A Very Dirty Christmas

by Sabrina Paige

  "Goody-goody," he says, grabbing a handful of my hair.

  "Dickhead." I let out a moan when he muffles the word by pulling my head forcefully onto his cock, yanking my hair at the roots. I wrap my lips around him as he pushes his way further and further into my mouth.

  "Prim and proper, straight-laced little virgin," he says, as I relax my throat, taking him in as far as I can, the irony of his words not lost on me. I cup his balls with one hand and he groans, pulling my head back and forth along his length, refusing to let me be the one in control. It's a few minutes before his grip on me loosens and he lets me go. I pull away from his cock, wrapping my hand around his base and sliding it up and down his length, his skin lubricated by a mix of our fluids. He warns me, his tone gruff. "You had better put your mouth back."

  "I haven't been a virgin for months now, thanks to you. And you're an arrogant, egotistical prick who can't think about anything except getting laid," I say, unable to resist.

  "Nerd," he says, but his head lolls back as I jerk him off into my mouth, my tongue stroking the end of his head.

  "Manwhore." I wrap my lips around his head, sucking in as I stroke. I cradle his balls with my other hand.

  "Shit," he says, pulling my head down farther. "Suck it like you mean it, Princess."

  So I don't. I pull away from him. "I told you to stop calling me that."

  "Go ahead and keep doing what you're doing with my cock, Princess," he says, "On your knees like that, with your sweet little mouth hanging open, and I'll come all over that pretty little face of yours."

  The throbbing between my legs threatens to undo me. I want him more than I can stand. I stroke him, my grip firm. "I'd rather take it all in my mouth," I say, my voice low. "Jackass."

  Gripping my head with both hands, he fucks my mouth, so much pre-cum dripping from the tip I think he's going to explode. I've gone down on him a handful of times now, but he's always stopped long before coming in my mouth, yanking me away from his cock and rolling on a condom before burying himself inside my pussy.

  I want to taste him.

  "Fuck, I'm going to come," he says, warning me, but I grab his thighs, swallowing him more deeply. "Kate..."

  I moan my response, my tongue pressing on the underside of his cock, and I suck harder as I feel him start to lose control.

  "Shit, Kate," he groans, his hands gripping my hair, holding me in place as he lets go, filling my mouth with his seed. I swallow once, then again, as his cock pulses, shooting the liquid into my throat.

  After he comes, he doesn’t waste a minute, pulling me immediately to my feet. “Your fucking mouth,” he says.

  “Don’t tell me,” I say. “I need to shut it, right?”

  “Your mouth is fucking amazing,” he says. “You can keep your mouth open as long as my dick is inside it. Prude.”

  “Thanks for the generous offer. Spoiled brat.”

  “I can be generous,” he says, zipping up his pants. He’s still wearing his tuxedo, only now his shirt and jacket have a rumpled look, even though he’s been standing the whole time. He loosens the button on his jacket, and places it neatly on the chair by my desk. Watching me from across the room, he barks an order. “Strip. Now.”

  I roll my eyes. “That’s romantic.”

  “You already know that I don't do love. And you don’t want romance,” he says, undoing his cufflinks and then the buttons on his shirt. “You want someone who will tell you exactly what he’s going to do to you, and then fucking do it. And what I want is to see you take off that dress like you did the other night and show me that sweet body of yours.”

  He doesn’t wait for me to respond. He just peels off his shirt and slides out of his pants, the whole time never taking his eyes off me. Turning, I back toward him and let him unzip the back of the dress, and it falls heavy to the floor.

  His hands are on me, palms sliding over my arms, down my waist, then across my ass. When he brushes his fingers against my pussy lips, I’m already so close I nearly come in response to his touch.

  I inhale sharply before I speak. “You’re wrong.”

  “Am I?” he asks. He takes his hands off me and I’m afraid for a moment that he’s not going to touch me again.

  “What -- where are you going?”

  He takes my hand. “Kneel over me,” he tells me as he lies down on the floor.

  “What? Why --”

  “Put your pussy on my face,” he says. “Now.”

  If I weren’t already so hot I could barely speak, the command alone would make me weak. I start to turn around, but he stops me.

