“Kallum,” I whispered. “Fuck me with your cock now.”
“That mouth of yours is killing me,” he groaned. His hands dropped to the waist of his pants and he fumbled to unfasten it. “Can’t wait to feel you around me. Can’t wait to slide into that wet— Oh shit.”
He’d frozen, his hands still on his pants, his eyes wide on mine.
“I don’t have a condom,” he said, in the tones of someone doing a reading at a funeral service. “I wasn’t planning on... well, you know. My wallet is back at the costume department with my clothes.”
I could have laughed if I wasn’t about to experience the world’s first death due to penis deprivation. “Can’t we find one somewhere? I don’t know, maybe Jack has one in his Caboodle?”
Kallum’s face lit up. “I could do a Caboodle heist. LikeOcean’s Eleven!”
A heist would take too long, and I didn’t actually know if Jack had one in his kit, anyway, since the kit was technically only forfakesex. “Or maybe it would be okay?” I suggested, knowing I sounded desperate, and not even caring at this point. “If you pulled out? I’m clean. And I trust you.”
He closed his eyes again, the picture of a man at war with himself. But then: “Wait,” he said, eyes popping open. “I got this! We’re saved!”
And proud as a Boy Scout, he reached into the back pocket of his Santa pants and pulled his phone free.
“Are you going to Instacart a condom?”
He gave me a giant grin as he shook his head and pried the case off his phone, revealing a condom wedged inside. The little foil wrapper had an anthropomorphic pizza slice with a blond pompadour printed on it... an anthropomorphic pizza slice I recognized.
“Is that a—”
“Slice, Slice, Baby promotional condom? Why, yes it is.” Kallum tapped his temple. “I saved one for an emergency smash.”
“Your pizza place made promotional condoms?”
“Sure did. Pizza and Chill: order a pizza for two and get a free condom.” He sighed. “It didn’t take off like I thought it would, so we ended the promotion early. I’ve got a lot of condoms left over.”
“Well, I’m glad you had this one left over,” I said, not even caring that it was a freebie pizza condom coming to the rescue.
“How right you are, mademoiselle,” he said, tossing his phone onto the table and clamping the edge of the condom packet between his teeth. I squeaked as he scooped me up and carried me to Santa’s big red chair at the front of the workshop.
He gave me another grin as he turned and sat us both down, him in the chair and me straddling him. I pulled the condom from his mouth and leaned in to kiss him, both of us grunting as my full weight settled against his erection.
He reached up and started undoing the top buttons of my dress, his hands pushing inside the moment they could, rough and demanding as I found his tongue with mine. I knew my lipstick was fucked, and probably all the makeup around my mouth too as his beard rubbed against my chin and cheeks, butI didn’t care. I’d tell them I fell into a pond, that I was attacked by a bear or a maple syrup poacher, because I wanted to be smeared and marked by him. I wanted to look in the mirror and seeKallum was herescrawled in my beard-chafed inner thighs and ruined makeup.
Condom dangling from my fingers, I pushed open his Santa coat so I could pet his bare chest. “Kallum,” I breathed, scratching a hand down his sternum. “Please.”
He knew what I was asking for. He took the condom and I rose up on my knees so he could shift underneath me. And then he laughed so hard that I shook along with him.
“I forgot,” he managed between his deep giggles, “about the pickle pouch.” And sure enough, his hand emerged with the not-so-little beige pouch he’d been wearing for our sleigh scene. The sheer ridiculousness of the moment slammed into me, and I was giggling too; here we were on Santa’s chair, in our red velvet costumes, our sexcapade helped by fire-prone snow machines and hindered by pickle pouches, and oh my God, this was the most fun I’d ever had in my entire life. This moment, this movie. These last few weeks with Kallum.
Kallum tore open the packet and then our giggles subsided into quick, deep breaths as he adjusted his erection so that it was free of his pants. It was thick and heavy looking, a dark, needy red color, with a swollen head and pre-come already smeared at the tip. I watched as he pinched the top of the condom and then rolled it over his length with deft, easy movements.
“I’ve never seen someone do this in real life,” I murmured, fascinated. “It’s really hot.”
“It’s hot to me too. Knowing I’m getting ready to be inside someone...”
Our eyes met, both of us clearly thinking the same thing. He was about to be insideme. We were really doing this.
Not breaking our gaze, he curled one hand around my hip and used his other to hold his penis upright. He guided me down, so that he pushed at my opening.
The skirt of my dress hid everything from view, but it was almost a blessing, because I didn’t know if I could handle the sight of what was happening along with the feeling. The sensations were already so much—the heat of him through the latex, the shudder-inducing way he began stretching me as I slowly impaled myself.
Inch after thick inch, I sank down, having to pause twice to adjust, to take a breath. He was big and I was out of practice, and when I looked up from his chest to his face, his expression was one of pure agony. His eyes were closed, his head tilted back against the throne. His jaw was tighter than I’d ever seen it.
And I realized he was trembling. No, not trembling.Shaking.His thighs underneath mine, his hand on my hip, his other quaking hand now sliding up my thigh. With my hands braced on his bare chest, I could feel the heavy, near-violent pumping of his heart inside his rib cage.
