A Very Dirty Christmas

by Sabrina Paige

  "Sometimes I think I'm not supposed to be happy, you know?" she asks. "Like, other people are supposed to be happy, but I'm not."

  That I can understand. Chasing happiness is like a fucking curse. "If you told your father to fuck off, I bet you'd feel happy."

  She chokes on her laugh. "Yeah," she says. "You're probably right. I bet I would."

  "So no more Harvard in the fall, then?" I ask.

  "You're assuming that won't make me happy," she says. "Maybe that's my dream."

  "Yeah, that's a ridiculous assumption," I say.

  "Maybe I want to go to Harvard."

  "No you don't." I speak the words with certainty, even though I shouldn't. I shouldn't know what she wants or doesn't want, but I do. I know with certainty she doesn't want to go to Harvard, and that she doesn't want to go to law school. It's not who she really is.

  "Can I show you something?" she asks. "But you have to swear you won't say anything to anyone."

  "Show me." I watch as she jumps up and races to her desk, pulling a folded piece of paper from underneath a stack of papers in the top drawer, then hands it to me. "What is it?"

  "Look."

  I read the letter, an acceptance letter from UCLA. "Is this where you want to go?"

  "I mean, it would never happen, you know what I mean?" she says. "It's not an Ivy League school. But they have a really good art program. My father would shit a brick if I went to art school. He would say it's a useless degree."

  "But you applied," I point out. "And you got in, right? You should do it, if it's what you want to do."

  She grabs the paper from my hand and puts it back in the drawer. "I think it's past the deadline anyway. And it's in California. My father would have a heart attack. Miss summer internships at the Capitol for art? I mean, what am I going to do with my life -- sketch? It's not practical." She shrugs. "I just wanted to know if I was any good, you know?"

  "You should do what makes you happy."

  She rolls her eyes at me, returning to where she was sitting before on the bed. "I'm not taking the advice of Mr. Life-Is-One-Giant-Party," she says. "Your mom has, like, mega money. You don't even have to do anything with your life."

  "Fuck if I don't already know that," I say, my voice hard.

  "I didn't mean that the way it sounded," she says. "Just that, you're completely set for life, aren't you? You can have fun all the time."

  "Well, that's not all it's cracked up to be." I sound ungrateful and spoiled. "It gets old after a while."

  "See?" she says. "Being irresponsible all the time isn't even fun."

  "First you say I don't have to do anything with my life, and now you're calling me irresponsible?" I ask. "I thought were getting along, and now you're back to insulting me."

  Katherine sighs. "It came out wrong," she says. "I didn't mean it like that. I just mean that you're obviously smart, you know? And you're set for life. You can do anything you want."

  "Says you." I feel like my path is laid out pretty clearly - I'm the bad boy son of a celebrity. People already know everything they want to know about me.

  "So what would you want to do, if you just said, fuck it, and didn't give a shit about anyone watching?" She rubs her lower lip absently with her finger, her knees tucked up to her chest. I think about how my tongue was on that lip earlier, how that lip felt as I pulled it between my teeth.

  I fucked her less than two hours ago; I should be worn out. But I'm not. I'm showered and reinvigorated as I sit here looking at her. And, I can see the fabric of her panties that barely covers her pussy, peeking out from between her thighs.

  "You," I say, reaching for her ankle and pulling it toward me on the bed.

  She laughs, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Yes, obviously," she says. "But you know what I mean."

  "I do know what you mean," I say, crawling up the length of her body, rubbing my cock against her the whole way. She giggles and puts her hands on my chest.

  "Not so fast," she says. "Not until you tell me."

  I kiss her, drawing her bottom lip between my teeth again, my hands on either side of her shoulders. "Tell you what?" I ask. "There is nothing to tell. I'd do you. I'd never stop fucking you. That's what I'd do."

  "I was being serious."

  "So am I." I reach under her shirt, slide my hand up her abdomen until I can feel her breast. No bra. Her nipple is hard, and I groan as I squeeze her flesh in my hand, watching the expression on her face change as her eyes lightly flutter closed. "You wouldn't spend your time fucking me if no one was watching?"