  “No,” he says. “Face forward. This is all about you.”

  I kneel over his face, my pussy inches from his lips, and watch with rapt fascination as he arches up and touches the tip of his tongue to me, licking from one end to the other. A gossamer strand of my juice hangs off the end of my lips, and he groans as he begins to lap me.

  I'm nervous, self-conscious despite the fact that this isn't the first time his lips have touched me. But when he grasps my ass cheeks in his hands, pulling me hard against his mouth, that feeling dissipates. “Oh my God, your mouth,” I moan.

  He growls and holds me away from his face, looking at me with his mouth shiny, covered in my juices. “I love the way your pussy tastes. I can’t get enough of it.”

  I moan softly, conscious of the guests downstairs, the crowd of people gathered to celebrate my father’s engagement to Ella. We have to be quiet; anyone could hear or come looking for us. The thought makes me hotter, and as Caulter covers my pussy with his mouth, eating me like a starving man, I ride his face, threading my hands through his hair.

  I slide a hand to my breast, kneading it, tweaking my nipple between my fingers as I fuck his mouth, riding him as he brings me higher and higher. His tongue seems to be everywhere at once, flicking over my clit, thrusting inside me, teasing me, making me think about his cock. He grips my ass, his fingers spreading my cheeks, and I feel his fingertip against pressing against my asshole.

  I squirm at his touch, at the pleasure that surges through me in response to his finger, and I think I hear him laugh, the sound muffled between my legs. He grips me harder, pulling me against his face as he devours me. I’m quiet, trying with everything I have not to cry out the way I want to, mindful of the fact that if I do, someone will hear me. Someone will walk in to see me buck naked, riding my new step-brother’s face like he’s a fucking horse, my breasts bouncing in the air.

  Caulter has his tongue lodged in my pussy, his fingertip pushing into my asshole, and the thought of someone seeing me like this, while I'm being so thoroughly debauched by him, pushes me entirely over the edge.

  When I come, it’s blinding. I'm gasping for air as I nearly yank his hair out by the roots, trying only to focus on keeping my mouth closed and not screaming. Waves of pleasure, the pent up frustration of being around Caulter for a week, the jealousy of seeing him with another girl, wash over me, and I come hard against his face.

  The orgasm isn't even finished when he lifts me up. “On your hands and knees,” he growls.

  I'm in a haze, preoccupied with my throbbing pussy, overcome with the void of his tongue being withdrawn from between my legs. “What?”

  “You heard me,” he says. He grabs a condom from his pocket and rips open the wrapper with his teeth, looking at me like a feral animal. His cock is rock hard, and he rolls the condom on his considerable length. “What did I fucking say?”

  I giggle, his harshness somehow striking me as funny. “Okay, bossy.”

  He doesn’t answer, just grabs a pillow from the bed and throws it on the ground in front of me. “Scream into the pillow.”

  “You think highly of yourself,” I say.

  “You’re going to need the pillow.” He doesn’t wait for me to respond, just pushes me down on all fours. His tip presses against my entrance, and he plunges his cock inside me in one swift thrust, my wetness easily guiding him in. Hands on my hips, he fucks me with hard
thrusts, each one deeper than the last, my breasts swaying as he slides in and out of me.

  “Shit, Caulter.” I whisper the words, trying to be quiet, the sound of our flesh slapping together loud enough to make me nervous. My pussy is so sensitive from my orgasm that I can barely take the sensation of his cock inside me. It’s so overwhelming I want to crawl out of my skin. “I don’t know if I can take it.”

  His hands are on my back, roaming over my skin. “I’m going to make you come again,” he says. “This time will be insane.”

  My pussy tightens around him as he plows into me, the heat of pleasure radiating through my body. “Your cock is --” I want to say ‘too much,’ but I don’t want him to take it away. The mix of pleasure and the overstimulation bordering on pain, is something I’ve never experienced.

  “Your pussy is so damn tight,” he whispers, his balls pressing up against my lips as he thrusts deeply inside me. “You fit me like a fucking glove.”

  “Oh God, Caulter, you’re going to make me come again,” I warn.

