The Grump Who Stole Christmas: Kringle Family Christmas Book One

by S Doyle

  She gave a full body shrug but didn’t reply.

  She was holding on to something. I was sure of it.

  “Tell me you know that about yourself,” I insisted. “Tell me you get how freaking amazing you are.”

  She picked her head up again, her pointy chin digging into my chest.

  “I’m not so amazing.”

  “You’re Kristen Kringle, Vice President of Hart’s Insurance. You’re on track to be one of the youngest female CEOs of a publicly traded company. I, more than anyone, know that’s not easy to accomplish.”

  That’s when I saw tears in her eyes, just ready to spill over those dark eyelashes.

  This was it, I realized. This, whatever she was about to say next, was what she’d been holding on to.

  “I’m none of those things,” she whispered. “Four weeks ago yesterday…I was fired.”

  13

  Kristen

  I waited to see some kind of reaction. He would be the first person I’d even breathed the words to. This was something I hadn’t been able to say out loud. Because I couldn’t bear hearing it.

  I had been fired. They’d let me go. My employment had been terminated.

  Hart’s had recently merged with another insurance company, and as departments were consolidated and positions reconsidered, I was one of the people at the top they fired.

  I had a reputation for no bullshit, which admittedly had pissed off a few of the higher-ups along the way. I hadn’t realized there had been a target on my back the whole time.

  When they’d brought me into the conference room, I should have had an inkling. Seven men in suits with grim faces and one woman, from the merged company, who wouldn’t look me in the eye. My guess was that she’d taken my job.

  Things had to change at the top, they’d said. A new culture shift in management, they’d told me.

  It was all bullshit.

  “Kay,” he whispered, and tucked some of my hair behind my ear. “Why didn’t you say something?”

  “How could I? You hear how my family talks about me. About who I am. I’m Kristen, the big deal VP from New York. That’s what I’ve accomplished this whole time I’ve been away. And in one meeting on a Friday afternoon, it was gone. All of it. The big office, the admin assistant, the title…poof. When I finally got home and let myself feel anything, all I could do was look around my empty New York apartment and ask myself what it had it all been for? All the weekends where I just popped into the office for a quick hour and ended up staying all night. Every event I canceled at the last minute so I could stay at work. All the times…” I hiccupped, my breath catching. “All the times I told my mom and dad I couldn’t make it home for the holidays. All that time with my mother, lost. Then I turned around and did the same thing to my dad. Just leaving him to deal with everything. I am at fault. I do have regrets. There is so much I’m to blame for.”

  There. It was out. I’d vomited my truth out to Paul, and strangely I immediately felt better. I’d been holding tight to this secret for so long, because somewhere in the back of my brain I thought if I didn’t say it, it didn’t happen.

  My issues with denial went deep.

  “You’re more than just your job, Kay-Kay.”

  I settled back into his chest. His body was so warm I couldn’t feel the chilly air in the house. We were in his cabin, away from everyone, under a pile of blankets, and I never wanted to leave this space.

  Which seemed pretty intense given how long I’d known Paul. He just felt so safe to me. Like this anchor that was holding me to the ground, while everything else was up in the air floating around me.

  “I don’t think I am,” I whispered. Another terrible confession.

  He turned then, until he was facing me. We were lying side to side now, still under the blankets, the late afternoon light was fading.

  “What are you going to do?” he asked.

  I wanted to laugh except it wasn’t funny. “That is an excellent question. I have no idea. I contacted a bunch of headhunters. Let them know I was looking. But walking into a VP position doesn’t just happen. Not to mention the stigma of being fired leaves a mark. Executives bounce around between jobs all the time, but it’s on their terms. The minute they get fired, there’s a perception they’re not on their game anymore.”

  “I see. So there is no real hurry for you to get back to New York.”

  “No.”

  “And you have all this work to do here, trying to save the inn.”

  “That’s true. I’ve been so busy, I haven’t really had a second to think about the future.”

  “Plus there’s that other orgasm you owe me.”

  I pressed my naked body up to his and felt that his dick was at half-mast. Not too bad after I’d exploded his brain and body with my mad blow job game. I had always been the very best student.

  “You let me know when you’re ready for round two, old man,” I told him.

  “Well, here’s the problem. It appears you’re going to owe me two orgasms again.”

  “What? Are you suggesting you didn’t come? Because I’m here to tell you…”

  He put his fingers over my mouth. “No, see the problem is balance. You owed me two, gave me one, only now I’m going to give you one, so we’re back up to two for me. Are you following the math?”

  All I heard was that he was going to give me an orgasm. Which sounded really, really nice. I wanted to lie on this air mattress and let him do wicked things to my body until I couldn’t think anymore.

  Until the past and the future were blurry nonexistent things and all there was was the present. This moment. Now.

  “Now, we do have to cover a few things first,” he said kissing my shoulder. Then the space between my breasts. My bra had a front clasp, which he deftly unhooked. My nipples were hard and tight little buds in anticipation of his touch.

  “What things?” I asked, as I moved my body to hopefully align my nipple with his mouth. But he was pressing kisses all around my breast, teasing me with his lips.

