Christmas With Kris Kringle

Chapter 11

The chicken parmesan was delicious. And not just because the last thing I ate was a PB&J at lunch. Licking my fork, I was thankful Kris enlisted a professional. I sat crossed legged on the floor in my T-shirt and panties next to Kris who was still somehow fully dressed. After a few more bites, I planned to correct that error. My head was still spinning from the finger bang, but I desperately wanted more.

“Who’s watching Celeste tonight?” Kris asked, spinning angel hair pasta onto his fork.

“We have a neighbor, Ms. Sullivan. She checks in on Celeste when I work late or spend the night with mysterious tech moguls.”

A smile shadowed Kris’s mouth. “Does that happen a lot?”

“You’d be surprised.” I took a sip of water. “So how exactly does one become an app developer?”

He scrunched his shoulder against his ears. “You just need good ideas. Or you can steal an existing idea and add a unique twist to it.”

“Just that simple, huh?” Taking another bite of the chicken, I tried my best not to moan as I chewed.

“I started out as a coder and I worked for a video game company for a while but I’ve never been interested in the traditional office nine to five. I wanted to work from wherever, doing something that could make me money while I slept.”

“So you’re one of those hustle hard, scared money don’t make money, type of brothers?”

“No, I’m the how can I make the most amount of money while exerting the least amount of effort so I can go to San Diego and learn to surf, or Italy to attend a pasta making class type.”

I squared my shoulders, my body perking up. “Have you done all those things?”

He mumbled yes around a mouthful of food.

“Wow, sounds like you have this life thing all figured out.”

“I wouldn’t say all that. There are still aspects of my life I’m hoping to improve.”

“Like what?”

“Like a person to share this shit with. It’s great learning how to make ravioli, but it would have been even better if there was someone to share the experience with.”

“I feel like it would be easy to find a willing companion to jet set with you to Italy or Dubai.”

“True, but I’m not looking for just anybody.”

I grew uncomfortable in my seat as if my butt was resting on hot coals. Surely, he didn’t think I was a viable candidate for his around the world in eighty days lifestyle. I’m embarrassed to admit, despite owning a passport, I’d never been outside of the country. “Well spoiler alert, I’m not a good fit for that role.”

“Why not?” His face was stone serious, as if we were strangers and he knew nothing about me.

“I have a sister who needs looking after.”

“Three tickets are just as cheap as two.”

This was the moment the lightbulb clicked on in my head. Kris was just talking, he wasn’t serious about traveling with me. This was just all part of the game … a bit of fun. It was nothing more than foreplay. Kris would weave this beautiful tale of us traveling to exotic places, sleeping in late, and taking private tours of the Louvre. And I would in turn fall into his arms and fuck him with reckless abandon. Make-believe could be real enticing if I didn’t allow myself to dwell on the unlikeliness of any of this being possible. He knew I could never leave my sister, and I knew his words were empty. “Not gonna lie, it’s fun to allow myself to pretend for a little bit.”

“What if you didn’t have to pretend?” He set his empty plate aside.

In this dim lighting, it was difficult to make out his features. Was he sporting a playful smirk? Was there a mischievous glint to his eyes? “Kris, we haven’t even had sex yet and you’re offering me what?”

“I’m just presenting options.”

I’d accepted a long time ago my options were limited. Celeste and I were kind of a package deal, and not many men were looking for that level of commitment or responsibility. And it sounded like Kris was looking for adventure. The last place he’d find that was with the woman who practically had weeds growing around her feet because she was too afraid to make a move. Make-believe was for Disney movies. I was no longer enjoying this topic of conversation and decided to pick another.

“So why are you working at the mall?”

“Are we back on this?”

“Yes.”

“I thought it would be fun.”

“Bullshit.”

“I know you think I lost some bet or something, but it was honestly just a thing I was curious about and always wanted to do.”

“Because of your pre-mid-life crisis?” I teased, feeling far more confident in this conversation than the last.

“Maybe.”

“So what else is on this bucket list?”

His face lit up as he ran down the items. “Learn to make artisan bread, study calligraphy. I want someone to teach me how to play spades so when I go home to visit my family in Canada, I don’t get clowned.”

“You’re Canadian?”

“Yea.”

“Wow, that makes so much sense now.”

“What does that mean?” He smashed his bushy brows together.

