and sure as hell means something to the little tykes—it's not where I expected to end up.

  Even if it’s less than I expected, it’s a job. A paying one. If you can call what I make being paid. Better than nothing, I suppose. Blowing out a sigh, I smile as the crowd begins to thin as the skies darken. I am paid. I am taking photos. I am breathing. Could be worse off I, no doubt.

  “Thanks for today, darling,” I cringe as Uri breathes his thanks into the back of my hair, “Always a good elf, Joy. Doing good work. Can I repay you with a drink?” I could set my watch by how many times a day Uri, the manager of Santa’s Village, offers to repay me somehow. Thanks, but no thanks.

  “Not tonight, Uri.” I give the same answer every single time and still he continues to ask. Can’t say the guy is a quitter.

  “Same time tomorrow then, Joy?” As I start to pack away my camera and supplies, I want to say no. I want to say I won’t be coming back to watch the parade of excitable children or demanding mothers. I don’t say that, of course. I have no choice.

  “Same Santa time. Same Santa channel, Uri.” I offer a smile and finish up before twinkling lights, fake snow, and jingle bells ruin the rest of my night.

  A night that two hours later consists of a steaming bowl of Ramen from Yoshi-Ya down the street from my closet size apartment, threadbare pajamas and Golden Girls Reruns. I am living the life. It’s not up for debate. I have figured life out. I am two cats short of being just another typical pathetically single woman who has yet to figure out how to adult.

  “And though she was alone she was not lonely.” I sigh as I say this out loud to an empty apartment with Blanche and Rose adding a soundtrack.

  I know I am lying. The walls that echo my words back at me might as well be wagging a finger and singing ‘liar-liar-pants-on-fire' at me. I get by with my handful of friends. Even attempt to date on occasion. Several dating apps lay unused in my phone—although I do peruse from time to time for some eye candy. They have their uses.

  I am twenty-five, single, and failing at life with no prospects to better any of the above.

  Grunting as Golden Girls talk about finding love at last, I bite into my egg roll. Bah humbug, I say.

  Love is as real as Santa Claus.

  Chapter Two

  Today might be the worst day of my life.

  Yeah, I have a flair for the dramatic but today has been utter shit. Got stuck in the elevator at my apartment with the creep from 3B who offered to make the wait worth my while. Yuck. A downtown bus drenched me in sludge as it flew past—a bus that turned out to be my bus to Santa’s Village in fact—and a line is waiting once I get to work with kids already screaming.

  “Fuck my life!” I shout as I file into the locker rooms to change out of my wet clothes into the stupid damned elf costume.

  Before I could explain my misfortunes Uri threw kindling on the inferno of my life. Bitched about my being late—for the first time ever—said we had a new Santa again, and stated our checks will be late. Again.

  I almost couldn’t do it. Almost could not go out there and take photos of other people in their Christmas best looking forward to the holiday. With my soaked clothes torn off I hold the offensive elf suit away from me in protest.

  “Can’t be all bad, cuteness.” A rough rumble of a voice shoots heat through me. Fear should come first as I should be alone in the locker room. But clearly after the day I’ve had being caught half naked is the least of my worries.

  Standing in the doorway is a vision of manhood. I read the books and sometimes I watch the movies. And yet I never believed someone who looked like that actually existed. But, shit, seems he does.

  Dark hair falls into darker eyes as they trail over me, slowly, as if he’s reaching out to touch me. I shudder as if I feel that touch on my cold skin. A straight nose, sharp jaw and a day’s worth of coffee brown stubble has me thinking underwear model.

  Also, maybe because he’s in just his underwear. I realize then, I am too.

  He looks good in his, though. Damn good.

  Tight boxers mold to thick thighs—they're bright red against his tawny skin—and I count at least twelve bumps of muscle on his taut abdomen. Maybe fifteen. Is that even possible? Doesn’t matter. Huge pecs bunch as he pushes off the door frame to saunter towards me.

  As he moves, the tattoos winding from his right pec, over his shoulder and down to his wrist fascinate me. That’s a partial truth. As all his muscles bunch and ripple as he crosses towards me, every single thing about him fascinates me. Including the package wrapped up neatly behin
d those red boxers.

  “Excuse me?’ I clear my throat and still my words come out messy.

  “Said it can’t be all bad, cuteness. Can it?” As he pauses a close enough for me to feel his body heat, he cocks his head. Smiles down at me and flashes two perfect dimples as his eyes sparkle.

