by Tara Sivec
“Really, Leon, it’s time for you to settle down. I mean, look at your brother and how happy he is. Don’t you want that for yourself?” her mother implores. “You flit from one job to the next and one boyfriend to another, and I just assumed since Logan here lasted for more than a few weeks, that you two were serious. You’re not getting any younger, honey.”
“Mom, stop. Now is not the time for this,” Noel pleads, shooting me an embarrassed look.
“Leon will never settle down, Mom, give it a rest. Just be happy you have one perfect child and let it go,” Nicholas says with a laugh, resting his hand on Casey’s huge pregnant belly and giving it a rub.
“Didn’t you say Logan asked what your ring size was? When we talked on the phone a few weeks ago, you were all in a panic telling me he asked, so I’m sorry if I just assumed you’d be coming home with a ring on your finger,” her mother complains, ignoring Nicholas.
“Um, that was for his grandmother,” Noel mutters. “I guess we have the same size fingers or something and he wanted to buy her something nice for Christmas, right, honey?”
She looks at me with big, pleading eyes and I give her a smile of encouragement.
“Yep, that’s exactly what it was. A ring for my grandmother,” I announce to the room. “But don’t worry, Noel here will be getting a ring soon enough, I’m just waiting for the right time. She deserves nothing but the best, and I want it to be perfect, just like her.”
Aunt Bobbie sighs with a dreamy look in her eye and starts chugging the rest of her hot chocolate, Noel’s mom shaking her head sadly.
“You have the same hands as a grandmother? Good Gruyere, child. How many times have I told you about moisturizing?” she groans.
Noel continues to fidget nervously next to me, and I suddenly feel so protective of her that I want to tell everyone in the room to fuck off. Who cares if she hasn’t settled down yet or changes jobs frequently? She’s beautiful and smart and funny, and she went through the trouble of bringing a stranger home with her for Christmas just so they wouldn’t be disappointed. I’ve never met anyone who would go through that kind of trouble for anyone, let alone family.
“Noel is the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. She’s kind, she’s intelligent, and she puts everyone’s needs before her own. I’ve never met a more selfless, amazing woman than her and believe me, it would be an honor to have her as my wife someday,” I remark softly, looking right at Noel and blocking out everyone else in the room who has suddenly gone quiet, including Noel herself.
“You are, you know,” I tell her quietly. “You’re amazing.”
I brush my fingertips across her forehead to move her long bangs out of the way so I can see her eyes and watch them quickly fill with tears. I immediately feel bad. It wasn’t my intention to make her sad. I just wanted her to know that no matter what her family says, she’s a wonderful woman and she shouldn’t feel bad about the choices she’s made in her life. I’ve never once thought about getting married or spending my life with one person, but sitting here looking at Noel so quiet and sad, I want nothing more than to pull her into my arms and spend forever reassuring her that she’s perfect in my eyes.
I have lost my fucking mind. All this happy family togetherness and Christmas bullshit has turned me into a pussy. Why the hell aren’t I pissed about that? Why does the thought of spending the rest of my life with the woman next to me make me happy instead of sick to my stomach? We barely even know each other.
Maybe I just need sex, that’s the problem. Once I get a release, maybe all of these feelings will disappear and I’ll go back to being normal. Back to being perfectly content with my quiet, solitary life that doesn’t include rotten eggnog threats and bullets to the balls.
“I think I need some air,” Noel suddenly announces, untangling her legs from underneath her and pushing up from the couch. “S-ooogan, how about we go for a walk?”
She almost slipped again and called me Sam and part of me wanted her to do it. Just say my name in front of all these people and forget about this charade. Tell them who I am and why I’m here, and let’s be done with this bullshit. But I know that can’t happen until she’s ready. It’s bad enough her family keeps badgering her about her life, she’ll never hear the end of it if she comes clean about me.
