8. Santa Claus is Coming （Tonight）

EIGHT

SANTA CLAUS IS COMING (TONIGHT)

DOVE

I have a split second to experience pure embarrassment that he’s holding my new dildo, followed by a moment of relief that I’d sanitized it before I put it away, until I have to admit that the only way he’d know I had that in there was if he was somehow watching me after I made it back to the apartment.

Because he was, wasn’t he? He was telling the truth about that, too.

What else is he being honest about?

Derek shakes the toy, the silver bells ringing in harmony as he gives me a heated look.

“You fucked this. Don’t deny it,” he says the second my lips part. “I saw you do it. I jerked off as I watched you. Seeing those tits of yours bounce, hearing your soft moans as you worked this toy inside of you… I had this replica of my very own dick made for you, Dove, as a Christmas gift. But you need the real thing. Let me give it to you.”

Well. There we are. Confirmation that he not only watched me fuck myself on camera, but that the crazy cop masturbated along with me. He’s also the one who gave me the toy because he is my secret Santa.

And now he wants to fuck me for real.

I shake my head again.

He drops the dildo back into my drawer. “You need it. You need me .”

“I don’t?—”

“You didn't get off, Dove. You ran out to be such a bad girl, you left before you finished. Maybe that’s because you knew you were waiting for your cop. Well, here I am, precious. And I’m ready to take what you offered me.”

What? “Offered you? I didn’t offer you anything!”

“No?” He raises his eyebrows as he stalks back toward the bed. “You offered to give me head or pussy out in the alley.”

“Yes, but?—”

“I took a kiss instead. I know. Dove, Dove, my precious Dove… you didn’t think I would fuck you for the first time in a seedy alleyway where anyone could hear you scream for me, did you? I could wait. I have patience. But even that has its limits. I wanted to wait until the new year to ask you out. I had a plan. But my mentor was right. You gave me the opportunity, and I’m going to take it. I’m going to take you . You’re going to let me, too, or else I might have to pull out my cuffs—and, I have to tell you, they’re not as fun when they’re put on behind you.”

It takes a second for me to understand what he means. When I do, I’m not sure if I’m glad he’s giving me a clear choice—either jail for who knows how long or a night of sex with Officer Derek Coleman—or resentful that he supposedly watched me for months and still thinks that the only way to get me to agree to fuck him is by blackmailing me.

But since he seems to need that…

I go along with it.

“Are you telling me that, if I don’t sleep with you now, you’re charging me for dealing?”

He pretends to think it over for a moment as he joins me back on the mattress, going on the other side of me as if that part of the bed belongs to him. “Yes. You got it.”

“Do you think anyone will care?” I ask him. “I hate to point it out, but I technically work for a Dragonfly. If you arrest me, you’d have to arrest half of Springfield for breaking the law under one of the gangs.”

Himself included, I’d bet.

Derek nods in agreement. “That’s true. But since I don’t want to fuck any of them, I couldn’t care less. I want to fuck you, Dove. I want to make you mine the same way that I’ve been yours from the first moment I saw you.”

Sorry, but I don’t believe any of that. I don’t believe that this handsome, deceptively ‘nice’ guy fell for me, like it was love at first sight, and spent months… months … plotting for a way to get me in his bed.

Only we’re in my bed, and as he starts shrugging off the red Santa jacket, revealing the sculpted, bare chest beneath it, he doesn’t seem to have any intention of leaving it.

“You’re going to blackmail to get me to sleep with you? Is that it?”

“There isn’t anything I won’t do to get you to let me fuck you. Because that’s important to me, Dove. I could force you, but then I’d have to force you every time for the rest of our lives. But if you give yourself to me… that’s the only Christmas gift I want, and I’m ready to open it.”

I still have the covers on me, legs clamped together, but as Derek finds my knee, applying enough pressure to ease my legs open, it’s obvious that’s what he means.

I slam them closed again. “‘Rest of our lives’?” I echo. “You get what you want and walk away from here. You never threaten me with jail again, and if you see me doing my business, you keep walking. That’s the only way I’ll agree to this. Otherwise you will have to force me.”

