Bagging Santa's Elf by Sky Kayleigh

Author:Sky, Kayleigh [Sky, Kayleigh]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Kiss Drunk Books
Published: 2019-11-04T16:00:00+00:00

Wooing Santa’s Elf

Legs up the wazoo and pure grace.

Kyle sidled into the living room and turned in a circle as though he’d never seen the place.

Well, Kylie hadn’t.

“It’s small,” Kyle said.

“Cozy.”

“The furniture is old.”

“Vintage.”

A quick smile quirked Kyle’s lips before he bit the bottom one and folded his arms in front of him. His voice was soft and small. “Maybe you should let me go.”

“No,” said Vince. “It’s fate I drove by when I did. As though somebody had planned it.”

“You?”

“Well, that would be kind of… underhanded. Stalkerish even.”

The light from the lamp beside the door played on Kyle’s face, shadows sliding across his cheek and pooling in his eyes.

The strains of Christmas carols from outside drifted away.

Kyle shifted his gaze toward the door leading to the kitchen. “You should let me go.”

“I can’t,” Vince said. “You keep trying to get away, but I’m in this for good.”

Kyle made a beeline for the kitchen, but Vince jumped sideways in time for Kyle to collide with his chest and bounce back. Vince crowded into him, pushing him backwards. Tinsel-silver light glowed in Kyle’s eyes. He spun and ran down the hall, slamming the bedroom door behind him. Vince kicked out, connecting the bottom of his boot to the wood near the knob. The door flew open, smacked the wall, and slammed back into his upraised palm.

“Oh, my God,” Kyle whispered, fixing a stricken stare on him.

“I told you. I planned this. It’s just you and me now.”

“I-I… Are you crazy?”

“For you.”

Kyle’s lips tightened, repressing his smile too late to hide it.

“What are you going to do?”

“Watch you strip.”

Kyle’s quick intake of breath kicked Vince’s pulse up. The hairs on his arms rose, tickling him like… the feather boa Kyle wasn’t wearing. “You need one of those feather boas,” Vince said.

“Well, sorry,” Kyle said, “but this elf is a little too high class for a feather boa.”

“You don’t know what you’re missing.”

“I have my standards.”

“You could have used it to cover up while you strip for me.”

“I’m not doing that.”

“Oh, I think you are,” Vince said, his voice sounding like gravel in his throat. Kyle took a long, hitching breath that hit Vince deep in the balls. “Go on,” he murmured.

Chewing on his lip again, his eyes sultry heavy and shadowed in the light coming in from the hall, Kyle stepped back and reached for his Santa cap.

“No. Keep that on,” Vince said.

“Oh,” Kyle whispered.

He shrugged out of his jacket with not much grace but tugged slow and easy on his scarf. It slid as though it had morphed into the absent boa. Slinky, clinging to his neck until it slithered loose and fell at his feet. He kicked it away with the tip of his shoe, stretching his long leg out, knee slightly bent, the round curve of his hamstring begging for long, slow strokes from Vince’s hand.

His palm itching to touch, Vince swallowed with a painful spasm of the throat and murmured, “That’s right. Slow, baby. Make me want it.”

“You already want it.

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