Let's Merry Christmas

by Frankie Love

  “Me too. It’s Christmas, right? And fuck, the last thing anyone needs is bickering on what should be the happiest days of the year.”

  “I know. I was being ridiculous,” I admit. “I was all, this day is the fucking worst! And then I realized it’s not actually true. I sat in a warm airport, drinking cold wine, and reading a book. Definitely first world problems.”

  “Fuck yeah.” He shakes his head. “In the grand scheme of things, not much to bitch about.”

  The woman with the baby and child leans over and glowers at us. Her friendly demeanor from earlier is gone. “Language, there are children present.”

  The mystery guy and I both raise eyebrows, nervously apologizing.

  “Guess my language isn’t PG,” he says.

  “Mine either, I swear, I say fuck every other – –” The woman, with one eyebrow raised, catches my eye. “Sorry,” I say biting my bottom lip, trying to fight a laugh. “That was so inappropriate,” I tell him.

  “I think we need a code word for the F-word.”

  “Agreed. Something cheerful. “

  “Not candy cane,” he says, which gets a laugh out of me.

  “And not Santa’s lap.”

  “How about Merry Christmas?” He shrugs. “That work?”

  “Merry Christmas is perfect.”

  “Well then, Merry Christmas, this day has been long. We need a drink.”

  “Merry Christmas, I know,” I moan. “I nearly quit my job, got locked out of my place, and missed a flight.”

  “And I’m opening a bar in a week and haven’t sold more than two dozen tickets to the grand opening New Year’s Eve party. Merry Christmas.”

  We talk about his bar and my PR degree. I immediately have about a hundred ideas for his launch, but try to not overwhelm him. Soon enough we’re chatting about our lives in Seattle, and find out we only live a few blocks away from one another.

  I can’t help but think that the more he talks, the cuter he is. He has dimples in his right cheek, bright blue eyes -- eyes that keep lingering at the V-neck of the shirt I’m wearing. At one point our hands brush against one another, and we both laugh nervously.

  “What are you reading?” he asks.

  I explain the mountain man romance novel, and he smiles, not judging, which is a surprise.

  “So you like those rough and rugged types of men?” he asks.

  I bite back a smile. “Yeah, I mean, I like the idea of a man who knows who he is and what he wants. No apologies. He meets the woman he wants and doesn’t hold back.”

  He takes a deep breath. “Girl,” he says. “You’re trouble, you know that?”

  I laugh. “No one ever says that to me.”

  “You fight, you know what you want -- it’s sexy as fu… as Merry Christmas.”

  I feel heat rising in my cheeks.

  “It makes me wanna go build a cabin in the woods if you’ll come with me.”

  I laugh. “You are so full of it.”

  Guys never hit on me like this. Not to say I don’t date or hook-up with men I meet….

  But a man who flirts so openly, with so much sex appeal? It’s a first.

  “Not full of it,” he says. “I mean it. I’d build that log house with my own two hands.”

  I can’t help but laugh, but honestly, my whole body is tingling with the pleasure of his compliments.

  When the drink cart arrives, we both order shots of whiskey.

  “I’d toast to us,” I say. “But I don’t even know your name.”

  “Bradley. And yours?”

  “I’m CeeCee.” I lift my plastic glass. “To less Merry Christmas-ed up days in the future.”

  “I’ll drink to that.”

  Chapter 4

  Bradley

  It’s a quick flight to Phoenix, and by the time we start our descent I’ve decided that there is more to CeeCee than I realized at first glance.

  When we first met, her fists were raised, her voice loud, and she was bigger than her petite frame would have led me to believe.

  And then I got to know her.

  For two hours, the two of us bullshit, talk about music and shows we’ve recently seen. Both of us seeming to prefer books to TV show marathons on Netflix.

  I tell her about my bar, how I don’t know how to get people to show up for the grand opening. She has all kinds of suggestions and looks shocked when I tell her I don’t even have a Facebook page set up yet. I appreciate her input. In fact, I tell her I should hire her.

  “I don’t know,” she says nervously. “I mean I’d love to take on something like that, but I don’t know if I have enough experience. I’ve been manning the front desk for the last two years, I don’t know if I want to get my feet wet with something so high-stakes as your livelihood.”

  “I bet you know more than you’re giving yourself credit for.”

