Santa Slays His Belle by Renee Kris

Author:Renee, Kris
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: anonymous
Published: 2023-11-23T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter six

Hells Bells

This woman will be his downfall.

The end of Sinterklaas. The expiration of Belsnickel. The of finale of Babbo Natale.

But in the best fucking way.

Kris can hear it now – breaking news across the globe: “Santa Claus found unresponsive on the floor of a ravishingly knockout of a broad due to a dickstroke that took his life. He died a smiling, delighted man.”

One kiss isn’t enough. Kris isn’t sure a thousand would sate the growing appetite gnawing at his insides.

Speaking of insides, his cock is expanding to explosive levels beseeching him to propel deep within her for detonation. Immediately.

But, if he doesn’t slow his roll, he’ll wind up blowing his load as efficiently as that prickhead Dasher passes noxious gas. And he isn’t sure how many go-rounds he will get on this Merry ride, so he wants – he needs – to make this good for both of them.

Her lids remain closed, and her gorgeous, mounded chest heaves as Kris moves around her and sits on the sofa. He grunts at the hard piece of furniture. This thing is a piece of shit. It croaks unsteadily with its weight and feels like it’s stuffed with half a box of tissues – not the heavy, lotion-infused kind, either. He grimaces in disgust. The atrocity belongs in the Grinch’s lair, not underneath his snow angel.

She catches him judging her couch, but being the good girl she is, she doesn’t admonish him.

He smiles. Removing his sunglasses from their perch at his neck, he tosses them across the room and pats his leg, “Sit .”

“Okay, Santa.” She doesn’t leap onto him (not that he’d have taken issue with that), but she also doesn’t hesitate to sit her soft, ample ass on his lap.

“You can call me Kris, angel.” The baby doll even allows him to manipulate her legs over his own and pull her back until she’s flat against his chest. Slouching his large body into the cushions, he spreads his legs – pushing hers apart impossibly wide, leaving him plenty of room to work with his tools. “Now, tell me, angelic Belle,” running his nose around her ear, he dips his hand under the waistband of her jeans, popping the button and lowering the fly with a few flicks of his thumb and forefinger. The restrictive space between his hand and the seam of her pants is sizzling hot. Swirling his finger in her juice, he slicks his way up her wet folds, and he asks her the one thing he’s been eager to know. “Have you been a good girl?”

Belle whimpers and undulates her hips in an attempt to make his fingers work harder. But Kris has always been a proponent of working smarter. Instead of giving her what she thinks she wants, he nips her ear, pinches her clit, and growls the question again in her ear.

She throws her head back on his shoulder and screams out her answer in abandon. “Yes!”

He chuckles. Of course, she has. To reward her, he massages her pussy.

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