  Can it be all bad with someone who smiles like that while wearing his skimpies? I kind of doubt it. I feel my skin flush as those dark eyes travel over me again and realize I too am still in my skimpies. I twist away to yank the costume up my legs before I realize a strange dude is half naked in my changing room.

  “Maybe not. Who the hell are you, by the way? And doing what exactly in here?” I struggle to reach the zipper on the back of the polyester nightmare and gasp loudly when I feel fingers at my bare skin.

  Mr. Boxers slid behind me as I face the lockers, his hands working my zipper up. I feel his thighs against mine and his chest at my back. Thighs quaking, I press both hands against the lockers because otherwise I might slip to the ground at his feet. Rough fingertips drag up my back along with the zipper.

  Been ages since I’ve been touched and I can feel an orgasm teasing up my spine.

  “Changing. Uri never clarified boy or girl changing rooms. Name is Nick. I will also answer to Santa Clause for the rest of the season, it seems.” I twist a look at him over my shoulder to find him twirling a Santa hat on his finger. Smirking wide with those dimples flashing at me.

  “Impossible.” I bark as I shove his hand off the back of my neck where it has lingered since he finished zipping me into hell.

  That huge hand skims down the back of me and a shudder follows. And that big body presses close against me as he drops his head a little. When he speaks next his words rumble against my back as they heat my flesh.

  “Nah, little elf. It’s a fact. Not my most glamorous gig, true. A gig nonetheless. And you, cuteness? Who are you?” I know the answer to that. I am sure I do. But I can’t deliver a word in response.

  Why? Oh, because half-naked Santa Nick has pinned me to the lockers with his body. Thick arms press on either side of me as he smirks at me. It’s the hardness pressing into my backside that steals my words. My breath, too. It chokes out in a gasp as he lowers his head to catch my gaze as he rocks his hips just slightly.

  “Jo--Jo...Joy. Santa’s Elf.” I want to steal those stupid words back until his eyes flash with something I swear is hunger. For what? For me?

  “My little elf, hmm? I will take it.” Taunting words breathe heat against my neck before it spreads everywhere else to pool between my legs.

  “Need Santa out here, Nick. Natives are growing restless.” Uri’s shout makes me jump and Nick lets out a sigh.

  “Duty calls, little elf. See you out there.” Nick moves away taking his heat and weight with him. I miss all three immediately.

  What. In. The. Actual. Fuck?

  Sexy Santa Nick leaves me breathless, with quaking thighs and filthy thoughts of his thick candy cane.

  Chapter Three

  Nick might be the hottest Santa ever.

  In the existence of time, ever. Like, ever, ever.

  Behind the camera I watch as he smooth talks crying babies, howling toddlers and shouting little shits. And those demanding mothers? Charms the panties right off them. While keeping my panties in a twist.

  Somehow Nick manages to maintain that sexy aura that had me stuttering earlier. Even in full beard and his velvet Santa get up. How someone can manage that I have no clue. But, he does. And he does it well.

  Those dimples pop up in every photo—despite the bushy beard—and his eyes twinkle as he poses for the camera. I realize he must model since he mentioned this being a gig. Also, the man knows how to take a photo. For the first time in months I am excited about taking photos with him on the other side of my lens.

  It’s time to break for dinner but I do not want to stop taking photos. In fact, once Santa’s Shop is clear of little eyes, I snap some shots of Nick shedding his heavy velvet jacket and thick beard. I take a few of him brushing his hands through his thick hair and rubbing at his own short dark beard.

  “Getting good shots, little elf?” I flush hot as he smirks at me, looking right into my lens. I snap the shot and bounce my shoulders.

  “Perhaps. You a model, Nick?” I cock my head as he closes the distance between us.

  Every single step he takes brings heat my way. We’re inside Santa’s Shop with its candy sweet design and perfumed air but I feel anything but saccharine. I do feel hot and sticky as Nick cranks up that grin at me, though. He hesitates barely a foot away. I breathe deep his piney masculine scent, thankful it drowns out the sugary air surrounding us.

  “Sometimes I pretend to be. Do you model, Joy?” I narrow my eyes before they roll in disgust.

  “Oh, cute. Very cute. Santa’s got jokes. Dinner break is half an hour. See you after, Santa.” I twist away as my face flushes with shame and tears sting my eyes.

  Suck it up, Joy. You are used to that shit. So Goddamn used to it.

  “Whoa, wait a second. What just happened?” Heavy hands land on my hips as I attempt to make a break for it.