  "No," she murmurs.

  "No?" I ask. "That's rude. You should at least lie to the guy who's cock is pressed right up against your pussy."

  "Okay, then. Yes," she whispers.

  I stroke her nipple with my thumb until she's moaning, her voice soft. "Yes, because I told you to lie or yes because you'd want to do nothing but fuck me?"

  She whimpers. "Fuck me now," she says.

  "That was fast." But I pull myself away from her, slip her shirt over her head, and she pulls mine off before falling back against the pillows. I'm still wearing my pajama pants, the thin cotton fabric barrier between us minimal, and I can feel the pre-cum wet on the fabric. Leaning down, I take her breast in my mouth, swirling my tongue around her nipple. "You're ready for me so soon?"

  Katherine puts her palms on my face and pulls me up to her, her tongue thrusting insistently in my mouth as she kisses me. When I slide my fingers between her legs, she groans. The fabric of her panties is soaked. "See?" she asks. "I'm so wet already."

  "You are," I say. "Hang on a second. Let me grab a condom." I move away from her, but she latches onto my arm.

  "No."

  "No, what?"

  "No condom," she whispers.

  "It'll take me two seconds," I say. "They're right over there."

  "Do we have to?"

  "Use a condom?" I ask. "You're the one who was concerned about me fucking a redhead, but now you want to go bareback?"

  "You didn't fuck the redhead," she says.

  "Is that a question or a statement?" I ask. "Because you didn't seem sure before."

  "It's a statement," she says. "I'm sure."

  "Mhmm." I stand up anyway, sliding her panties over her hips and down her legs, unable to resist running my tongue down her pussy as I do. The taste makes me rock hard. The thought of being inside her, with no protection, makes me want to come right now. But that's definitely against my rules. "That's not something I do, Katherine."

  "What do you mean?" She watches me strip out of my pants, and her mouth parts when she sees my cock, which makes me feel smug as hell. I grab a condom from the bottom drawer in her desk. "Did you stash those in there?" she asks.

  "Yeah." I join her back on the bed.

  "When?"

  "A while ago."

  "Before we started screwing?" she asks. I climb over her, back where I was before, and she wraps her warm hand around my cock.

  "Are you going to break my dick if I answer you honestly?" I'm slightly concerned that it's something she's capable of. But she just laughs as she slides her thumb over the tip, the pre-cum wet on my skin.

  "You did, didn't you?" she asks.

  "I did."

  "You're a cocky asshole."

  "You're not a frigid bitch," I say.

  "Thanks," she says, laughing. "I think that's the best compliment you've given me, Caulter Sterling."

  "Don't ever say I didn't say nice things about you," I say. She's running her hand up and down the length of my cock, and I groan. When she guides me to her pussy, I tense as I feel her warm wetness against my bare cock, even though it's the best thing I've ever felt. "Wait."

  "I'm on birth control," she says. "I have been for years. Are you clean?"

  "I was tested right before...you, actually." I don't tell her why, that a month before her I'd slept with this psychotic chick from an all-girls school half an hour away who'd also, as it turned out, had slept with half of the lacr
osse team.

  She arches her hips up slightly so that the tip of my cock is just inside her. "So do it. Fuck me. I want to feel you come inside me."

  "Shit, Kate," I groan, not moving. I don't screw chicks without using rubbers. I may not be a stand-up guy, but at least I'm safe. "You're killing me. You're supposed to be the responsible one."

  "You're rubbing off on me," she whispers, her hands sliding around to my ass cheeks. "What can I say? I want to do something crazy."

  She pulls at me, but I brace, only allowing myself to go inside her another inch. Another agonizing inch inside her warm, wet cunt. I can't be expected to make a responsible decision, not with my cock inside her pussy. She squeezes her muscles tight around me and that's it. I ram my cock inside her, up to the hilt, in one deep thrust, feeling the exquisite bliss of her muscles stretch to fit me.