How bad does he want to fuck me? Enough to agree to my terms? Because if I let myself believe even a word of his bullshit… no. There’s no such thing as Santa. I love Christmas, but there’s no such thing as Christmas magic or miracles, either.

In this world, there are pushy men who take, and naive women who don’t do anything to stop them because they believe love at first might actually be real.

Would I stop Derek if I could? Maybe if it wasn’t the middle of the night on Christmas Eve, but it is, and he’s a cop… and instead of laughing at me or telling me to spread my legs again, he rises up on his knees so that he’s at my side, looming over me.

“Let me tell you about this guy I know.”

Story time. Of course. Why not? I’m already pretty sure that, despite his pretty face, Officer Coleman is psychotic. Maybe a sociopath? I don’t know the differences, only that he seems convinced that everything he’s done—stalking, leaving me inappropriate gifts, watching me on a camera that he managed to install in my apartment, and lying in my bed while I’m unconscious, whether he fucked me or not—is a perfectly acceptable way of showing a woman he’s into her. There’s something wrong with him—and something wrong with me that I’m still humoring all of this instead of screaming bloody murder or searching for my phone to call 9-1-1.

As if that’ll help. Call a cop on a cop? Even in Springfield, that’s a bad, bad idea.

So, instead, I listen to him as Derek says, “He fell in love with a sweet girl. She was kind to him, and he was instantly obsessed. He thought he was too broken for her, though, and kept his distance. Kind of like how I did. But I always planned on making you mine, Dove. I just needed to wait. But my friend? He wasn’t going to ruin her innocence… but then she agreed to go out on a date with another man.

“Side note, precious. You touch another man, he’s dead.” The slight humor that’s been on his face since I woke up to him watching me disappears suddenly. In its place, I see a cold man who absolutely means what he says. “Go out with another man, he’s dead. Fuck anyone else but me? He’s dead, and I’ll make it hurt. Understand?”

Fuck me. I should hate this. I should be trembling, crying, pleading for him to leave, not secretly wishing he’d shut up and, if he’s going to fuck me already, do it . I should be scared out of my mind, and while I could blame it on my sleeping pills fucking with me when I wake up and they’re still in my system, I’m not so sure that’s enough of a reason to explain why I goad Derek by saying, “What if one thinks he can get away with grabbing my ass when I’m at work?”

“I’ll cut off his hands and feed them to him, finger by finger. Then he’s dead. Why? Did someone grab your ass, Dove?”

He’s serious. Shit. He’s really, really serious.

Jerry sucks, but I’m not about to be the reason he dies. So, instead of answering the unhinged cop, I turn the conversation around on him. Gesturing at his bare chest, I ask, “And what if he thinks he can start stripping after sneaking into my bed, that I’ll agree to this insanity and decide to sleep with him?”

Derek’s eyes seem to flash, the Christmas lights behind him silhouetting him against their sparkle. “Then you should fuck him better than you did the toy he made for you if you want him to stop thinking about murdering every man you’ve ever met before and after him.”

I swallow. “Good to know.”

He nods. “Back to my friend. Do you know what he did when he saw the woman he was obsessed with on a date with another man? He wasn’t as messed up as I am. He didn’t jump straight to murder. Instead, he drugged her, arrested her, and kept her as his personal prisoner in his basement until she learned to love him.”

My mouth falls open. That ’s not as messed up as what my stalker did? If that’s the case, then what else did Derek do that I don’t have any idea about?

Then again, maybe I don’t want to know…

I lick my bottom lip. “That guy you’re talking about… tell me the girl got away from his crazy ass and he’s in jail now.”

Derek smiles. “Actually, they’re happily married. As for jail? Unlikely.” Then, before I can ask, he adds, “He’s a cop, too.”

Fuck. I knew the Springfield cops were crooked, but damn .

Derek pauses for a moment. “Okay. Maybe he’s a little more messed up than me. I’ll kill for you, Dove, but I don’t want to scare you. I just want you to understand how badly I need you. How I saw you once and immediately knew you were mine. My friend thought the same thing about the woman who became his wife. To make sure she knew that she belonged to him, he actually tatted her while she was unconscious.”

