“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 wascupping 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.
“Stay,”Kris said, giving his body a big stretch.
“I can’t stay, I have to get back home.” It was eight in the morning, Celeste was up and was probably making Eggo waffles because I wasn’t there to help her make the real thing. I had loads of laundry that needed doing and I wanted to watch the latest episode ofWhy Knot, a reality dating show, it was decision day. Ugh, I sounded like an old lady.Was I really going to pass up the possibility of Kris once again hitting my switches like I was a low rider?
“Stay.” His hand found my clit.
“No fair.” My body sunk into the mattress. Needing to think, I pushed his hand away. Kris looked at me with puppy dog eyes. It had been so long since I’d done what I wanted. Celeste was always the priority. Fuck it, a few additional hours wasn’t going to hurt anything. Besides, after today we’d probably never do this again. Rolling off the bed, I went in search of my purse.
After checking in with Celeste, she informed me that I must be home no later than five o’clock or she would be accepting applications for a new sister. I also checked in with our next-door neighbor, Ms. Sullivan, who poo pooed my many apologies for the inconvenience telling me to have a good time.
Returning to Kris’s bedroom, which was spacious and cozy at the same time, I found him tapping his phone screen.
“Okay so you have me until three. What are you going to do with it?”
Kris’s face dawned a smile. “How about breakfast?”
I was hoping he’d say he was going to treat me like a whore, but breakfast worked too.
After a shower and change, we headed to a brunch spot that he would not stop raving about the entire drive there. I just let him talk about the buttermilk pancakes as big as your face, peppermint hot chocolate and fluffy omelets. The whole ride his hands were connected to me. If he wasn’t rubbing my neck, he was stroking my face, or his hand was resting on my thigh.
When we got to the restaurant, it was packed. Duh, it was Sunday morning in Minneapolis, of course it was packed. But crowded restaurants didn’t seem to apply to tech moguls. Apparently, Kris knew the owner, so we were seated without delay.
Over mimosas, I peppered Kris with questions. “So you were born and raised in Canada?”
“Are we at the interrogation part of this date?”
“Yes, how else will I determine if I want to give you a second date if I don’t ask the obligatory questions in an attempt to get to know you better?”