  Katherine arches as I slip inside her, her head falling back, hair falling down on the pillowcase and around her shoulders. One hand under her back, I pull her against me as I fuck her, my rhythm slow, even though she's wet and willing.

  She urges me on, little moans under her breath and then whispers, over and over, "Yes, yes."

  "Look at me, Kate." She jerks her head up, and her eyes meet mine before she kissed me hungrily. Every part of her is hungry; her pussy is practically milking me now, even before she comes. I know she's ready, on the verge so quickly, but I tell myself to slow down and wait.

  "No, no, don't stop," she whispers, her voice almost a whine. She wraps her legs around me, pinning me with my cock deep inside her, but I stop moving. I grab her wrists, and push them above her head, then lower my mouth close to hers again. "Please don't stop."

  "Don't try to take control, Kate," I whisper. "It doesn't suit you." She whimpers, but lies still, and I kiss her, my cock throbbing inside her. When she tightens her muscles around me again, I laugh. "You are always trying to take control."

  "Fuck..." she whispers, and I wait for her to say you, but she doesn't. She says, " Fuck me."

  I can't wait any longer. I thrust deeply inside her, feeling the gush of wetness from her pussy. "Is that what you wanted?" I ask.

  "Yes," she whispers, her fingers lacing tightly with mine, palms pressed against my palms as I drive into her over and over. "Yes."

  "You want my bare cock inside you..."

  "Yes," she says. "Oh God, yes."

  "You want to feel me come inside your bare pussy." Her muscles are tensing around my cock, squeezing it. It's all I can do not to come inside her right this second, with how tight she is, how warm she feels.

  "Caulter, I'm so close." She punctuates her words with one final squeeze, and I'm groaning and letting go, flooding her with my hot seed. When she comes, she arches up to meet her lips to mine, and I mute her moans with my mouth as I drive into her, feeling her orgasm rip through her body. Her pussy spasms around my cock, her muscles milking me for every last drop of my cum.

  Afterward, the only sound in the room is our ragged breath as we come down from our orgasms, and when she finally opens her eyes to look at me, my face inches from hers, her smile is broad. "That was good."

  "That's all you have to say?" I ask. "It was good? What a letdown."

  "It was definitely not a letdown," she says, wrapping her legs around me. "Do you want to go again?"

  "I've created a monster," I say, kissing her forehead, then her cheekbone, and the side of her face. "You're not going to be able to stop."

  "So don't make me stop," she whispers. "Keep fucking me."

  "You know this can't last." I feel the obligation to warn her, but as soon as I speak the words, I think I'm trying to warn myself. She's getting under my skin, and I'm afraid she's changing me. I know she's changing me.

  "If we're careful..." she says, her voice trailing off. She thinks I'm talking about the fact that we'll get caught, but I'm not. I don't tell her what I'm thinking. Instead, I kiss her soft lips.

  “We'll be careful,” I tell her. I remind myself that I need to be careful. With her heart and mine.

  ***

  I'm definitely not careful. When Rose leaves for the evening and with our parents gone, we have the house to ourselves.

  From downstairs, I text Kate.

  Dinner in the dining room in ten minutes.

  My phone buzzes with her message.

  You cooked dinner?

  I punch out a response.

  I didn't say that.

  She sends me back a text consisting of question marks, but I don't answer. Not even ten minutes later, she's standing in the doorway of the dining room, looking at me with her eyebrow arched. "I'm surprised you didn't burn yourself, cooking in that."

  I'm wearing a red and white checked apron.

  And nothing else.

  "There was no actual cooking involved," I say.

  "You lured me down here under false pretenses?" she asks.

  "There is food involved," I say, but I don't elaborate. Instead, I take out a blindfold and slip it over her head, covering her eyes.

  "What are you doing?" she asks softly, but she's not complaining. That's obvious in her voice, breathy and yearning.

  Slowly, I remove her clothing – slipping the straps of her sundress over her shoulders and watching it catch on her hips before it falls in a pile onto the floor. She's naked underneath the dress, her nipples hard, and when I trace my finger slowly over her skin, she shivers.