  “You don’t come until I say you come, you hear me?” He grabs a handful of hair at the base of my head, pulling my head back like he’s taking the reins on a horse. “You fucking wait until I tell you.”

  “Oh God.”

  “Oh God, what?”

  “Yes,” I gasp. “Yes, yes. Wait.” I don’t know if I can.

  Caulter slaps my ass cheek, the jiggling of my flesh sending a ripple of pleasure through my body. “Touch your clit.”

  “No,” I protest. If I do, it will make me come in an instant.

  “Rub your clit,” he orders, and I press my finger against it as his thrusts get faster. “Tell me you love this.”

  “Oh, yes, I love it.” I’m rubbing my clit harder.

  “Tell me you love me fucking your sweet, tight pussy.” He thrusts into me, balls slamming against my lips, his cock so deep inside me.

  “I love when you fuck me.” I’m so close, I can’t hold off.

  He grips my hips so tight it think he’s going to leave bruises. “Say it again: I love you fucking my sweet, tight pussy.”

  “I.love.you.fucking.my.sweet.tight.pussy.” I rub circles on my clit, harder as he thrusts into me, his thrusts punctuating each word. “Caulter, don’t stop. Don’t stop.”

  “Do you want to come?”

  “Yes, Yes. Please. Yes.” I think I’m going to die if he doesn’t let me come.

  “Please. Say please let me come, Caulter.” His hand on my lower back, he pushes me farther down to the floor, my face hovering just over the pillow. I’m gripping the pillowcase as he thrusts into me, my ass high in the air. I bite the edge of the material, trying to keep myself from coming. But my pussy feels so wet and swollen I can’t hold off.

  “Please. Please. Please. Caulter.”

  He growls, slamming into me with one deep thrust. “Come for me, Princess.”

  I finally let go, muffling my cries with the pillow as he buries himself deep in me, filling me with his cum. The orgasm washes over my entire body like a tidal wave, the intensity so powerful I might be swept away. I don’t know how long it is after that, that I finally start to come down, and tear my face away from the pillow to look at him.

  Caulter rubs his hands on my back and down my hips. “I told you’d need the pillow.”

  “I don’t have words.”

  He grins. “Speechless,” he says. “That’s what I’m talking about.”

  I laugh. “You wouldn’t want me if I were speechless. You’d be bored.”

  “I’d be in heaven.”

  “Screw you.”

  “Again?” He slaps my ass. “I’ll need another minute, but if you insist.”

  “Do you think anyone noticed we’re gone?”

  “I think we probably have an audience outside the door,” he says, sliding out of me and slapping my ass a second time for good measure.

  “What?” I squeal.

  “Calm your tits,” he says. “It was a joke. Your face was in the pillow. If it wasn’t, well...then we’d be on the front page of whatever the hell little newspaper they have up here at Lake Winnipesauke. I'll go ahead and assume it's something with the word gazette in it.”

  “How am I going to sneak out to take a shower in the middle of the party?” I ask.

  “You’re not,” Caulter says, throwing me my dress.

  “What?” I ask, my voice high-pitched. “I’m not going down there smelling like --”

  He interrupts me, looking at me with his eyebrows raised. “Like you just had filthy sex on the floor of your room with your step-brother?”

  I grab the pillow from the floor and throw it at him. “Please stop saying that.”

  “Step-brother?” he asks, grinning. “Does it bother you? I mean, you are keeping it in the family.”

  I cover my ears. “La la la la,” I say. “I don’t hear you.”

  He crosses the room to me, takes my hands off my ears, and kisses me on the lips, his kiss at once changing the tone of the moment from jovial to sensual. “Put on clothes and slip into the bathroom to clean up, and then I will,” he says. “I’ll meet you downstairs. If you say one word to that guy from school, I'll beat his fucking ass in the middle of the party, then bend you over my knee and tan your hide.”

  My eyes go wide. “The sad thing is, I think you might be insane enough to do just that.”

  Caulter grins. “Good. I think you’re starting to get to know me after all, Princess."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Caulter

  "Shit, you scared me." She's standing by the open balcony door wearing a cotton t-shirt that barely covers her ass. And panties, I'd guess, even though I can't see them. It has to be a thong, since I burned her granny panties, which makes me smile. "What are you smiling at?"

