Erik did not want to do the Christmas run. But, since it was either listen to Santa whining about the cold, or delivering the gifts – what choice did he have? He put on the red suit and drove not-so-merrily off into the night. Being mistaken for a thief and hit over the head with a crystal candlestick during the last delivery of the night did nothing to improve his mood.
He may have been Santa Claus’s son, but he was also an immortal Viking warrior. To be laid out cold – by a woman, no less! – was simply not acceptable. Getting his revenge would be fun, more so since she was a lawyer and willing to do pretty well anything to avoid being sued by the Claus family. And Erik had all sorts of interesting ideas about just what the green-eyed minx could do for him…
Hah!
He may have thought he was the big, strong warrior-man, but he had another think coming if he honestly thought she was completely powerless. What sort of brainless ninny did he think she was, anyway?
What sort of brainless ninny are you, anyway?
Oh my God, what was she doing? Encouraging him? Oh crap… bad move there.
Or was it?
Holly was staring into space, running the possibilities through her mind at lightning speed when his hands moved. He stood, lifting her easily, and tossed her casually face-down across the back of the chair he’d been leaning on. She was still gasping when her wrists were grabbed and pinned to either side of the chair.
“Woman, you need to learn to curb your impetuous behaviour.” She could feel his hips pressing into her back, driving her pelvis deeper into the cushion.
Forgetting his size, she tried to tug her wrists free then, when they didn’t budge an inch, she kicked backwards, hoping to knock his feet out from under him.
His chest was resting against her back, and she felt his deep chuckle rumble right through her, making her stomach flip. Moisture gathered between her thighs as her pussy readied itself. No matter what her independent, feminist brain was telling her, her body seemed to be stuck somewhere rather more mediaeval. Holly shivered and tried to clench her legs together. A large male thigh inserted itself between her legs, separating them, and she blushed. Pinned and spread-eagled, her cunt open and waiting for him…
Hot damn!
That little subconscious voice was really struggling now, but it was definitely fading into the background. Having this much hot, hard man pressed up against her, wanting her, was absolute bliss.
And it wasn’t like she was about to let a stranger fuck her – everyone knew Santa Claus so, by definition, everyone knew his son. Or something like that. Close enough, anyway.
