Never Kiss A Man In A Christmas Sweater Novels & Stories

Santa's hands slid down, cupping her full breasts through the fabric, thumbs circling her nipples until they peaked, hard and aching. Dory's breath hitched, a moan escaping as she turned her head to capture Santa's mouth. His beard tickled her skin, the kiss deep and claiming, tongue sweeping in like he owned her secrets. Jingle knelt, yanking her skirt up and panties down in one tug, exposing her pale ass and the slick folds of her pussy, already glistening in the firelight.

"All of us." Charlotte hesitates, looking down, then up again. Then she breaks into a smile and sucking her lips, nods. Taking two steps towards Klempner, she says, "Happy Christmas, Father..." She swallows. "... Dad. Thank you for the gift." For the space of a heartbeat... two... three... time stops... Then Klempner wraps his arms around Charlotte and kisses the top of her head. "Happy Christmas, Jenny." She rests her head against his shoulder for a long moment, then pulls free and jabs a finger at his chest. "But you have to wear the sweater today." She turns to James, then Michael. "You two as well."

Before I could ask what kind of punishment she meant, a loud chime echoed through the air, ringing like a bell that sent the entire crowd into a frenzy. Laughter and cheers erupted around me as the creatures began pairing off, pulling strangers into sudden, unexpected kisses. Some were soft and shy, others were wild and passionate, but all were met with applause or playful whistles. I backed away, trying to slip through the throng of people, but hands brushed against my arms, gentle yet firm, as if encouraging me to stay. “Come on, love, don’t be shy,” someone crooned behind me. I whirled around to find a man with fox-like features grinning down at me. His amber eyes shimmered with amusement

– He moved his eyebrows suggestively, before pressing his lips to her ear, with a hoarse and lascivious tone – Now… If you liked your gifts, how about thanking your good old man? - I don't know about the old man… – she laughed softly, before starting to remove his sweater over his shirt, exposing his well defined chest to her – But I would really love to talk a little with my Santa Claus… And thank you…” She sighed, rolling her hips over the growing erection in his pants. -You can talk, young lady ... - he caressed her breasts over her favorite sweater, patterned with stars, before starting to undo the buttons – Did you like your gifts? Good girls always get too many gifts...

"I saw you naked... and you're so hot... I'm just being awkward. I'll shut up." I couldn't help but laugh. Jax was rarely thrown off; I loved that I had that kind of power over him sometimes. I pulled my festive sweatshirt over my head. "You can turn around now. I'm clothed." He turned around slowly as if he didn't believe me. Once he realized I was, indeed, clothed, his eyes hovered on my sweatshirt. It had a portrait of Santa holding a white claw on it. "Santa Claws?" Jax asked, "Where did you get that?"

He steps back just enough to speak without touching me. “I need you at dinner tonight.” “Why?” He studies me for a long, unbearable moment. “Wear the red sweater.” My pulse stutters. “Okay?” “And no bra.” My soul leaves my body. For a full five seconds, I forget how breathing works. He turns away like he didn’t just drop a live grenade into my bloodstream. “Jace…” “Seven o’clock,” he says without looking back. “Don’t be late.” Then he leaves the kitchen.

Next stop: some overly festive Christmas boutique that smells like peppermint candles and corporate joy. I grab a handful of sweaters, mostly because they’re soft and slightly see-through. Nick follows behind me like a bodyguard who’s overqualified and underpaid. “You’re really gonna try all of those on?” he asks, eyeing my stack. I smile. “You don’t have to wait.” He looks at me. Doesn’t blink. “Yeah. I do.” Ten minutes later, he’s slouched on a bench outside the dressing room, arms crossed, hood up like he’s hiding from God.

he exclaimed, taking hold of my hand and placing a gentle kiss on the back of it. Confusion washed over me as I tried to process the situation. What was happening? However, Aaron’s demeanor quickly changed. His voice turned menacing as he addressed the man. “Mr. Crimson,” he growled, “do you want me to cut your lips off right now?” Startled, the man immediately released my hand, his voice filled with apologies. “I’m so sorry for kissing the back of your wife’s hand. Please, enjoy your shopping!” he exclaimed, hastily retreating from our presence.

Winter, wearing a sexy, revealing lace nightdress, was busy kissing the living daylights out of a young man as she backed him against the couch. Winter's hand was freely roaming under the young man's clothes, revealing part of his abdominal muscles. The young man returned Winter's kisses earnestly, leaving red hickeys on her neck. It was plain that they were lost in their own little world before the lights had turned on. Winter was startled when the sudden light shone into her eyes. She looked rather confused as she tried to stop the man from continuing to chase after her lips. "Oh, it's you, Mimi. You're back."

And when I looked in the mirror… I didn’t hate it. That was a small victory. I stepped out. Mariah’s eyes widened. “Jess.” “What?” I asked nervously. She pointed at me dramatically. “That sweater was made for you. You look like the main character in a Christmas movie.” I huffed. “Do I look like I’m about to bake cookies and fall in love with a small-town carpenter?” “Yes,” she said immediately. “And Noah Carter would absolutely be the carpenter.” I shoved her shoulder, laughing.