I get up from the sofa and take her outstretched hand as she announces to the room that she’s going to take me around the yard to see the rest of the lights. I found out earlier that the front yard was just a small taste of the display, and the backyard, a full three acres, is a winter wonderland where people can walk along a path lit with candy cane lights to see everything on judging night for the lighting display contest. I’ve seen some of it out the back windows of the house and Noel promised me earlier she’d take me out to see everything. Now seems like the perfect time to get away from her family for a few minutes so she can clear her head, so I’ll do whatever she wants, even if it doesn’t include her getting naked out in the freezing cold.
Noel doesn’t say a word as we walk through the house to the backdoor in the kitchen and I help her into her winter coat. I start to wonder if I crossed the line and said too much, and if she’s pissed at me. I’m supposed to be her boyfriend and boyfriends say shit like that about their girlfriends, right? It’s not like it was out of character for me to say that stuff and make her feel better about herself. It’s not like she needs to know I really meant that shit and wasn’t acting.
I shrug into my own coat as she opens the door and traipses out into the snow that has begun to fall since we got home from the outing earlier. The temperatures plummet as the sun has already set, and the brightly flashing lights are our only way to see where we’re going as we make our way out into the backyard.
“Noel, I-”
“Shut up,” she cuts me off with a sharp whisper, striding so fast I have to jog through the snow to catch up with her.
Yep, she’s definitely pissed. Maybe the things I said weren’t dumbshit-Logan enough and that’s why she’s mad. What if her family knows he doesn’t say nice things like that and she knows I just ruined everything for her?
Shit, shit, shit.
“Will you just let me—”
“Seriously, shut it,” she stops me again from trying to apologize, pausing to reach back, grab my hand, and yank me along faster behind her.
We’re moving so quickly that I barely have time to check out the explosion of Christmas lights through the yard. The lighted blow-up things that sway in the breeze in the softly falling snow. The archway of rapidly blinking white lights we walk through behind the house. The giant red sleigh with a spotlight on it filled with foil-wrapped presents in every color. The lighted plastic figurines dotting every inch of the landscape from Santa to snowmen to a huge gingerbread house with animated gingerbread men twirling in circles in front of it.
Noel keeps pulling me without a sound through the snow until we’re at least an acre away from the house and we come up to a large barn, lined with multicolored lights along the eves of the roof and a sign above the door that says “Santa’s Workshop”.
She opens the door and drags me inside, slamming it quickly behind us. In the middle of the room is a huge, red chair outlined in gold, and I realize we really are in Santa’s Workshop and I’m looking at the fat man’s throne. There’s a small, electric fireplace in one corner of the room, and I watch silently as Noel walks over to it and plugs it in, the lighted flames of a fake fire glowing in the hearth and heat filling the room.
“I’m sorry if I crossed the line in there,” I finally speak, hoping she doesn’t cut me off again and allows me to explain. You know, without telling her I meant all of those things because I don’t want to look like a giant pussy who falls for a woman a day after he meets her.
She doesn’t say anything in response, just unzips her coat, pulls it off, and tosses it onto the floor. Stalking toward me, she grabs onto my upper arms and turns me around, pushing me backward until my legs bump into the red thron
e and I plop down into.
My mouth falls open in shock when she drops to her knees between my legs and her hands go right to the button and zipper of my jeans.
“W-w-what are you doing?” I stutter as her nimble fingers make quick work of the opening of my jeans and she runs her palm over the bulge behind my black boxer briefs that are peeking out.
“Oh, sweet Jesus,” I mutter as she continues to rub her hand on my dick that hardened the moment she dropped to her knees. “Seriously, what are you doing?”
I mean, I know what she’s doing, but…WHAT IS SHE DOING?!
Her fingers move to the waistband of my boxers and she expertly lifts it and slides it up over my dick until I have no choice but to lift my hips so she can keep pulling them down along with my jeans. She moves everything out of the way just enough so that she can see every inch of my cock, and I thank God she had the foresight to turn on that heater, otherwise I’d be a sobbing mess blaming the cold air for the cause of shrinkage.
