Santa’s Naughty Elf: A Santa’s Coming Short Story Read online

  Copyright © 2018 by Tracy Lorraine

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover and formatting by Dandelion Cover Designs

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Santa’s Coming…

  Book Hangover Lounge

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  About the Author

  Also by Tracy Lorraine

  Sneak peak

  Chasing Logan

  Chasing Logan

  Turning off the little Christmas tree on my desk and clearing the files and papers from it, excitement rushes through me. The second I walk out of here, Christmas officially begins. Tonight is our office party, then I’m heading to my parents' house first thing in the morning. It’s my favourite time of the year. I love being surrounded by my family, twinkling decorations, and best of all…my boss will be nowhere in sight. In reality, it might only be for a few short days, but I can’t wait to not have to hear him barking orders at me and getting under my skin.

  “Kerry.” Gets called from his office—it’s as if he can read my mind. “Bob says he hasn’t received the minutes from this morning’s meeting yet.”

  Blowing out a long breath, I try to dampen down my growing irritation that threatens to kill my Christmas spirit.

  Ignoring the fact he once again says my name incorrectly, I shout back. “I was going to send it out first thing in the New Year…Sir.” I mutter the last word quietly to myself.

  “Kerry, get in here. You know I hate shouting.”

  Groaning, I shove my chair out behind me, smoothing my skirt down and straightening my blouse as I walk towards his door.

  “Yes, Sir.” I keep my eyes locked on his desk for a few seconds, but when he doesn’t respond I’m forced to look up at him. My boss might be an arsehole, but fuck, he’s a beautiful arsehole. The second I find his angry emerald eyes staring daggers at me, my breath catches and I feel slight tingles in places I really shouldn’t. It’s been this way since the day he stormed in and transformed my life with his unreasonable demands, stupid hours, and full, kissable lips.

  Fuck. I’m staring.

  “I said I needed those minutes out ASAP. Why haven’t you done them?” he asks, thankfully oblivious to the fact he affects me like he always does. Hell, I don’t think he’s even realised I’m a woman. Every time he looks at me, it’s like he sees straight through me.

  “Bob said the New Year was fine,” I argue.

  “Bob’s not your boss.” Bob’s also not a dickhead. “I need them in the next two hours. I’m planning on spending the holidays looking at that account.”

  “I was just leaving to get ready for the Christmas party.” Placing his palms on his desk and leaning forward, he stares at me as if to say, ‘And that’s my problem, why?’

  “I’ll do them now then, shall I?”

  “I think that’s a good idea, Kerry.”

  My entire body flushes with anger as I turn and march from his office. I had plans for tonight. None of which involved getting ready for our office party in the bloody toilets.

  Knowing he’s probably going to follow me out to ensure I follow orders, I power my computer back up and pull my notebook from my drawer.

  I’m just about to open the program I need when I feel his stare burning into me. Glancing over my shoulder, I find him leaning against the doorframe to his office with his shirt sleeves rolled up and his hands in his trouser pockets. My eyes drop briefly to where the fabric is stretched tightly across his crotch, and my cheeks heat when I realise he’s watching my every move.

  “I haven’t got all night,” he barks, pushing off the wall and marching across the room.

  Leaning forward, I drop my forehead to the desk. This was not how tonight was supposed to go.

  I allow myself thirty seconds to wallow in self-pity before I pull my phone from my bag and text my best friend to tell her I’ve got to cancel our plans to get ready for tonight at her place. We were planning a chilled-out few hours filled with Christmas songs and Prosecco before heading back here to get the party started. But Jordan fucking Hunter just put an end to that.

  * * *

  “Oh my god, Cerys. That dress is incredible. I’m not sure the hat really does it any justice.” Her eyes drop down over the dark green lace that hugs my body like a second skin. It was a bit of an extravagant purchase, but I fell in love with it the second I walked into the shop. The lacework is so fine and the fabric feels so good against my skin.

  “I need a drink,” I announce as I walk towards Victoria. I don’t feel half as good as I should right now after getting ready in the disabled toilets. This dress deserves much better treatment than that.

  “What happened?”

  “Jordan happened,” I say, flagging down the waiter carrying a tray full of bubbles around the function room we’re having tonight’s party in.

  “Why the hell do you stay if he’s that much of an arsehole?”

  “I love my job,” I say, like I do every time we have this conversation.

  “No, you loved your job when Mark was your boss.” I think back to Jordan’s predecessor, the one who gave me the job. He was an incredible boss, so thoughtful and kind. Nothing was ever too much to ask of him. He never would have allowed me to stay late on the last working day of the year. His replacement, however…I think his only good attribute might be his looks.

  “I still love my job. He’s not that bad, really.”

  “So I don’t need to ask if you still want to bang him then.”

  “Vic, shh…” Looking around, I make sure we’re not being overheard.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  “I’m not going to sleep with him. Even if he was interested, which he’s not. Can you imagine how hard he would be to work with after something like that?”

