Christmas With Kris Kringle

Chapter 12

With my overnight bag on the bathroom floor, I rummaged through the items looking for pajamas that it was clear I’d forgotten to pack. Clutching the towel around my chest, I opted for a tank top and undies. His bathroom was spacious and we could have both gotten ready for bed in the space, but Kris grabbed his toiletries so I could have the primary bathroom all to myself. Honestly, I was happy for the break. When he was in the same space as me, I found it hard to think about anything else but touching him.

In the shower, I had flashbacks of him fingering me and had to resist the urge to replicate his touch. I was spending the night and hoped to get in at least five additional sex acts before the night was through. Maybe five was being ambitious, seeing how it was almost one in the morning. But I intended to use this man up till the last leg twitch and deep moan. I was like a squirrel storing up orgasms for the long winter. Securing my hair under a silk floral scarf, I exited the bathroom.

Climbing into the king size bed, his arms opened wide to receive me. I settled my head on his shoulder, rubbing my hand over his bare chest.

“You smell good,” he said. “It’s going to be hard to get any sleep with you next to me.”

“Sleep is overrated.” I planted a kiss on his skin. My hand brushing over the soft hairs on his abdomen leading to his dick. Kris seemed to absentmindedly stroke my skin. I missed the feeling of being swallowed up in someone’s strong arms. It’s funny the things one can learn to live without. I’d gone almost a full year without this type of intimacy and now that Kris was showing me what I was missing, it would be difficult to go back to my regularly scheduled program once this fling was over.

Who said it has to end? A little voice in my head asked. I ignored it because I refused to let myself get caught up in hypotheticals. Before I met Kris, I wasn’t even thinking about a serious relationship. I was fine with work, volunteering, and spending time with Celeste. Getting all wrapped up in the possibility of something more would only make my heart ache harder when it was over.

Kris cleared his throat, pulling me from my thoughts. “If you don’t mind me asking … what happened to your mom?”

My head recoiled. “Way to ruin the mood there Kringle.”

“I’m sorry it just popped into my head and I realized it’s not something we’ve ever discussed.”

“She died.”

“Damn, I’m sorry.”

“No, it happened years ago, a random act of violence.” I sat up and leaned on the fluffed pillow behind me.

Kris followed suit, sitting up he reached for my hand, waiting for me to continue.

“It was Christmas Eve and she was doing some last-minute shopping and this guy walked into the store with a gun.”

His eyes grew wide and his body shivered. “And that’s why you hate Christmas.”

“That, my dad, and the holiday in general just seems to be jinxed. One year my apartment caught on fire and I lost everything. Faulty Christmas lights. Another Christmas Celeste and I were headed to visit family and my car broke down. It was days before Christmas nothing was opened and we spent Christmas Day in a roach infested hotel room and for dinner we ate at this shady restaurant that I’m convinced was a drug front. So, year after year, my Christmases have sucked.”

Normally I didn’t talk about my hatred of Christmas. People couldn’t relate. Everyone was excited about spending time with family, eating good food, and opening presents. I spent the month of December bracing myself for the worse. Without fail something bad always happened. Sometimes it was small, like the store being all out of turkeys the year after my dad’s passing when I was trying to give Celeste a normal Christmas. Other times it was a canceled flight that forced me to spend the holidays in the airport with strangers. Each inconvenience caused me to cry like a four-year-old lost in a mall. Do you know how embarrassing it is to have a sobbing meltdown in the freezer section of the grocery store?

“How old were you when it happened?”

“I was ten. Without her, everything changed and just like that my childhood was kind of over.”

“Tell me about her.”

His words gave me pause. I hadn’t talked about her in so long. Sometimes I couldn’t remember which parts were real and which ones I’d made up. “I remember she liked to dance. She’d try to teach us dance moves all the time. Her favorite color was yellow and she loved movies that made her laugh. It’s weird because my memories are more like glimpses.”

