Click to Preview via Amazon

Sitting on Santa’s Lap

Holiday Sweets – 2

Cordova Skye




Apple iBooks  Amazon

Barnes & Noble  Kobo  Excitica


I’ve never been a Scrooge, but it’s hard to find the Christmas spirit when your boyfriend and your job dump you on the same day. My best friend Shelly thinks she has a better cure for my holiday blues than a cookie binge, though: a trip to the local park’s Winter Wonderland, complete with a visit to jolly St. Nick.

I don’t have high expectations, but when I sit on Santa’s lap, I discover he’s packing more than a bowl full of jelly under his red suit. And his name may be Nick, but he’s no saint.

I’m eager for him to work his Christmas magic on my fertile young body, and before I know it, my belly’s bulging with the best present I could ever receive.

This erotic short is nearly 6000 words of sizzling holiday impregnation magic and accelerated pregnancy.


Once in the car, though, the wig and beard came off, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Santa was mid-twenties, dark haired and dark eyed, and his strong jaw assured me that the padding under his suit really was padding.

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.”