Thank fucking God she turned on the heater.
“What are you doing? You don’t have to do this,” I tell her in between moans as her hand wraps around my length and she slides it slowly up and down.
“I’m just becausing your penis, shut up,” she mutters, using the excuse she did earlier at the Christmas house when she kissed me on the cheek.
Another moan dies with a strange croaking sound in my throat as her head drops and her hot, wet lips wrap around the tip of my dick.
“Shit-fuck-holy-mother-of-God,” I blurt as her mouth quickly descends to the base of my cock until it hits the back of her throat.
My head falls against the red velvet throne and I force my eyes to remain open as I watch her instead of closing them in ecstasy as her mouth moves up and down on my cock, sucking the head and swirling her tongue around it each time she comes up.
It’s just like the dream I had this morning, only better. So much fucking better. As she bobs on my shaft, her hand starts moving again, twisting and turning her palm around my dick as she slides it up and down me right below her lips. The sounds coming out of my mouth are embarrassing and incoherent gibberish, but I don’t give a fuck about anything except the feel of her hot mouth and expert tongue working over my dick like never before. I’m clutching onto the arms of the chair so hard I’m afraid I might break the damn things off as she speeds up her motions and her sucking gets harder. It’s pathetic how quickly my balls tighten and my orgasm creeps up on me. It really is, but I’m just going to blame this shit on being in a war zone for eighteen months and only having my hand to get the job done. In actuality, I’m pretty sure this is all Noel. I have a feeling she could give me a hundred blowjobs and I’d come just as fast because she is THAT good.
Holy fuck, her mouth should be illegal.
The sounds of sucking that fill the small room each time her mouth slips off the head of my cock and she dives right back down on it, make my orgasm rocket through me so fast that not even the recital of baseball stats or the knowledge that I’m about to come where Santa plants his ass with children on his knee can stop it.
“Fuck, shit, Noel…I’m going to come, baby,” I warn her, my release taking a small pause when the word baby slips out.
I don’t want to be one of those clichéd idiots who call a woman baby just because her mouth is on his dick. It slipped out and it felt right, and not just because her mouth is indeed on my dick, sucking faster and harder, her cheeks hollowing out with the force of her excellent sucking skills as she continues to deep throat me.
Her other hand joins in the fun, cupping my balls and rolling them around in her warm palm, and that’s it. Game over. I’m done for.
“Shit! Fuck, I’m coming,” I warn her again, not wanting to spew in her mouth and completely disgust her if she’s not into something like that.
Noel doesn’t even pause, taking my cock all the way into her mouth as my hips jerk forward and I come harder than I ever have in my life, her hand still rolling my balls in her palm as I shout and curse through my release. She swallows every drop of my cum like a champ, and I really do become one of those clichéd jack holes when I have to clamp my lips closed before I do something stupid and profess my love for her in between sobs of pleasure.
She moves her lips slowly up and down my cock as my hips continue their little twitching spasms until my orgasm finally subsides and my ass slumps back down into the chair.
“Sweet mother fucking Jesus,” I mutter as she sucks her way up and off my dick, giving the head one last little kiss before sitting up and leaning back on her feet.
With a swipe of the back of her hand across her mouth, she quickly gets up and with shaking, fumbling hands, I shove my cock back into my boxers, standing on unsteady legs to pull up my jeans and button them.
“You just gave me a blow job on Santa’s throne,” I say dumbly when I get my jeans zipped and pull my shirt down over the waistband.
I should be thanking her, telling her she’s outstanding, getting down on my knees and ripping her own pants off to return the favor, but all I can do is stand here in Santa’s Workshop stating the obvious.
I’ve become orgasm-stupid.
“I hope this is what you asked Santa for, otherwise it’s going to be really awkward if you just wanted a bike,” she teases with a smile, walking over to grab her coat from the floor and sliding it back on.