  "Cold?" I ask, my mouth near her ear.

  "If I say yes, does that mean you'll warm me up?" she asks.

  I don't answer. Instead, I touch the tip of my tongue lightly to her nipple, watching her lips fall open as I whirl my tongue in circles over her skin.

  When I stop, she lets out a tiny whimper, barely audible. I lead her to the dining room table, where I slide my hands under her thighs and deposit her bare ass right on table in front of her father's chair.

  "Am I where I think I am?" she whispers.

  "If you're wondering whether your ass is currently on the place where your father eats dinner, then yes, you're right where you think you are."

  "Caulter," she whispers. "We can't actually do this here –"

  I cut her off before she says anything else by covering her mouth with mine, kissing the question right off of her lips. "Lay down," I order, and she does it, despite her initial protest.

  And there she is, her exquisite naked body spread out on the table like a banquet. And it's all for me.

  I tease her mercilessly, lightly drizzling honey across her nipples and licking them until she's writhing beneath me, her thighs pressed together as she squirms.

  I pour vodka down her navel and drink it from her as she moans my name softly under her breath.

  I trace my fingers over every inch of her, taking my time to explore the map of her body.

  Finally, I take an ice cube in my mouth, spreading her legs to display her pussy. Her wetness glistens, signaling her obvious readiness for me, but when I touch my mouth to her, pushing the ice cube against her entrance, she squeals. "Caulter!"

  Her surprised scream turns into a low moan as I eat her wet pussy, the ice cube turning into water as it melts.

  Water that's flavored like Kate's pussy.

  That's the kind of water I could drink every day and never be satisfied.

  I eat her until the ice cube disappears, licking every last drop from her as she grabs my hair and pulls my face tighter against her. Her legs are draped over my shoulders, and she squeezes my head between her thighs as she starts to lose control.

  "Are you close, Princess?" I ask.

  "Yes, shit," she gasps.

  So I pull away from her, leaving her on the edge. And she squirms. She makes a frustrated groan, and she starts to pull up the blindfold to look at me, but I stop her. "The blindfold stays on, Kate," I say, removing my apron and tossing it aside.

  I don't give her what she wants just yet, despite the fact that I'm so hard I think I might explode right now. Instead, I tease her with the
head of my cock, pressing it against her entrance, then rubbing her clit as she tries to push her palms against the top of the table for support.

  "Touch your tits, Princess," I tell her. "I want to see you play with them the way I do."

  "Caulter," she says softly. But she massages them, her fingers stroking her nipples, and I know she's so close.

  "You're not going to come," I tell her as I slide the head of my cock inside her wet pussy and then stop. Fuck, she feels good. She's wet and tight and I want to stay inside her forever.

  "But I'm so close," she whines. "Please, Caulter."

  I rub her clit in circles as I thrust all the way inside her. And then I stop. I stop because I want to torment her, to bring her to the edge and not let her go all the way. But I also stop because if I move, I'm going to come inside her right now. And I want to savor this.

  "Do not come," I warn her, stroking her clit as I begin to fuck her now. Her pussy tightens around me, and it's all I can do to keep from flooding her with my cum. "Wait until I tell you."

  "Then…stop…doing…what…you're…doing," she says. So I thrust harder, over and over until she's calling out my name like it's a mantra.

  Caulter.

  Caulter.

  Caulter.

  Then she does it. She arches her back, letting out a loud cry, and she comes without waiting for me. Her muscles squeeze my cock mercilessly, and I close my eyes as she comes, willing myself not to do it.

  "Fuck," I scream, pulling out of her just in time to paint her body with my cum as I explode.

  Afterward, I look at her naked body, spread out on the table and splattered with my cum like she's a piece of modern art.

  She pulls the blindfold from her eyes, her mouth slightly open, her breath still short from her orgasm. "So…"

  "So…" I say.

  "So we're not having actual dinner, then?" she asks. "Because I'm kind of hungry."

  I pick up my discarded apron from the floor and throw it at her.