  “You have beautiful nipples,” he said as he hovered over them. “I want to play with them and I’ll let you play with mine, but to be clear, there should be no twisting involved.”

  A small wave of embarrassment washed over me. “You saw that, huh?”

  “Yep. Let me tell you, I had to think long and hard about letting you anywhere near my nipples.”

  He took my hand and rested my fingers over one of his hard buds, which were hiding under a smattering of dark chest hair.

  “But I’ve decided to trust you.”

  His mouth dipped then, and then he was teasing my breast with his tongue. It felt so good, I almost let it go. Almost succumbed to the magic of his touch and his mouth.

  But some evil part inside me couldn’t just let his warning go unanswered.

  “Paul, something you should know about me, about my family.”

  “Hmm,” he said, as he moved from my right breast to my left in a string of sweet hot, kisses.

  “We always play a little dirty.” And with that warning, I pinched his nipple between my thumb and forefinger and twisted it as hard as I could.

  “Ow!” he shouted and rolled to his back.

  “I couldn’t help myself. I had to do it!”

  I rolled onto my back and howled with laughter even as he rubbed his chest and scowled at me. My laughter was short lived, however, when his fingers reached for the spot just under my ribs.

  “Okay, Kay-Kay. You want war. You got war. How ticklish are you?”

  “No! No! No!”

  I was ridiculously ticklish.

  He was on top of me then, his fingers finding my most sensitive spots along my ribs until I was laughing and squirming and doing everything I could to avoid his touch. But not avoid his touch, because that was the fun of tickles. They didn’t hurt. They just made you a little crazy.

  He was laughing maniacally on top of me. I was laughing so hard I almost lost my breath until suddenly he stopped. He
pinned my arms above my head and settled his glorious weight over my body, so that I couldn’t move.

  “You’re so much more than a job,” he whispered, his lips just above mine in our cocoon of blankets.

  I could feel his erection, now long, hard, and hot, pressed against my belly.

  “And I want every part of you,” he added. He stripped me of my panties, then lifted my leg around his waist. “I’m going to come inside you now.”

  “Condom?” I squeaked.

  “Birth control?”

  “Pill,” I answered.

  “I’m clean. You?”

  I nodded. Part of me knew we shouldn’t do this. I’d never had sex without a condom in my life. Opening myself up to him, without that barrier, felt scary. Like I was taking this big leap of faith. It made no sense that I should do that with Paul. We barely knew each other. We barely liked each other.

  Except that wasn’t true, was it? It was just another thing I was in denial about. I did like Paul. I liked Paul a lot. I came out to this cabin looking for him because I just wanted to see him. Wanted to be with him. Wanted to spar with him, or eat brownies with him, or have him cook something for me. Anything. Because I was happier when I was around him and I hadn’t been happy in so long.

  So, so long.

  He pressed his cock inside me and it almost felt overwhelming. Like a hot force that just broke me open from the inside.

  “Tell me how you like it, baby,” he muttered, even as he bent to kiss my neck. I really liked it when he did that. “Nice and sweet? A little rough?”

  You mean there were choices? For me, intercourse was always something that just needed to be done. Something I let a man do because I was supposed to want it. Which of course I did, it’s just that I’d never come from intercourse before, so for me it didn’t matter all that much how the man did it.

  But I wanted something different today. I wanted Paul to fuck me and make me come and make everything else go away.

  “Rough. Hard. So I can’t think. Can you do that?”

  I didn’t have to ask because he was already doing that. Holding me down, thrusting into me so hard even my small breasts were jiggling. I tilted my head back and groaned. Yes, this was what I wanted.

  Only Paul’s definition of rough sex wasn’t just a quick pounding until he came.

  Instead he pulled out, flipped me until I was on my stomach. Pulled my hips and ass up high and then slid into me from behind. I dropped my face into one of his pillows and screamed, it felt so good. So raw and earthy. The slap of his hips against my ass, the stabbing of his big cock deep into my pussy.

  I didn’t curse because of my mom. I didn’t talk dirty because, well, I just never had. But I had this feeling like I had all this stuff inside me that I wanted to let out.

  “No screaming into the pillow, Kay-Kay. We’re alone out here in the woods. I want to hear those sounds!”

  He pulled his dick out and I lifted my head, my neck arched.

  “More! Now!”

  “That’s better. Want do you want, Kay-Kay? I want to hear it.”

  “I want your dick back!” I shouted. “Please just fuck me. Hard. Please Paul!”

  He thrust back inside, while at the same time his big large hand came down on my ass. An explosion of heat tore through my whole body.

  “That’s right, Kay-Kay. I play a little dirty too.”

  He slapped my other ass cheek and it was glorious. The pounding didn’t stop either. I could barely breath I was panting so hard. That tight feeling was happening between my legs and I almost couldn’t believe it. I was going to come. Just from this.

  “Come on my cock, baby,” he urged me. “That’s it. Squeeze me hard. Let go. Let it all go.”

  I did. I exploded and screamed, my body clamping down on his. I felt his deep thrust. Heard his harsh groan, the rush of his come filling me up.