I chuckle as she bends down and unplugs the fireplace, my dick stirring in my pants all over again when I get a view of her ass in those tight jeans she’s wearing.
“Well, I really wanted my very own official Red Ryder, carbine action, two-hundred shot range model air rifle, but I guess this is good enough,” I say, grabbing her hand and yanking her toward me until her body is pressed up against mine.
“Awwwww, you quoted A Christmas Story.” She stares up into my eyes.
Even though I’m the one who should be smiling after what just happened, seeing her happy again after the crap her family said earlier makes me feel good.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I remind her, wrapping my arms around her and holding her close, wondering why she fits so perfectly against me, like she was made just for me to hold.
“No one has ever said those things about me before. Ever,” she whispers. “It doesn’t even matter if you were just playing a part. I get it, and it’s fine. Just…thank you. Thank you for defending me even if you didn’t mean it.”
She lifts up on her toes and presses her lips against mine, holding them there while her hands come up and her palms cradle either side of my face. There’s no tongue, no heat, no making out, just the soft press of her mouth on mine, and once again, there’s an ache in my chest that almost takes my breath away. She pulls her face back and looks up into my eyes, and I can’t stop the words from coming out of my mouth even if I want to.
“What if I meant every word of it?” I ask softly.
She blinks up at me wordlessly and I hold my breath, waiting for her to tell me I’m fucking insane or maybe even laugh at me for saying something so stupid.
A knock at the door ruins the moment and Noel sighs loudly when Nicholas’s voice shouts through the wood.
“Every time you fuck in Santa’s Workshop, God kills a kitten! Dinner’s ready, you sluts, get inside!”
I drop my arms from around Noel as we hear the crunch of her brother’s boots through the snow when he walks back to the house.
“Fun time is over,” Noel informs me, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward the door. “But my mom made ham, cheesy potatoes, and apple pie so that should make everything better.”
My stomach growls loudly, making Noel laugh as we head back out into the snow and stroll through the Christmas display this time so I can get a better look at everything while she points out different decorations that I didn’t notice the first time.
Yep, I’m definitely getting attached to this girl and her family. How in the hell am I going to just walk away in a few days?
9
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Embrace the Slut, Be the Slut
Noel
Hello, my name is Noel, and I’m sexually frustrated.
I want to curse at Sam as he stands a few feet away, browsing through a stack of sweaters on a display table at Macy’s, but it’s not his fault I feel like I should be at a Sex Addicts Anonymous meeting. After the stellar blow job—if I do say so myself—I gave him in Santa’s Workshop, we argued up in my bedroom for twenty minutes about him sleeping on the floor again. He wanted to return the orgasm favor and I didn’t want him to feel obligated to do so. I didn’t suck his dick to pay him back for saying all those nice things to me. Okay, so maybe that was why I dragged him out there to begin with, but once I unzipped his pants and saw that glorious package inside, I really, really wanted to put my mouth on it. Forget the nickname Sox, he shall now be referred to as Hung, forevermore. I felt like it would just be safer all around if he slept on the floor again instead of being a hot-and-sexy-tempting-body-of-gorgeous man spooning me in my twin bed. I’d never be able to resist having sex with him if he was curled up against me.
I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me. One minute I’m sad about the thought of him leaving after Christmas, the next I only want him for sex, and then in the blink of an eye, I’m back to wanting to keep him forever. For the sex.
Okay fine, for him too. He’s just so…perfect. My brain is fried from getting so worked up every time I look at him without a release to cool my jets. Once again though, all my fault. He was more than willing to diddle the doodlebug last night and I turned him down. Told him I was fine and it was just for him, that I expected nothing in return, blah, blah, blah, I suck.
“What do you think about this one? Does your Aunt Bobbie like blue?” Sam asks, holding up a light blue sweater with little sparkling crystals adorning the plunging neckline.
“Sam, I told you already, you don’t have to buy my family any gifts,” I insist for the tenth time since we got to the mall.