The Santa Suit Bet: CHAPTER 4 – Santa Caught Slipping

 The mistletoe kiss wasn’t the end — it was the beginning. Away from the crowd, the heat becomes something real, something consuming, something Eli can’t hide from anymore. Santa’s suit never stood a chance.

Chapter Four 

Eli 

Santa Caught Slipping

The brick wall is cold at my back, but Miles is warm everywhere he touches, and that contrast alone makes something in me snap.

His mouth crashes back into mine before I can catch my breath, before I can finish the thought that maybe this is a terrible idea. His hands bracket my hips, sliding me up the wall a little like I weigh nothing. The Santa suit bunches at my waist, too thick, too hot, too much, and yet somehow not enough.

A sound slips out of me. Soft. Helpless. Embarrassingly real.

Miles swallows it.

His tongue brushes mine, slow at first, then deeper, hungrier. The kiss feels like something he’s been holding back for months. Maybe longer. His fingers dig into the fabric at my sides, guiding me closer, pressing us together until there’s no space left for doubt or air or anything except the fact that he wants me.

And God, I want him.

“Eli,” he murmurs against my mouth like he’s tasted something he can’t forget.

Hearing my name like that hits low, sharp, and dangerous. My knees almost give.

His hand comes up, cupping my jaw, thumb stroking forward until it grazes the corner of my mouth. My breath stutters again. I try to kiss him back, harder, needing him closer, needing something I can’t even name.

He responds instantly.

Miles bites my lower lip, gentle but unmistakably claiming, and a full-body shiver rolls through me.

“Jesus,” I whisper.

He smiles against my mouth, smug and warm. “You good?”

“No,” I breathe. “Yes. I don’t—”

“Yeah,” he says, kissing me again, slower this time. “That.”

Someone inside the bar laughs loudly. A door slams. Snowflakes drift down in soft spirals, melting the second they touch my overheated skin. The world is too cold and too loud everywhere except right here where he has me pinned.

He drags his mouth down my jaw, lips brushing my throat. My head tips back on instinct. His breath is hot on my skin. The fake beard is pushed up, half hooked behind my ear, and forgotten.

He nudges the collar of the Santa coat aside and kisses the spot just beneath it.

My whole body jerks.

“Sensitive?” he murmurs.

“I hate you,” I whisper, because it’s the only thing I can get out.

“No you don’t.” His smile touches his voice. “You really don’t.”

His hand slides beneath the open front of the coat, fingers brushing the hem of my shirt. My stomach tightens. Every nerve I have is suddenly aware of his touch, waiting for it.

The bells jingle with every movement, obnoxious and loud in the quiet alley.

He huffs a laugh. “Already falling apart and I haven’t even gotten you out of this ridiculous suit.”

“I’m not falling apart,” I lie, voice cracking on ‘apart’.

He lifts his head, eyes glinting with heat and something dangerously close to fondness.

“You are,” he says. “And it’s beautiful.”

I have never been more ruined by a single sentence in my life.

Before I can think, before I can panic, he slips both hands beneath the heavy Santa coat, grabbing the waistband of my pants and pulling me flush against him.

A broken sound escapes me.

This time, he definitely hears it.

“Yeah,” he whispers, voice low. “There it is.”

His mouth crashes into mine again, harder, deeper. The wall digs into my shoulders as he presses me back, hands gripping my hips with barely restrained control. Every slow grind of his body against mine sparks something hot and helpless up my spine.

I fist the front of his sweater, dragging him closer, desperate for more, desperate for him. The bells on my suit shake wildly with the movement, echoing every one of my humiliatingly unrestrained reactions.

He groans against my mouth. “Santa’s loud.”

“Santa’s dying,” I breathe.

He laughs softly, kissing the corner of my mouth, the edge of my jaw, the dip beneath my ear. “Not yet.”

He grabs my thigh, lifting it just enough to slot himself closer. I gasp at the contact, head thudding back against the wall.

“Fuck,” he whispers, the word pushed out like it surprises him. “Eli…”

Hearing him sound like that…

I’m gone. Completely.

His hand drags up my torso, beneath the coat, warm and sure as it slides under my shirt. His fingertips brush my stomach, and my whole body jumps like I’ve been struck.

“You’re shaking,” he murmurs.

“You’re— you’re touching me,” I manage.

He smiles. It’s unfair. And devastating. “I’ve wanted to do a lot more than touch you.”

My breath stops.

Before I can ask, before I can spiral, he pushes my shirt higher, mouth following the path of his fingers. He kisses up the center of my chest, slow and deliberate, like he’s worshipping every inch.

“Miles…” I gasp, the word breaking apart.

He lifts his head, eyes dark. “Tell me you don’t want this.”

I open my mouth. Nothing comes out.

Not no.

Not stop.

Not even a thought.

He nods, like he expected that answer.

“Good,” he says again. “Because I’m not stopping.”

His hand slides down my stomach and into my waistband, fingers wrapping around my cock with a sure, confident grip that makes my vision spark white at the edges.

My back arches hard. “Oh my God—”

“Yeah,” he breathes, stroking me slow at first. “Been imagining this.”

My hips jerk helplessly. I swear the bells on the suit jingle in time with my pulse.

He kisses me again, swallowing every sound I make. His thumb drags along the underside of me, slow and deliberate, and a full-body tremor moves through me so violently I grab his shoulders to stay upright.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs against my mouth. “Let me?”

I nod, fast and desperate. “Please.”

His breath shudders.

Like he wasn’t expecting that.

The pace shifts, firmer now, deeper strokes that pull embarrassing sounds out of me, ones he groans at like they’re his personal reward. The world collapses to heat and friction and the sound of him whispering my name in a way that makes me want to come undone right there against the wall.

“Look at me,” he murmurs.

I try. I do. But the pleasure hits so sharply that my eyes flutter shut.

He kisses me again, slow but hungry. “God, you’re gorgeous like this.”

The words push me right to the edge.

“Miles,” I gasp, voice breaking around his name. “I’m—”

He tightens his grip just enough to wreck me.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “Let go.”

I do.

Hard.

My whole body shudders, collapsing against him as the world tilts and everything burns beautifully bright and terrifying.

He holds me through it, steady and warm and sure, kissing my jaw, my cheek, my mouth like he’s trying to gather every piece of me.

When I finally slump against the wall, breathing hard, he leans his forehead against mine.

His voice is rough. Honest. Barely controlled.

“You’re not going home alone tonight.”

I’m still catching my breath when I whisper, “Good.”

Come back tomorrow for Chapter Five

Copyright © by LS Phoenix

No portion of this story may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

Published by LS Phoenix

New Hampshire, USA

https://linktr.ee/authorlsphoenix

First Edition: December 2025

Cover Design by LS Phoenix