“You’re really polite and helpful.”

“What about you? Do you have a bucket list?”

“Nope, doesn’t make sense to write out a list of shit I’ll never do.”

“Sometimes you have to make time for the things that make you happy.”

“It doesn’t always work that way for regular folks. Some of us are too busy putting out fires and don’t really have time to cultivate gardens.”

Kris jumped up from the floor and jogged to the kitchen, rummaging in a drawer. When he returned, he held a marker and paper. “Let’s make a bucket list for the rest of the night. Shit we want to do before the date is over. I’ll go first.” He wrote on the small notepad in silence. When he was done, he read it aloud. “I want to kiss, lick, and suck every inch of your body.”

His words made me throb. “We’re making a naughty bucket list?”

“Yep. Only rule is it has to be achievable. So you can’t say shit like have sex on a beach in Bali.”

“Okay, I’ll play.” Holding my hand out, I took control of the marker and notepad. This type of bucket list I could get into. I scribbled on the page, keeping it close to my body to obstruct his view. I examined his face, hoping my request wasn’t too racy. “I want to put your penis in my mouth.”

Kris gave a confirming nod. “That is …” He tapped on the notepad. “Let’s put a star next to that one.”

I chuckled, but complied.

We went back and forth like this for several rounds, each entry raunchier than the next. My juices were forming a wet spot underneath me just thinking about what he intended to do to me.

Grabbing the finalized list, Kris ripped it from the notepad, attaching it to the fridge with a magnet. “Where do you wanna start?”

Kris

We started with me in my boxers on the couch and Belen on her knees. Her doe-like eyes staring up at me as she ran her fingers down my chest. Her hands played with the waistband of my boxer briefs before coming to rest on the guest of honor. I swallowed down a steadying breath, silently admonishing myself not to blow my wad before she even started.

Belen planted kisses on my shaft through my boxers. Then back at my waist, she gave my boxers a tug. I helped to remove them before kicking them aside with my foot. She methodically ran kisses down my thighs and near my crotch, never making contact with my dick. If her plan was to drive me crazy, it was working. She teased me like this for several minutes and I let her. If this woman wanted to inflict tiny paper cuts across my chest, I’d allow it as long as she continued to touch me.

I dragged in a long breath. “Belen, please.”

Her eyes lit up at my words, a smug smile dancing over her face. She relished having this level of control over me. Sticking out her tongue, she grazed the shaft before inserting the tip in her mouth. Bracing myself for the ride, I grabbed the pillow next to me as she moved up and down. I couldn’t speak, all I could manage was breathing, shaky, raspy breaths that sputtered and choked me.

Her mouth was like a slip and slide with just enough suction to make my toes curl. It’s hard to explain, but a good blow job can make you feel like a king and right now I felt like Alexander the Great.

Watching Belen half naked on her knees was the best show in the world. One I would come back to experience every night. Leaning in, I rubbed my hands across her back, kissing the top of her head that bobbed up and down over my length. Whispering in her ear, I suggested she take it all and she complied. “That’s it. Just like a good little slut.”

Belen’s mouth grew slack as she pulled away looking at me. “What did you just call me?”

“What?” My voice was three octaves higher than normal.

“You just called me a slut.”

“No I didn’t. I mean I did, but I meant it as the highest compliment. Like mother earth, goddess, slut. Please don’t leave.”

“This is a safe space. So I’ll admit I kind of liked it.” Belen sat up on her knees, unclasping her bra. She tossed it into our growing pile of scattered clothing. Enveloping my penis in between her breast, she glided up and down, her lips French kissing the tip on the way up. The perfect mix of wetness, warmth, and pressure.

Do you wanna see a dead body? Because in that moment, I was pronounced deceased. Death by a dick sucking assassin. Apparently, she had the power to not only take life but to restore it, with vibrations from her humming which shot down my spine, shocking me back to life. My body shivering in a state of euphoria as Belen swallowed every last drop.

When the ability of speech returned, I asked, “Where’s your overnight bag?”

“Oh I left it in the car. I thought it best to play things by ear.”

“I’ll go get it.” Lifting her to her feet, I kissed her lips, which moments before was the epicenter of my pleasure.

Pulling on my jeans and shirt, I stopped in the kitchen, crossing off one of Belen’s sex items off the list.