  “I don’t know. The orgasms he could supply might soften the blow.” Vic shrugs, lifting her glass up to her lips.

  “Sooo…how are things with you? The guys ready for America?” Victoria manages Chase, one of the artists we represent.

  “Yeah, I’m pretty sure they’re going to smash it. The market over there is just begging for an incredible British singer/songwriter.” She chats away about the guys and what they’re up to, but I struggle to concentrate as I look around the room at our colleagues, along with some of the other artists the company represents. Most people would probably be a little starstruck at the guest list, but this kind of thing soon becomes normal life when you work with them all on a daily basis.

  “What poor sod do you think they convinced to be Santa this year?” she asks, nodding over to the other side of the room where someone who’s dressed all in red rummages through a giant sack of presents. It’s a tradition that the whole office does Secret Santa. Each year, everyone’s names get put into a hat and some lucky person has to spend the entire party handing out the gifts.

  “I’m just glad it’s not me,” I say, draining my third—or fourth?—glass of Prosecco.

  “Your time will come,” she says with a laugh. “I wonder what outstanding presents we’ll get this year.”

  “Knowing my luck, I’ll have Sally from the copy room again and another cat calendar.”

  Victoria bursts out laughing as she remembers the look on my face when I opened said present las
t year. Everyone knows I’m a dog person…everyone. But sitting on my desk next to my computer is that damn cat calendar because Victoria and a few others said it was mean of me to bin it and buy myself another. So, every bloody day I get to sit at my desk with a little furball taunting me.

  “Your luck might run out this year, just you wait and see.”

  “Nah, for some reason people just always buy me awesome presents.”

  “Stop bragging.”

  The evening is exactly as I was expecting. We drink, eat, and party the night away. I keep expecting Santa to head my way and hand over my present, but it never happens.

  When Santa intercepts Victoria on the way back from the ladies room, I almost piss myself laughing when she pulls out a pair of giant control-top knickers. “I told you your luck was due to run out.”

  “Just wait and see. I guarantee yours will be worse.”

  She’s probably right, but I don’t say anything. Instead, we get dragged into conversations about our Christmas plans with some of our colleagues. Excitement tickles at my belly as I talk about heading back home to Wales to spend time with my family. I love London. It’s somewhere I always wanted to live and work growing up, but there’s something about heading home to the countryside with the snow-topped hills and the decorated farmhouses dotted about that I just love this time of year. There’s nothing better than sitting in my parents’ bay window next to the tree with a mug of steaming hot chocolate, staring out across the frozen fields beyond.

  “Aw, I’m going to miss you,” Vic slurs.

  “You won’t even notice. I’ll be back on New Year’s Day, ready for work to start.”

  Everyone’s excited chatter continues, but my phone vibrating in my clutch drags me away.

  Staring down, it’s not what I am expecting to see.

  Jordan Hunter: Get up here now.

  “Is he for fucking real?” Vic squeals in my ear, reading over my shoulder. “It’s a fucking party and he wants you to go and do some work.”

  “You need to lay off the booze. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  “He’s got you right where he wants you, hasn’t he?”

  “Get her a glass of water,” I say to the waiter approaching our little group. Grabbing my glass and turning away from Victoria’s death glare, I make my way over to the lifts that will take me to the floor above. I curse Jordan’s name the whole way up.

  How dare he ruin this night for me with his stupid demands and inappropriate requests?

  “Fucking wanker,” I mutter, heading towards the only light that’s on in the distance.

  The second I step foot in his office, all thoughts fall from my mind in favour of enjoying what’s before me.

  Jordan’s sitting with his arse on the edge of his desk, dressed in none other than a Santa costume, although he’s lost the hat and beard and has the front of the jacket undone, giving me one incredible view of the muscles partly obscured beneath it.

  “Wha…uh…did you…shit.”

  “There’s one present left in my sack,” he drawls, his gaze dropping from mine. His eyes burn a trail down my body and leave tingles behind in their wake. “It’s addressed to a naughty little elf, so I guess it’s for you.” His eyes flit up to the hat perched on my head.

  “What’s going on?” I ask, confusion getting the better of me. I was expecting him to demand I do some last minute work or find a document that he can’t be bothered to look for himself.

  Not one single part of me was expecting to find him like this.

  Pushing himself from the desk, he stalks over and plucks the glass from my fingers before swallowing down the contents. His scent fills my nose and lust shoots straight to my core. He’s so close that I can feel his body heat radiating from him.

  Reaching up, he gently pushes a lock of my curled dark hair behind my ear. I suck in a gasp of surprise as his fingertip brushes my cheek.

  “But…I…” I stutter like an idiot. I must be imagining this because no matter how many times I’ve fantasised about something like this happening in his office, I truly believed he didn’t really know I existed, beyond being his skivvy.

  “I wanted to give you your Christmas present.” His breath fans my face and my mouth waters. His eyes drop from mine in favour of my lips, and my insides clench in anticipation. “But this fucking dress,” he whispers a second before his lips land on mine.

