Crave: Wicked Desires

Tinsel shimmered in the dim light, the golden strands hanging from the pine garlands that lined the room. They cast soft glows on the polished wood of Santa’s desk, where a single red folder sat, the word “Naughty” stamped on the front in bold, red letters.

Evie stared at it, swallowing hard as heat crept up her neck. This wasn’t how she’d expected her night to go.

When she’d clocked into her shift at the workshop earlier, she’d thought the worst she’d deal with was the endless screech of the conveyor belts and the headache-inducing jingle that played on repeat. But somehow, she’d been careless—again—and now she was standing here, in his office.

Santa’s office.

Her hands clenched at her sides, her fingers twitching with a mix of nerves and excitement. She should be terrified. Santa wasn’t the rosy-cheeked grandfather that kids imagined. Not up close, anyway.

No, he was commanding. Dangerous. And when he looked at her with those dark, knowing eyes, she couldn’t decide whether she wanted to run… or drop to her knees.

The door creaked open behind her, and Evie stiffened.

“Evie.”

That voice. Deep, smooth, and laced with authority. It sent a shiver down her spine as her name rolled off his tongue.

She turned slowly, her pulse quickening. Santa Claus—or Nick, as he insisted the staff call him—wasn’t dressed in his usual festive red tonight. His black slacks clung to his muscular thighs, and the white shirt he wore was rolled up at the sleeves, exposing tanned forearms dusted with white hair. He wasn’t smiling.

Her gaze darted to his hands, strong and, one of them gripping a clipboard. The other… empty, but she could imagine it holding things far more dangerous than a pen.

“I see you’ve been busy,” he said, closing the door with a soft click.

“I—uh—” Evie’s throat went dry as she tried to speak. “It was just a little mistake.”

His brow arched, and she felt her knees go weak.

“Is that what you call it?” He stalked closer, each step deliberate, his gaze locking her in place. “A little mistake that cost us nine thousand toys?”

Her cheeks burned. “I-I didn’t mean to—”

“Didn’t mean to what?” He stopped in front of her, so close she could smell the faint hint of cedar and spice clinging to him. “Slack off? Ignore your duties? Leave the workshop in chaos while you wandered off to—what was it?”

Evie’s lips parted, but she didn’t dare answer. He already knew. Of course, he knew.

Nick stepped even closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over her. “You think just because you’re my favorite, you can get away with anything, don’t you?”

Her breath hitched.

“Answer me.” His voice was low, firm.

“I—” she stammered, her heart hammering against her ribs. “I didn’t think you’d notice.”

A ghost of a smile curved his lips, but it wasn’t kind. “Oh, I noticed.” He reached out, brushing a strand of her dark hair behind her ear. The touch was deceptively gentle, and it made her shiver. “I notice everything, Evie.”

Her knees threatened to give out.

“Do you know what happens to naughty elves?” he murmured, his fingers trailing down her neck, lingering just long enough to make her skin tingle.

She shook her head, her voice a whisper. “No, sir.”

His eyes gleamed, and that faint smile turned wicked.

“You’re about to find out.”

Evie's breath hitched as Nick's threw the board and pen to the side, pushing her back untill her ass was pressed against his desk. His hands splayed against her thighs, his rough palms brushing the soft, sensitive skin.

“N-Nick?” She stammered, confused and surprisingly hot.

The skirt of her green dress was bunched at her hips now, leaving her exposed except for the lacy red panties she'd worn—a daring choice she never thought anyone would see.

Nick let out a low, appreciative hum. "You dressed for me, didn't you?"

Her cheeks burned. "I didn't—"

"Lying again," he interrupted, his tone sharper. His fingers trailed over the red lace, teasing the edges of her pussy, making her squirm.

"You wanted me to see this. To see you."

"I.." Her protest died in her throat as he tugged the panties aside, his knuckles grazing her slick heat and her cheeks butned red.

Nick chuckled, low and wicked. "Already wet for me. Of course you are,"

Evie whimpered, gripping the edges of the desk to steady herself. She wanted to deny it, to tell him this wasn't what she'd been planning—but her body betrayed her, hips tilting toward his hand, her entire body was screaming yes, yes, please.

He pulled her to her feet and turned her towards the desk, the folder named Naughty, staring back at her. "Stay still,” he ordered, his voice rough and commanding.

She froze, her heart pounding as he stepped away, the sudden absence of his touch leaving her aching. She glanced over her shoulder, desperate to see what he was doing, but his sharp voice stopped her.

"Eyes forward."

Evie snapped her gaze back to the desk, her cheeks heating as she heard the metallic clink of a buckle. Seconds later, something soft yet firm looped around her wrists.

"W-what are you doing, Santa?" she stammered, testing the restraint.

Nick leaned over her, his white beard tickling her neck, his breath warm against her ear. "Teaching you to behave."

Her stomach flipped as the leather belt tightened, binding her wrists securely together and she couldn't hold the soft moan that escaped her lips.

"You like this, don't you?" he murmured, his fingers trailing down her spine. "Being helpless. Being at my mercy."

Evie swallowed hard, her lips parting to answer, but all that came out was a breathless "Yes."

Nick's hand came down on her clothed ass with a sharp crack, and she gasped, the sting turning into a delicious heat.

"That's for lying to me," he said, his voice calm and smooth. Another slap followed, harder this time, making her cry out. "And that's for wasting my time in the workshop, fixing your mistakes."

"I'm sorry," she whimpered, though the throbbing ache between her legs betrayed her because she wasn’t anywhere close to being sorry.

"Are you?" He stepped closer, turning her to face him and his hand moving her green dress up and soothing the stinging flesh with slow, deliberate strokes. "Or are you just sorry you got caught?"

Evie's answer was lost in a gasp as his fingers slid lower, parting her folds and teasing the slick pussy he found there.

"Such a needy little elf," he murmured, his voice filled with mockery. "You want this, don't you? You want to be punished."

"Yes," she admitted, her voice breaking. "Please."

Nick's laugh was low and wicked. "Good girl."

Nick's fingers stayed, stroking her pussy in slow, teasing motions that left her trembling. He spread her apart with one large hand, exposing her completely, as if he owned every inch of her body—maybe he did.

"Look at you," he murmured, his voice thick with approval. "So ready for me. You've been waiting for this, haven't you?"

Evie moaned softly, the sound leaving her lips before she could stop it.

“I asked you a question," Nick said, his fingers sliding up to brush her clit. He applied just enough pressure to make her hips jerk, but not enough to give her relief.

"Yes," she gasped, desperate for more. “I've been waiting."

He rewarded her honesty with a single, delicious stroke of his fingers, slipping one inside her tight hole. Her body clenched around him, needy and wanting, and he groaned low in his throat.

"Such a tight little elf," he grunted behind her. "You've been hiding this from me all year."

Evie whimpered, her bound hands gripping the edge of the desk for support as he added a second finger, stretching her slowly. The rhythm he set was torture—slow, almost lazy, but enough to drive her wild.

"I could spend hours just watching you fall apart," Nick said, his voice husky. "But I think you've earned a little more."

He withdrew his fingers abruptly, and Evie groaned in frustration, her body trembling with need. But before she could protest, she heard the soft sound of his zipper.

Nick’s hand reached out, grabbing the thin strap of Evie’s green dress. “You won’t be needing this anymore.”