Naughty St. Nicholas: A Santa’s Coming Short Story Read online

  Naughty St. Nicholas

  A Santa’s Coming Short Story

  Alexx Andria

  Copyright © 2018 by Alexx Andria

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Back cover blurb

  A Note From Alexx

  Christmas Eve

  Also by Alexx Andria

  About the Author

  Back cover blurb

  Who says only Santa brings treats for Christmas? USA TODAY Bestselling Author Alexx Andria has a short story to heat up your reader just in time for the holidays!

  Brielle Harris is my dream girl. Except somehow I ended up in the dreaded Friend Zone and I’ve been stuck there ever since. But that’s all going to change. I know exactly what she needs and it isn’t a shoulder to cry on.

  What she doesn’t know is that I might know me as a nice guy who surprises her lattes at work but behind closed doors I’m a different kind of bad — the kind of bad she secretly craves.

  And tonight, I’m going to get the girl who was born to be mine…and I plan to play dirty to win.

  ***

  Santa comes once a year … or does he? Join sixteen of your favorite romance author as they make all of your Christmas wishes come true! Put out the milk, he’ll take care of your cookie — it’s time to take seat on Santa’s lap.

  A Note From Alexx

  When I first started my Alexx Andria pen name, I started with short stories. It’s been fun to return to my roots with some sassy, sexy and sizzling hot short stories and novellas along with the fabulously talented collaborative efforts of my fellow authors. I hope you enjoy the Santa’s Coming series and the rest of the collaborative series we have planned.

  If you missed the previous series, check out the Halloween Honeys, Cocktail Girls, and Second Helpings for some fun, sexy, and delicious reads by fantastic authors.

  Also, stop by our Facebook page, the Book Hangover Lounge for updates and fun giveaways!

  Christmas Eve

  I smoothed my dress, checking my curves in the floor-length mirror against my bedroom door one last time before grabbing my clutch to meet my best friend, Nicholas Carthart, who was picking me up.

  The tight, ruby red dress was probably overkill but I needed a little ego-stroke from the last fuck-up of a relationship that I’d subjected my vagina to and Nicholas was a safe bet to make me feel good.

  Our annual ‘friend-aversary’ as I liked to call it was something of a tradition that’d started when Nicholas had been my knight in shining armor after an epic break-up the day before Christmas of all days.

  I’d been a mess — bawling my eyes out, terrified of being alone — Nicholas had swooped in, dried my tears and managed somehow to piece together my broken heart with dinner and a funny movie.

  After that, it’d become our Christmas Eve tradition for the past three years.

  What can I say about Nick? He’s that guy who will make someone a great husband someday but he’s not terribly exciting, you know?

  I mean, he’s polite and considerate, he’s kind and generous — he helps old ladies cross the street and he recycles his electronics and old batteries because he cares about the environment. He files his taxes and even pays them on time.

  Oh, and he’s genuinely sweet.

  And, kinda cute, in a puppy-dog sort of way, especially since he’d started working out.

  He didn’t quite have a six-pack but he was well on his way because he went to the gym five days a week, which I found incredibly annoying only because it cut into the time he had available for me.

  Yeah, yeah, I already know how selfish that sounded so save the judgment.

  The thing was, I liked spending time with Nick. He was my favorite person.

  He was like an old, comfortable shoe that fit my foot perfectly and gave me the warm fuzzies as soon as my toes slid inside and I hated to share my time (which really made it difficult whenever Nick dated anyone).

  Of course, I tried to be encouraging but I was also a bit of a shit because I had a tendency to tempt him with freshly baked brownies whenever I needed a buddy to binge-eat with me when I was on my period.

  Um, hello? Everyone knows chocolate eases PMS.

  To be honest, big guys gave the best hugs — and at six-foot, four-inches, Nick was certainly a big guy.

  So, if Nick didn’t quite achieve that six-pack, I wasn’t going to cry because Nick’s hugs were the best and why mess with perfection?

  But Nick’s zip code was firmly in the Friend Zone, which was exactly what I told my friend Marla when she point-blank asked me why I wasn’t climbing him like a tree after he dropped off a latte for me at work.

  “Girl, are you fucking blind or just stupid?” Marla asked, cutting me with a look that told me she already had her answer. “Holy shit, that man is hot as Georgia asphalt and if my eyes do not deceive me, he is packing heat behind those Levis, am I wrong?”

  I laughed. I didn’t want to think about Nick’s cock. Yikes, that felt wrong and weird. “I wouldn’t know. I don’t go around sneaking peaks at my friend’s junk. We’re just friends. Would you like his number?”

  Marla made a face. “Oh, I don’t chase after sloppy seconds. That man has it bad for you, honey. I ain’t about to mess with none of that.”

  “He does not,” I disagreed, sipping my latte, pleased that he always got my order just right, unlike my last freaking boyfriend who couldn’t seem to get my order right to save his life. “We’ve been best friends for, like, the past three years. He’s like my gay bestie, except he’s not gay.”

  “That man wants to fuck you,” Marla said, pursing her lips, sure of her assessment as she flipped through the pages of the magazine in her hands. “And you’re blind as a fucking bat if you don’t see it.”