  His hands slide up into my hair and we stumble back until I hit the wall. I’m vaguely aware of the door being slammed shut as his tongue forces its way inside my mouth. Mine eagerly tangles with his, my hands finding the hot, taut skin of his waist.

  His kiss is exactly as I imagined it to be. Soft but firm, demanding yet teasing. His moan of approval vibrates through me as his hands descend down my body. They run over my shoulders, breasts, and waist before he squeezes my arse and presses me up against him. I feel his arousal pressing into my stomach and my core floods with heat.

  “Do you have any idea how long I’ve dreamt of this?” he asks, his lips trailing down my neck.

  “Oh shit,” I moan as he sucks on my skin, a slow throb starting between my legs. “You don’t…” I start, but when his fingers find the zip at the back of my dress, I lose my train of thought.

  “I don’t what?” He stares into my eyes and I fight the need to look away when it feels like he’s seeing more than I want him to. He must see my hesitation because his hand comes up and cups my cheek, keeping it in place.

  “You don’t like me.” The smile that spreads across his face isn’t what I’m expecting. It knocks me on my arse.

  “That is so not true.”

  You don’t even know my name, I think when his lips come back to mine and he starts lowering the zip at my back.

  He peels the lace from my body like he’s unwrapping a precious present. His eyes follow the fabric like he can’t bear to miss an inch of my skin. Before I know it, I’m standing in only my red lace lingerie, heels, and the damn elf hat.

  “Now that is a Christmas present,” he says to himself, stepping back from me, appreciating the view.

  Slipping the Santa jacket from his shoulders, he allows it to pool at his feet, giving me more of his tanned, muscular body to feast my eyes on. I see his arousal clearly through the thin fabric of his trousers, but when he hooks his thumbs into the waistband and pushes, I don’t expect to find him going commando underneath.

  “A little inappropriate, don’t you think?”

  “The only person I want sitting on my lap is you.” My cheeks heat and my knickers get even more damp, if that’s even possible, at the image that pops into my head.

  “You want a drink?” he asks, dragging my mind from the gutter.

  “Yes,” I agree a little too eagerly, making him laugh.

  He pulls a bottle of champagne and two glasses from behind his desk and pops the top.

  “Wow, was I a sure thing?” I feel a little ridiculous standing in my boss’s office in just my underwear. We’ve had enough employees here over the years who’ve tried to sleep their way to the top, something I’ve always refused to do. I met my ex through work and learnt my lesson as far as that was concerned.

  “Not at all.” His eyes drop to my breasts, spilling out from the confines of my strapless bra. “No matter what happened, I thought we could have a Christmas toast.”

  “Right.”

  “So skeptical,” he murmurs, handing me a glass and clinking his own to it. Standing so close that I can feel his breath tickle down my neck, he whispers, “I’ve wanted to know what you’d look like on my desk since the first day I walked into this office.”

  I swallow harshly, trying to shake away the vision that my mind conjures up.

  “I’ve wanted to know how you taste. How soft your skin is. If you’ll follow orders just as well in the bedroom as you do in the office.”

  Biting down on my bottom lip, I try to find some words to respond with but the desire racing through my body is the only thing I can focus on. I
want all the things he’s just mentioned.

  With our eyes locked on each other, Jordan plucks the glass from my hand, and the sound of him placing them both on the shelf by my head fills the room.

  Then, he’s on me.

  His hands are everywhere and his tongue explores every inch of my mouth. His fingers pinch the clasp of my bra, and before I know what’s happening it’s on the floor and my breasts fill the palms of his hands before he rips his lips from mine and sucks one of my nipples into his mouth.

  “Fuck,” I breathe, my head falling against the wall with a thud.

  His hands skim past the skin of my hips before the warmth of his palms burns my thighs as he lifts me. My legs wrap around his waist, allowing him to carry me towards his desk.

  I suck in a breath as my heated skin hits the coldness of the wood. His lips come back to mine and he encourages me to lie back. His kiss is all-consuming, making me forget where we are, making me focus solely on him and what I need.

  Before long, he’s standing between my open thighs with a look of awe I don’t think I’ve ever seen on his face before. His eyes travel down from mine and take in every inch of me once again. My insides clench and I can’t help shamelessly arching my back as his eyes wander over my breasts.

  “Jordan, please,” I moan. If I wasn’t so desperate, I think I might be embarrassed by my porn star worthy voice.

  “All in good time. I’ve waited forever for this, so I want to savour you.”

  His fingers wrap around the lace at my hips and he starts pulling my damp knickers down my thighs before allowing them to drop from my feet.

  “I’ve discovered how soft your skin is, now let's find out if you’re as sweet as I’ve always imagined.”

  Dropping to his knees in front of me, I watch as he lowers his face. His breath hits my sensitive skin and I almost jump from the desk. It’s been quite a while since I’ve had a man down there.