I look around the kitchen, assessing my work so far.

“Not bad.”

I mentally check off the remaining items.

“Only the borscht and dried-fruit compote left, and we’re done" 🙂

I smile, satisfied.

I still have a bit of time to clean up this mess and get myself together.

Marcin will be home late.

As every year, he’s playing Santa Claus.

In our neighborhood, we have this tradition that on the evening before Christmas Eve, one of the neighbors goes from house to house, handing out presents to the children.

Supposedly fun for everyone, but it’s usually my husband who dresses up and puts in overtime.

I don’t question it, even though it annoys me.

But if he likes it…

I’m standing by the table, covered with iced gingerbread cookies, when suddenly I feel it.

Strong, masculine hands wrapping around my waist.

I stiffen for a moment.

“Have you been a good girl this year?” a low voice whispers into my ear.

I feel him pressing against my body.

I relax instantly and smile to myself.

“No, Santa.”

“Oh, that’s not good,” his hand slides to my ass. “How often were you naughty?”

His hand moves down, grabbing my skirt and lifting it up.

A pleasant shiver runs through my body.

“Very often,” I sigh.

His fingers lazily glide along my thigh.

“Then we’ll have to do something about it.”

He gives me a light slap, and I flinch in surprise.

“Do we really have to?” I whimper.

He caresses my ass. My breathing quickens. He slips a finger between.

He grabs my thong and tugs it lightly.

A soft moan escapes my throat as the fabric digs into my sensitive spot. With a decisive motion, he tears them off me, and I squeal in shock.

“You leave me no choice,” he replies in a stern tone.

He knocks all the cookies onto the floor.

I don’t even have time to protest when his strong hand forces me to bend over the table.

He presses my head against the cool countertop and pulls down my skirt with the other hand.

I’m half-naked.

He kneels behind me.

I feel his hot lips burning against my skin. He slips out his wet tongue, burying it between my legs.

I moan loudly with him beneath me.

“I want to feel you closer,” he growls, aroused.

His directness leaves me stunned.

I flush with a burning blush, even though I know the suggestion hit exactly where it should.

I resist for a moment - until the resistance completely disappears.

He grips my ass and buries his face between my legs.

He teases my entrance with the tip of his tongue.

Plays with it. Slowly.

Tests me.

Checks how much more he can allow himself.

I feel a hot current shoot through my lower belly.

It feels good - very good.

I start rocking my hips rhythmically, moaning loudly and begging him for more.

He goes deeper, faster.

I brace my hands against the countertop as my legs turn soft as cotton beneath me.

He brushes my sensitive spot with his heated tip, and I explode, losing control. Waves of pleasant heat flood my body, and I moan, letting the sensation consume me completely.

I press my face to the countertop, calming my trembling breath.

Santa stands up and mutters under his breath.

“See you next year, baby.”

I hear him leave, slamming the door behind him.

I straighten up, still dazed by what just happened.

“What came over him?” flashes through my mind as I walk toward the bathroom.

✦ ✦ ✦

I’m coming down the stairs, drying my wet hair with a towel, when Marcin walks into the house.

“Hey! Why so early?” I ask, surprised.

“Ahh, I managed to slip away sooner,” he answers, pleased.

I look at him with sparkling eyes.

“Hmmm. Just admit it - Santa missed me.”

“Santa???” he asks, confused.

“Ohhh, you mean the neighborhood tradition.”

“No, this year it wasn’t me who was Santa.”

I stare at him, stunned.

“What do you mean it wasn’t you? You are every year!”

“I couldn’t manage it this year.”

– “I was replaced by that new neighbor - you know, the young student who moved in recently.” 

“I asked him at the last minute, because I knew I wouldn’t make it.”

A wave of heat washes over me, shame mixing with disbelief.

“I don’t fucking believe it…”

My heart pounds like crazy.

I turn my head away - I can’t look him in the eyes.

Marcin doesn’t seem to notice.

“Is there anything to eat?”

“Yes, the fridge is full,” I mutter.

“I’ll go out for a walk.”

“Sure, go - cool off. You’ve spent all day in that kitchen; some fresh air will do you good.”

“And oh - if you run into that Santa, thank him for me.”

“For what?” I ask cautiously.

“For filling in for me.”

the end