  I chuckled, shaking my head. Marla and I both worked for a clothing designer but seeing the designer was out of town for the holidays, we were left to twiddle our thumbs until she returned after New Years.

  The upside, we pretty much got to do what we wanted. The downside, we were bored out of our brains.

  “You don’t know Nick like I do. Seriously, we talk about everything. If he were into me, he’d tell me. Besides, we’re so not suited for each other. He’s into nice girls and I’m not a nice girl.”

  “That’s for damn sure,” Marla agreed, chuckling.

  I fake scowled. “Okay, you didn’t need to agree so readily.”

  “I can already tell — he deserves better. Maybe you should give him my number.”

  “On second thought, get your own bestie,” I teased. “Nick’s all mine. He gives the best back rubs and I’m not about to give that up.”

  “Okay, only because I’m bored to tears, give me the Reader’s Digest version of this weird little relationship of yours,” she said, leaning back in her chair as she tossed the magazine. “Anything has to be more interesting than watching paint peel in this place.”

  “Reader’s Digest…what are you? My grandmother? Do they even print that anymore?”

  “Already losing interest,” Marla intoned, rolling her eyes, pretending to snore.

  I laughed. “There is no story. As you know, I have terrible taste in men and Nicholas is always there to pick up the pieces. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without him. He’s like my rock. In fact, next week is our friend-aversary.”

  “Your what?”

  “Every Chr
istmas Eve we go to dinner and a movie, just he and I. Sometimes we get dressed up, other times we go casual, but we always have a great time. Nicholas always plans everything down to the littlest details. All I have to do is show up. It’s great. My last boyfriend couldn’t even be trusted to order the Uber.”

  “Yes, like you said, you have terrible taste in men but then what can you expect when you picked up your last boyfriend at the club when he literally fucked you against the dirty wall of the club bathroom then asked you for cab fare home?”

  “That’s not fair, he’d lost his wallet,” I said, my cheeks heating but there really was no defending that jackwad. If only the sex hadn’t been so damn electric. There was something to be said for being dick-drunk for ninety-percent of a relationship. I admitted with a shrug, “He could fuck like a god.”

  “You should probably get checked for an STD.”

  I sighed. “I did. I’m clean.” Miraculously. Even I was shocked.

  Marla screwed her face into a frown. “What was his name again? Pig? Peg?”

  “Tig.”

  “Yeah, I knew it was something dumb like that. Whatever happened to naming your kid something simple? John? David? Honestly, I’m so over all these over-the-top names. I seriously just want to walk away whenever I come across these guys with names that make me want to slap their mama.”

  “His name didn’t bother me,” I said.

  “Yeah, his name was the least of his problems,” Marla quipped. “No job, no car, no prospects but he was swinging a big dick so he had that going for him. Didn’t he end up stealing your shit, too before it was all said and done?”

  “I don’t want to talk about Tig anymore,” I said, hating that I’d been so stupid. “Besides, everyone goes through a bad boy phase.”

  “Yeah, but most of us come out of it by the time we’re out of high school,” Marla retorted. “Except you. You keep reeling ‘em in.”

  I could spend time denying Marla’s assessment but it was true. I had a taste for the ones I should leave behind. I admitted, “I don’t miss Tig but I miss the wild sex. He was something else. I liked the danger.”

  And, oh man, I was horny as fuck. So far the well had been pretty dry. I hadn’t had sex in months and I was ready to climb the walls.

  My vibrator was a poor substitute for the real deal but I had to make it work because I made myself promise, no more bringing home men from the club, no matter how wet my vagina got in the moment.

  I still hadn’t recovered from all the shit Tig had stolen when he’d cut out of my apartment, the fucking loser. I was determined to start making better choices.

  I mean, I wasn’t getting any younger, right? I couldn’t be thirty and still bringing home bad boys with rap sheet a mile long.

  “You have a screw loose,” Marla said. “All right, so you’re saying that your friend is too nice? That’s why he doesn’t stand a chance to get into your knickers?”

  Her blunt comment shook me a little. I forced a small laugh. “I mean, well, it’s not that simple and besides, he’s not into me like that. I’ve seen the girls he’s dated and we’re nothing alike, you know? And I’m glad! Keeps things straight. Uncomplicated. We can talk about anything under the sun — and yes, we do talk about sex — and it’s not weird or tainted by attraction. I can actually get a straight answer from a guy’s perspective about sucking dick or eating pussy. It’s great.”

  Marla wasn’t convinced but that was okay. I didn’t expect everyone to understand our relationship. What we had was perfect and I wasn’t about to mess with it.

  “So, where are you going on your friend-aversary this year?” she asked.

  “Actually, I don’t know,” I answered, frowning a little. Nicholas had been tight-lipped about our destination this time. No matter how I’d pressed, he’d kept our “date” a mystery but I liked it. There was a subtle thrill not knowing where we were going or doing. I hoped we were seeing the new Jason Momoa flick but I was happy to go wherever Nick chose. He was good at picking our entertainment. “All I know is that we’re going somewhere dressy.”