As silly as it is, I gasp. I would’ve noticed a tattoo on me since I don’t have any, but that doesn’t stop me from blurting out, “You didn’t do that to me, did you?”

Derek shakes his head. “I would never mark up your pretty skin without permission, precious, but he did me a favor and gave me a tat of my own.”

Part of me wants to know what that tattoo is. Another part wants to know where it is. Since I would only be feeding his delusions if I asked about it, I don’t, but it doesn’t matter. Within seconds, he’s shoving down the red Santa pants, showing off his groin.

Okay. So he’s completely naked under the suit. No undershirt. No boxers or briefs. With the suit pants down by his knees, his erection is unmistakable. My eyes are instantly drawn to it, and the cop fucking preens as I stare.

Chuckling softly under his breath, he lets my eyes take in the magnificent sight—and, fucking hell, it looks even better than the toy does—before he taps a mark about two inches above his pubic hair.

It’s a dark tattoo, with a black outline and shading that gives it some life. About the size of a half-dollar coin, I can immediately tell what it is, even if I can’t believe it.

It’s a dove. A motherfucking dove.

Derek Coleman has a dove tattooed right near his junk.

“You’re insane,” I breathe out.

“I’m determined,” he says, correcting me. “And, like I told you tonight, I’m yours . This tattoo tells the world that I belong to Dove Yarrow. And once you take my cock inside of you the same way you did that dildo, you’ll belong to me. Unless you’d rather take your chances on the inside.”

Prison. This man just showed off a tattoo he obviously got in honor of me, and he still thinks he needs to threaten me with his badge in order to get me to fuck him.

His cock is out. I’m already naked. I wanted to fuck him earlier, and after my experience with the sex toy he had made for me, I know how good it’ll feel with him stretching me out. Probably even better since he’ll be able to fuck me instead of me having to do all the work.

It’s Christmas. Even if it’s just this once, I’ll fuck this cop, he’ll get over this irrational obsession, and we can both move on.

Right?

I shudder out a breath. At the same time, I release my hold on my blanket.

He groans. I push the covers down so that I’m not hiding behind them at all. Derek swipes his mouth with the back of his hand, then kicks out his feet so that he’s sitting in the middle of my bed instead of kneeling. In seconds, he’s removed the pants so that he’s as naked as I am.

Gripping his cock, giving it a quick stroke, he jerks his chin toward the head of the bed. “On your hands and knees, Dove. Now.”

I start to shift my weight, but before I can get into position like he instructed me to, he’s already shaking his head.

“No. Over there. I want you exactly where you were earlier tonight. Then we do this right. The way we were always meant to. Flesh on flesh, my precious Dove. Me and you.”

I blink, pausing near the center of the bed. Oh my God. He’s jealous of that toy, isn’t he?

He’s paying close attention to me as I freeze in place. Still stroking himself, squeezing the tip of his cock as though afraid he’ll come before he can actually get me to fuck him, Derek frowns. “What’s the matter, Dove? Change your mind? Or are you afraid?”

Am I?

I can’t tell if he’s trying to goad me now. Like a kid calling another one ‘chicken’ to get them to do what they want, is he asking me if I’m too afraid to fuck him to dare me to do so? Or does he actually care how I feel?

Surprisingly, I think he actually cares—and that’s why, after another shake of my head, I get in the same position I was in earlier tonight.

That’s all he needed from me. To have me finally acquiesce, no matter how he blackmailed and nagged and cajoled me into doing what he wanted, I got on my hands and my knees in front of him on my own. I have my ass up, my pussy ready to be fucked by the twisted cop who could either be my most erotic dream—or one hell of a nightmare.

Derek releases his cock, the bed dipping as he maneuvers his way behind me. He squeezes my ass cheek, and there’s something about his possessive touch that sends a shiver running down my spine. When Jerry grabbed me, I felt slimy as hell. When Derek does it…

Damn it. It’s been too long since I’ve been laid if I’m actually looking forward to my stalker doing it to me.

