He tossed the wig and beard into the back seat and leaned over to kiss me. Warm, soft lips pressed mine apart, and his tongue pushed into my mouth. Even just a kiss was enough to make my toes curl in my boots, and I reached up to dig my fingers into the plush fur of his red coat, losing myself in the scent and taste of him.
“Nice,” he breathed when we finally broke apart. “Very, very nice, Marie.”
He leaned in to kiss me again, but I pulled back, frowning. “You know my name. Did Shelly put you up to this?”
“No.” He tipped my chin up, commanding another kiss. “I know your name because I’m Santa Claus.”
When we broke apart again, my heart was racing, my cunt ached, and I mostly didn’t care if he was crazy, but I still had to ask. “Santa Claus? You don’t look like a jolly old elf.”
“Well, I’m Nick, at least.” He started kissing down the side of my throat. “And you’re Marie. Your boyfriend dumped you, you lost your job, and you’re very tired of being a good girl.”
“Shelly did put you up to this!”
“Does it matter, so long as I can make your Christmas wishes come true?” He cupped one breast, his touch dulled and muted by my jacket. “I can take you home if you want, but I can think of a lot of things I’d much rather do.”