  "Nothing," I say. "Are you going to let me in here, or what?"

  "Do I have a choice, or are you going to just barge in anyhow?" she asks.

  I grin, slipping my hand around her and pulling her against me. I kiss her slowly, letting her melt into me, but pause when I see the sketchpad on the bed. "Drawing again?" I ask, picking it up.

  Katherine reaches for it, but I hold it up high above her head. "Shit, you just can't keep me off your mind, can you?"

  "Give it back to me, you shithead," she says, her teeth clenched. "Or I'll scream."

  "The hell you'll scream." The thought makes me laugh. "I'm sure our parents would love to walk into the room to see you wearing nothing but that t-shirt and holding a pad full of drawings of my cock."

  She glares at me, and crosses her arms over her chest, throwing herself heavily on the bed. "Fine. Whatever. You already looked at them anyway, so I don't care."

  "That's very sensible of you." I walk to the other side of the room, finally looking at the picture she was drawing. I expect to see me, but it isn't. "Is this your mother?"

  She nods, and the look she gives me makes me feel ashamed for grabbing the pad from her. "I draw her the way I remember her, not, you know, how she was near the end."

  "It's nice, Kate." Nice is such a stupid word, I think, as soon as it comes out of my mouth. Katherine's drawings are beautiful -- that was my first thought when I picked up her sketchpad, before I realized they were all of me.

  "I wasn't drawing you before because I'm obsessed with you or something," she says. I hand her the sketchpad and she closes it, and I can tell by the way she looks at me that she's embarrassed.

  "No?" I ask, my eyebrows raised. "I'm disappointed. I've always wanted a stalker."

  She doesn't say anything for a minute, and I think I picked the wrong way to lighten the mood, but then she looks up and shrugs. "Well, I did take a lock of your hair for the shrine I made to you."

  I sit down on the bed. Katherine is leaning up against the pillows on the headboard, her knees pulled up to her chest. She looks so vulnerable that I want to reach out and hug her, but that seems too corny, so I just pull her feet into my lap and cover them with my h
ands. There's something about being with her right now that feels comfortable. "That's good," I say. "Hair is okay. If you would have cast a mold of my cock, that would have been weird."

  "Damn it. There goes my plan for the evening," she says. "I'll have to take the plaster I bought back to the store."

  "Plaster would have been uncomfortable anyway. I prefer chocolate."

  She laughs, but the sound fades quickly and we sit in silence, with me rubbing her feet. Isn't this something -- Caulter Sterling, two months of monogamy under his belt, rubbing a chick's feet and talking. "Do you think about her a lot?"

  "Who?"

  "Your mother," I say, nodding toward the sketchpad.

  Katherine shrugs. "She's been gone a long time now, you know?"

  "Not that long," I say. "A few years, right?"

  "Yeah," she says. "At the end of my eight grade year. She was sick for a year before it happened. Breast cancer. It was too late when they caught it."

  I'm sorry." I don't really know what to say.

  Kate shrugs. "It is what it is, you know? I mean, there's nothing you can do about it."

  "You've been at Brighton since then," I say.

  "As soon as my dad could get rid of me, he did," she says, her voice bitter.

  Being gotten rid of is definitely something I can understand. "He and Ella are made for each other, then."

  She looks at me. "What do you mean?" she asks. "Is your father around?"

  "Ella has been jonesing to get rid of me as soon as I came out of her," I say. "Who knows who the hell my father is?"

  Katherine's brow wrinkles. "You really don't know?"

  "She told me that he was some loser, lived out in Georgia somewhere," I say. "When I was fifteen, I hired a private investigator and tracked the guy down. He copped to her paying him to say he was my father and stay out of my life. Apparently she partied a lot back then. She doesn't know who it is."

  "Aren't there DNA tests for that?"

  "Not if you can't even narrow it down," I say.

  "Shit. That sucks."

  I move up to her calf, grateful for the distraction as I rub her leg. "Whatever. It's no big deal, right? That's life. At least your father is her fucking age, not like some of the guys she was dating, barely a day over eighteen."