“That’s my good girl,” he murmurs, getting into position behind me. He presses a kiss to the small of my back before bracing my legs with his. “You won’t regret this, precious. I promise you that.”

So long as he promises me that he won’t arrest me, that’s all I need to hear.

I don’t tell him that, though. I can’t. For all his talk of waiting and patience, he must’ve finally hit his limit after all because the moment he dips his finger inside of me, checking to see if I’m wet enough to take him—and, Jesus Christ, I am— he quickly replaces his finger with the head of his cock before he enters me with one forceful thrust.

I take him easily. Of course I do. It was only a few hours ago that I stretched myself out with the dildo, and though he seems thicker because he’s real , my body accepts him easily.

He can tell, too.

“I knew it,” Derek breathes out, a touch of wonder to his voice that I can’t help but sense all the way down to my toes. “Your body was absolutely made to be fucked by mine. You feel that?” He pulls out, then shoves himself back in, going impossibly deeper with his next thrust. “You feel how it welcomes me? How it knows me? It takes me so well, precious. It doesn’t want to let me go.”

Again. He pulls out, thrusts, and seats himself, keeping the connection. “But that’s okay. I don’t want to leave the warmth of this pussy ever again. Shit. If I could go on patrol with you wrapped around my hips, I would. But since I can’t, I’ll just have to fuck you so thoroughly, you remember my cock and weep for it whenever we have to be separated.”

That’s too much for me, and I don’t just mean the way he’s possessing me with his dick. I’m so glad I can’t see his face right now as he goes from bottoming out inside of me to slowly rocking into me, the same way that I developed a rhythm with the mounted dildo earlier.

I’ve always wanted someone to love me so desperately, they couldn’t stand the idea of being apart. Logically, I know that that’s not possible. No matter how much you love someone, you need time and space away from them otherwise you’ll feel stifled. Suffocated.

But if Derek can be believed, he doesn’t want just one night… He seems to want forever .

Oh, well. One night is all I can offer him. Just this Christmas Eve, and since I only really agreed to this because it’s my way to earn a ‘get out of jail free’ card for the holiday, I decide to enjoy the sensation of the buff, strong, powerful cop fucking me from behind for as long as I can.

Shit. I forgot how incredible it feels to be fucked by a man and not a toy. With a dildo, you only feel the pressure and intrusion that comes with being penetrated. When your lover is real, there’s the heat of his back as he bends over your body, the way his fingers dig into your ass and your hips as he pins you in place to take him, the scratchy leg hairs as he presses his against yours, keeping you under him… it’s the warmth inside of you as his hot blood keeps his dick hard, and the melody of his grunts as he pounds into you.

It’s everything and nothing, it’s the act of possession and the feeling of not being alone on Christmas…

It’s pretending, if only for a night, that a man could be so obsessed with you, he’d stalk you for months, leave you gifts, threaten to cut off the hands of a man who touched you inappropriately, and spend his Christmas Eve talking you into fucking him as if you were a fucking prize he needed to win…

In the light of day, I’ll know how absolutely insane all of that is. It’s insane if he’s really that obsessed. It’s insane if I’m that narcissistic and full of myself. It’s really insane if this is just one sleeping pill-induced fantasy…

Who knows? Maybe it is. Maybe, on Christmas Day, I’ll come to my senses. Maybe I’ll contact Sammy and Nadine the day after, give back the Eclipse, and resign myself to spending the next decade instead working toward my dream…

But right now, as Derek slips his fingers under our bodies so that he can pluck my clit, rub it, play with it, pinch it until I’m about to come along with him, I grip the sheets on my mattress and hold on for dear life as my formerly secret Santa unloads himself deep inside of me before he collapses onto my sweat-soaked mattress, taking me with him there, too.

Delirious and well-pleasured as my orgasm hits at last, I have one last coherent thought—and it’s my own rewritten lyric to the classic Christmas song Derek sang to me before.

Santa Claus is coming tonight …

Yes. Yes, he did.