  “Dressy?”

  “That’s all he said.”

  “And you still think he just wants to be friends?” she asked, incredulous. “Girl, either you’re purposefully being dumb or you’re using him. I think you ought to cut the poor man loose before you ruin him for a good woman.”

  “Dramatic much? I’m not ruining him,” I said. “We have a good time together.”

  But her comment had bothered me enough that I cut our conversation short that day and it was still with me now as I waited for Nicholas to pick me up.

  Was I stringing Nicholas along? I’d never looked at our relationship like that before. Nicholas had never complained or said anything to the effect that he wanted more from me — as in romantically.

  Was I being stupid?

  No, Marla had put weird thoughts in my head that didn’t belong. Nick and I had a great friendship and our night was going to be epic, as it always was because our friendship was something I could always depend on.

  Just like sweet, ol’ Nick.

  * * *

  The sleek black Towncar idled at the curb like a jaguar lying in wait for its kill. “Well, this is a nice touch,” I murmured with a smile as the driver opened the door for me. I knew Nick worked for Buchanan Enterprises, a billionaire family with fingers in many pies and he was pretty tight with one of the owners, Vince Buchanan. Nick made good money, though he’d never actually sprung for something like this but I liked it.

  I expected to see Nick inside but was surprised to see the black leather interior empty. Puzzled, I slid inside. Just as the driver closed the door behind me, my cell phone buzzed and it was a text from Nick.

  “The driver knows where to go. Enjoy a glass of champagne. You’ll need it for where we’re going.”

  A sweet shiver danced down my spine. There was something deliciously different happening. Usually, Nick was waiting for me, smile on his handsome face, the perfect gentleman.

  Something told me we weren’t going to a movie tonight.

  I leaned forward. “Excuse me, where exactly are you taking me?”

  Instead of answering, he said, “There are also chocolate dipped strawberries along with the champagne.”

  Ahhh, there is the Nicholas I know.

  Of course, I loved chocolate-dipped strawberries. I scooted back and helped myself to a goodie.

  I sank my teeth into the succulent morsel, groaning as the sweetness threatened to dribble down my chin. I poured some champagne, curious as to where we were going.

  We pulled into a back alley, a nondescript seemingly industrial area, and my confusion grew as the driver helped me out of the car. “Are you sure this is the right place?” I asked.

  The driver just grinned and went to the back door, rapping hard.

  A large, burly and entirely scary man appeared to growl at the entrance.

  The driver whispered in the man’s ear and apparently must’ve said the right thing because the bouncer nodded and the driver said to me, “Enjoy” before returning to the car and leaving me behind.

  What the hell was happening?

  I looked with utter confusion to the bouncer who gestured for me to hurry my ass inside, which I did because it was cold outside and I wasn’t wearing hardly any clothing.

  The sexiest woman I’d ever seen appeared — her blonde hair nearly to her ass and her tits to her chin — slinked up to me, her body glittering from the sequin body suit that was strategically slit at her nipples and her pussy — smiling in welcome and all I could do was stare.

  “You must be Brielle,” she cooed, linking her arm through mine. “Welcome to Malvagio, the most exclusive club in Los Angeles. My name is Sapphire. You’re one lucky girl. People wait for years for an invitation into Malvagio. You must have a very connected and powerful sponsor tonight.”

  While the interior was dark, there was a sumptuous yet shabby richness to the furnishings that felt wi
cked in itself. Imagine if Louis XIV and the Marquis de Sade had melded into one person and hired a decorator…the result would’ve been this place — and I was fucking mesmerized.

  “There must be a mistake,” I said, suddenly feeling very out of place as the woman maneuvered me into a private dressing room. “I think my driver might’ve sent me to the wrong address. I was supposed to meet a friend for dinner and he brought me here instead. What is this place?”

  Sapphire’s laugh was like sin itself. I’d never been into girls before but I might make an exception for her. Her skin was like alabaster. “No one ends up at Malvagio by mistake,” she said, wagging her finger as if I were naïve. “Your friend is waiting but first, you must prepare to receive him, sweet one.”

  Prepare to meet him? “My friend? Nick? No…my friend would never come to a place like this…he’s very straight-laced…um, very vanilla.” I could hear music throbbing in the distance. Even the pulse of the beat was sexual in nature.

  Wetness threatened to slide down my leg. There was something about the atmosphere in this place that made me want to do dirty things — unthinkable things. “I doubt he’d even know about a place like this.”

  “You’d be surprised what people hide,” Sapphire said, smiling as she went to a box and pulled a fire-engine-red lingerie set from an exclusive boutique on Rodeo Drive and laid it out. My eyes bugged. I’d never known Nick to be so extravagant but he could certainly afford a splurge now and then if he choose. She motioned for me to undress so I had no choice but to comply. “Come, I will help you.”

  “We usually go to dinner and a movie,” I explained, my eyes going to the lingerie, my brain spinning. “I thought the new Jason Momoa movie would be cool.” I was rambling. She was undressing me. What the hell was happening? She unclasped my bra. Holy shit. My tits were out.