  I’d never felt that before.

  It was like sex had always been this moderately enjoyable physical activity.

  Except this was not that. This was much bigger. Realistically, I knew I couldn’t get pregnant because I was on the pill. But this was how I might get pregnant if I were off it. With Paul grunting behind me, fucking me deep while I squeezed his cock, wanting to hold him tight.

  I collapsed onto the mattress, my body splayed out and he fell next to me, breathing as hard as I was.

  “That was…” I started and stopped. I didn’t really know how to describe what that was.

  “Yeah. I know. Me too,” he muttered. “Stay with me tonight, Kay. I want you in my arms all night.”

  Part of me thought that was a bad idea. Too close. Too much intimacy. Too soon. I mean, eventually this had to end. Eventually I had to go back to New York. To my life. To whatever new job I was going to get, so that I could be that person again. Boss lady.

  Because that’s who I was.

  Right?

  His hand came down on my ass again. A slap, but not too hard.

  “Stop thinking. I can hear your crazy brain from here. Just snuggle in and take a nap with me.”

  “Yeah. Okay.” I squished up next to him, snuggled in, and promptly fell asleep.

  14

  Kristen

  The next morning I walked through the tree farm on the way back to the house. The sun was just up; it couldn’t be much past six in the morning.

  I’d left Paul sleeping and wondered if he’d be angry for ditching him without a goodbye, but it was all becoming a little too much to handle.

  I’d slept naked in his arms last night. It was among the many things I’d never done before, but had done with him last night.

  I didn’t want to leave him, so I had to leave him just to make sure I could.

  After all, as soon as I left Salt Springs, he’d start searching for the future Mrs. McCleer and I didn’t want that to hurt. As much as I feared it might hurt already.

  When I got to the house everything was still quiet, which was a good thing. I didn’t know if Matt was staying in his old room. Or probably in one of the empty cabins at the inn, if I knew my brother. He preferred his space.

  As much of a disaster as yesterday had been, I had to admit it was nice to see Matt again. Yes, to the world he was this great big hero hockey player, but to me he was, and always would be, my little brother who I got to boss around.

  This week, having him around, it would be fun.

  Quietly as I could, I made my way upstairs. Dad’s bedroom door was still closed so it didn’t look like he was up yet, which was good.

  Although why, at thirty-six, I was worried about my dad catching me doing the walk of shame the next morning, I didn’t know.

  Maybe because I knew I had a hickey. I really, really liked it when Paul sucked on my neck, so there was absolutely no hiding what we’d been doing all night.

  If I had to guess, my dad would disapprove. He was a pretty free thinker, but he didn’t believe messing around should ever just be for fun. Or casual. It should only be if you thought you could be serious about that person.

  Obviously, there was no chance that Paul and I would ever be serious. Our lives were going in two totally different directions. He was looking for the future Mrs. McCleer and I was searching for my next job. Or at least I would start seriously searching soon. I’d told myself it was okay to have a grieving period. The fact that it coincided with my dad needing me home was really just a great coincidence.

  I should probably tell Dad about getting fired. That was probably too big a secret to keep to myself. I did feel so much more relieved having told someone what happened.

  In my room, I pulled off my clothes, slipped on a robe, and headed to the bathroom to take a long, hot shower.

  For hours with Paul, I hadn’t had to think. For hours, I could just be. For hours, I was just with him. Really with him.

  Now I was back in my skin, back in my head, and already thinking about the list of things that had to get done today to pull off the Christmas Eve event that was happe
ning in a matter of days.

  And I was missing Paul already.

  This was not good.

  “I think I’m fucked,” I said aloud, even as I felt a tightness in my chest that felt like something super big. Something super important.

  Then, because I couldn’t help it. “Sorry, Mom.”

  Showered, dressed professionally, I was ready to tackle the day. I headed over to the inn and was happy to see some activity. It felt like there were more people milling about, which was good. Even as I stepped inside, I could hear the phone ringing. That was excellent.

  I heard a voice saying, “Hello, thank you for calling the Kringle Inn. How can I help you?”

  Excellent. Very professional. When dad told me Ethan had hired someone young to help after Rhonda left, I was worried, of course, that she wouldn’t be mature enough to handle a job like that. The customer experience at the Kringle Inn was important. And good hospitality skills were key to whoever was working the front desk.

  That was the face our guests first saw. The first voice they heard when booking a reservation. At least I knew she had a professional tone.

  Excited to meet Tiffani, I believed that was her name, I smiled and stopped dead when I spotted the woman behind the front desk.

  That was not a young lady helping out. That was a drop dead gorgeous grown woman who basically glowed. Big blond hair. Big boobs. They couldn’t be real, could they? She was tall and stacked and tanned. She was also one of those women who wore a lot of makeup, but it actually all worked on her. She didn’t look overdone, she looked like perfection.

  She had to be someone famous. Oh shit, was this someone who maybe followed Matt? Some star actress or supermodel who was chasing him down? My brother had a thing for actresses and models.

  Cautiously, I approached the front desk.

  “Hi,” I said.

  Why would a supermodel chasing after Matt be behind the front desk?