Naughty List Read Free Page B

ignore the breathless and needy quality of her voice.
    “Tonight I’m Santa.”
    She almost purred at the domination in his words, demanding she submit to his Christmas ploy. The wind of his whisper brushed her ear, his warm breath shivering down her spine.
    “I’m here to make all your Christmas wishes come true.”
    His forearms, elbows, and wrists brushed against her body as he wrapped the ribbon across her torso. Her nipples tightened. The pressure of the restraints surrounding her breasts stimulated them to heightened sensitivity, full and achy against the cotton of her tank top.
    A crinkle and stiff tug told her he’d knotted the ribbon, the loose end tickling the back of her neck. Callie twisted her arms, the velvet burning along her body as she pulled against it, shifting in a futile fight against the soft ribbon.
    Callie searched her mind, trying to understand what had brought about this change in Eric. This was so unlike him. She wanted to be upset, to scream at him for scaring her, but the tight coiling sensation in her stomach prevented her protests. She wanted him here, wanted him holding her, commanding her. It was the fantasy that kept her awake before she’d fallen into a fitful Christmas Eve sleep, to be roused by a naughty Santa.
    “Come here and sit on Santa’s lap and tell me what you want for Christmas.”
    He braced a hand on either side of her ribs, slowly leading her forward through the open bedroom door. He pushed her past the bed, his grip tightening, demonstrating she had no room to move, no choice but to comply. Wetness gathered between her legs, her entire body shaking beneath his grasp.
    How could this be her friend? The man she leaned on, the shoulder she cried on. The same guy who’d swept her off to the movies for nine straight hours the day Josh’s indiscretion was revealed, refusing to let her watch the news unfold. Now he’d stolen into her home in the dead of night, making her wet, needy, and so aroused she wanted to push him down on the bed, mount him, and ride him all night.
    The bedsprings creaked as he dropped to the mattress, the fabric of his Santa suit crinkling across his lap. He slid his hands down her body, hovering along the curve of her hips. The heat of his palms soaked into her skin, traveling along her nerves in streaks of hot electricity.
    He gripped her hard as he pulled her into his lap. His fingers were almost bruising, yet arousing at the same time. The masculine scent of him, of pine and leather and spicy man, overwhelmed her. His thighs were thick and hard beneath her bottom. She shifted slightly on his lap, the hard bulge between his legs burning wherever it grazed her body. He was just as aroused as she was.
    He swept the hair back from her temple, stroking her shoulders as he brushed away her auburn curls to whisper into her ear. “Have you been a good girl this year?” He petted her thighs, the muscles quivering beneath his touch. Wetness dripped between her legs as he held her, arms imprisoned, unable to return the caress.
    She turned her head to look at him, drinking in every glimpse the moonlight afforded her. “I’ve been good.” That’s what everyone told Santa. No one admits to Santa they deserve a lump of coal. But if the lump pressing into her upper thigh would end up in her stocking, maybe she’d change her answer.
    A large smile spread across his sensuous lips. His eyes dark, clouded with lust that sizzled along her body, like chestnuts roasting on an open fire. “I don’t think so. I have you recorded on my naughty list.”
    Her head swam at the deep, husky tone of his words.
    “I haven’t been bad.” She’d been depressingly, boringly good. Far better than she’d wanted to be.
    “Really?” His eyebrow quirked, his blue eyes alight with mischief.
    A lock of licorice-black hair dropped across his forehead. She clenched her fingers together. The urge to comb the smooth, silky strands back into place tingled along the pads. She