“How’d Celeste handle it?”

“Celeste kept claiming she was going to come back. That mom was just lost. And it made me so angry because she wasn’t coming back and we were the ones who were lost without her.”

My throat was thick with emotion and it was becoming difficult to swallow. I hadn’t cried over my mother’s death in years, mainly because I never talked about it. I just allowed her to fade away. Storing old pictures, changing the subject or leaving the room whenever her name was invoked.

When she left, I had to fill her shoes and I didn’t have time to grieve. My dad and sister needed me. So I was strong for them, choosing to push the hurt down deep inside. “It’s late, we should get some sleep.” I turned my body away from him, facing the large window that looked out over downtown. I was tired and just needed sleep to help me contain my brewing sadness.

Kris stirred next to me, turning off lights before falling still. “Belen I’m sor?—”

“It’s fine, I’m just tired.”

He didn’t reach for me or pull me close. I think my body language gave him pause, so I was forced to sit with this heaviness in my chest until my brain finally shut off, allowing me to rest. Sleep was like a stroll down memory lane littered with images of my family. My mom making cookies and offering me the spoon to lick clean. Dad playing hide and seek and pretending he couldn’t find us even though Celeste and I were struggling to conceal our giggles. Being hoisted up to add the angel to the top of the Christmas tree.

Dreams of the past morphed into dreams of a future with Kris and I drinking hot chocolate in our pajamas while we watched Celeste and two unfamiliar children open gifts. Kris turned to me with a sincere smile and said, “Merry Christmas, Belen,” right before kissing me passionately.

An intense shiver forced me awake. It took me several seconds before I remembered where I was and whose hand was cupping my breast underneath my shirt, causing sparks to travel through my body. Kris’s warm breath tickled the base of my neck as he pressed close.

“Belen, I need you,” he grunted.

Removing my clothes, he proceeded to tackle item one from our list. His tongue finding every conceivable part of my body, taking his time worshiping my curves. When his tongue found the folds of my vagina, I laughed with delight. Silently commending myself for whatever past good deed led me to this prize. His hand stretched upward, running from my breast to my waist and back again. His tongue was full of magic tricks, causing my back to levitate from the bed as my legs quivered against my will. Grabbing hold of his tight coils of hair, I glided my hips over his tongue, my slickness coating his beard.

Kris pulled away abruptly and I deflated like a balloon falling back onto the bed. He reached for a condom, opening the wrapper, sliding it in place. He climbed on top and with the tip of his dick he gave my opening a few passes, swiping up and down slowly. I held my breath as he entered. Have you ever watched those movies where there is a loud explosion and then the sound goes all wonky? Well that was happening to me now, a docile buzz that was clean and pure as Kris filled me to capacity.

He lowered himself on top of me. The weight of him was a complete turn on; I felt protected and free to be vulnerable with him. As he thrust in and out, he kissed the side of my face. Dropping my hands to his ass, I scratched the length of his body while he pumped. Kris winced, pressing down on my open thigh. His strokes were like piping hot cocoa on a cold winter’s day. The warmth of his dick between my legs filling all the empty spaces. His arm rested over my head so all I could see was him, gritting his teeth and biting down on his lip.

“This is gonna be a problem. You are gonna be a problem,” he whispered into my ear. “Say my name.” His tone was gruff and forceful.

“Kristoff.” It came out breathy and sharp. My obedience was rewarded with the most deliciously long stroke that forced me to scream out his name once more, my voice echoing down the hall. Each thrust was like a wave causing me to crash to shore before receding, only moments later to find myself disoriented with ragged breath once more.

Kris’s tongue brushed mine and I grew warmer and wetter as my body lost all control, contracting and clawing its way to ecstasy. It took another minute before Kris shivered and grunted, the muscles in his arm protruding with each convulsion.

“I … am … so glad I applied for the Santa job posting,” he said, before collapsing next to me.