  Hips that are too wide and thighs too thick. Stomach too soft and face too round. I know what looks back at me in a mirror and I have never liked it. But sometimes, just sometimes, I forget for a few moments. Until someone like Nick takes it upon himself to remind me.

  “Stop touching me. Please.” The rasp of sadness in my voice embarrasses me. Defeat. Despair. Disgust.

  “Seems impossible since I started, Joy,” Nick’s voice too is thick and I wonder why before he presses against me, “Tell me what I just did. Why you want to bolt? Talk to me.” I laugh. It’s broken and pathetic to my ears but it’s almost a laugh.

  “Please don’t. Don’t be cruel. Life is cruel enough. Today especially.” I swipe an angry hand over my face to brush away tears I long ago thought I was done shedding.

  “Don’t know what I just did but I want to undo it. Come here.” Strong fingers dig into my flesh and tug me back against his heavy chest. Heat races through me when he presses his face into my neck as thick arms cross over my front to lock me against him.

  “What...what exactly are you doing?” Trembling words tumble out of my mouth as I feel hot wetness between my legs. Against my skin as he presses his mouth there.

  “Not sure yet. Just know I can’t let you walk out of here. Can’t keep my hands to myself once I touch you. Joy, I think you might be terribly confused about life.” I almost laugh again because his statement is off the wall. I don’t laugh. I whimper as his tongue traces the curve of my neck before a suck beneath my ear makes me shudder.

  “Am I? How so?” I find my hands lacing with his as they slip over the front of me, one beneath my breasts, the other skimming lower.

  “Life ain’t all bad. Take our situation. I model sometimes for cash so I can spoil my brother’s kids. You take photos to make people happy even though it doesn’t seem to make you happy at all. Today those things mean something.” I can’t focus on what they might mean because again I feel a thickness pressed to my ass as he shifts his big body, his mouth working at my skin between his husky words. Seems like a smart fella; not sure what this life lesson is about, though. Not that I mind how he’s teaching it.

  “What exactly do they mean, Santa?” I gasp as one hand cups my breast as the roaming one settles between my legs. His mouth is at my ear now, tongue and teeth nipping and driving me crazy.

  “Means you and me wind up at the same spot. Means today is not bad at all, Joy. Means I got to meet a sexy little elf who doubts she’s sexy at all. Clearly means you are confused as shit, babe. Because you might be the sexist elf I ever laid eyes on.” His teeth sink into my neck as his fingers shove beneath the striped tights that are now ruined. We both make a grunting sound as his fingers find out just why.

  “Fuck, Joy,” His mouth sucks and bites at my skin as his fingers slip between my wetness, “Been wondering all damn day
about this. Wondering if you felt it too. If you wanted me to touch you as badly as I wanted to. Fuck, you do. Let me baby.” I fall back against his chest as he does just that without waiting for me to answer.

  Thick fingers spread me open and waste no time finding a place to fit. I cry out as two fingers sink inside me as his palm rubs hard at my swollen clit. Nick grunts as his other hand shifts up to cup my jaw and twist my head. For a moment he watches my eyes before he swoops down.

  Down where I am waiting mouth first.

  Chapter Four

  A kiss is an underrated gift. At least a kiss laid on by Santa Nick.

  Because, damn, does he know how to kiss.

  Warm, soft lips crash into mine and swallow my moan. White-hot heat blooms from the press of his mouth to mine everywhere else in my body. Nick takes my mouth as if he has always owned it and just thought he’d remind us both.

  As his tongue licks over my lips, I open both my mouth and my thighs. Nick pumps his fingers with skill I never knew existed as his tongue tangles with mine. I hook my arm back around his neck, fingers tangling in his thick hair. Just a few strokes of his fingers—matched in perfect rhythm to his hungry tongue—and I am coming so hard I shiver in the sticky heat of Santa’s Shop.

  “Goddamn you taste fucking good, Joy,” Nick breathes against my mouth as his tongue swipes at my swollen lips, “Smell so fucking good I could feast on you and never go hungry.” I blink before flushing as I realize he means more than my mouth.

  As I gaze up at him, he brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks loud and long. Grunting, he bends his head and kisses me again, tasting of the wetness between my thighs. Just like that I am hot all over again. I twist to kiss him harder, deeper, and gasp as he lifts me against him.

  “Delicious. Sweet as candy, that tight little pussy. Fuck. Need to taste you coming on my tongue.” Positive I am about to wake up from my filthy fantasy to find myself alone, I cock my head curiously.