  She just smiles and takes another sip of her whiskey.

  “You’ll have to come to my bar when it opens.” The plane has landed and we’re grabbing our luggage from the overhead compartments.

  “That would be cool, what is the name of it again?”

  “The signage says Wet Whistle, but I’m thinking I should name it something else.”

  We’re walking into the terminal now, and we stop, facing one another realizing this is goodbye. She is so much smaller than me, and I have this ridiculous idea of pulling her into my arms and kissing her. I’d make it softer than I usually kiss women.

  “Oh yeah?” she asks. “What should you name it?”

  “Something like The Mountain Man’s Bar,” I smile, liking her surprised expression. “That would’ve gotten you to come, right?”

  “Yeah, I can see it now. You could hang antlers on the wall and have a big fireplace roaring. It could be cozy, but sexy too. You could require a beard on every man that walks in.”

  “Well, there actually are antlers on the walls.”

  “Then I’m guessing it’s more hipster than mountain man.”

  “Is there a difference?”

  She laughs and takes a deep sigh. “It’s pretty dead in here.”

  We look around the airport, and see that the other passengers from our flight have quickly left the gate; no one wants to be here longer than necessary. It’s after midnight, officially Christmas Day.

  “Yeah, no one’s around. Hope that poor lady with the kids has some help on this end,” I say.

  “That’s the thing about you, Bradley. You say some really surprising things.”

  I run my hand over my beard, thinking that this girl has no idea. “You think the things I say are surprising? I don’t think you’d know what to do with the things I’m thinking.

  “Try me.”

  Maybe it’s the way she says it, so plainly, so clearly. And damn I’ve been looking at her tits for two hours straight, loving the way her sweater pulls tight across them, her little nipples showing through. I’ve watched her eyes as they roam over me; I know she wants what I can offer.

  No woman looks at a man like that if she isn’t having her own dirty thoughts.

  I step towards her and take a gamble. “Let’s Merry Christmas.”

  She laughs, but then her eyes get wide. “Merry Christmas like Merry Christmas?”

  “Why not? It’s Christmas morning. Who knows if we’ll actually see one another again? And even if we do, I have a feeling I’m never gonna forget this night one way or another. But I think if we Merry Christmas before we say goodbye, it would go down in history as the best Christmas morning of my life.”

  “Okay.” She grins. “Let’s Merry Christmas.”

  We stand there, face to face, looking at one another, and I realize she’s just given me permission to fuck her here and now.

  She didn’t blow it off like a joke and it affirms everything I thought was passing between us on that flight. It wasn’t the whiskey talking; it was chemistry, plain and simple.

  I grab her hand. “Let’s find somewhere quiet so I can unwrap my Christma
s gift.”

  Chapter 5

  CeeCee

  It doesn’t take long for us to find a storage closet. In a minute, the door is locked behind us and we’ve dropped our bags.

  I can’t believe that he’s suggested having a quick Merry Christmas with me, but I’m more shocked that I so willingly agreed to it.

  But I also can’t believe my luck. Just when I was ready to give up on this holiday altogether. And the fact the person who I was fighting with just hours ago is now staring at me with eyes full of desire -- I feel like I somehow won the Christmas lottery.

  Merry Christmas indeed.

  “Do you have sex with very many strangers?” I ask, raising my eyebrows, teasing.

  “Nope. Can’t say I do. And you?”

  I shake my head, having never done something so reckless in my life. So romantically reckless. This encounter could give a romance novel a run for its money.

  “I think we should just like, go for it. You should rip my clothes off and do all sorts of naughty things to me,” I tell him. Then I cover my face with my hands, not quite believing I just said that out loud.

  “Oh, I’ll do all sorts of naughty things to you, CeeCee.”

  And that’s when I realize, you don’t have to have sex with lots of strangers to make this work -- you just need to know your way around a woman.

  He may not be the quintessential mountain man of my novels, but he definitely is all man. He’s lifting the hem of my shirt and I raise my arms instinctively. Then he runs his hands over my breasts, then up along my collarbone, before holding my face.

  He most definitely knows what he’s doing.

  “I’m going to kiss you now, CeeCee.”

  I manage to eke out a yes, and then his lips are on mine. Pressing against me, soft and wanting, his palms cradle my cheeks and our mouths part.

  Then his tongue is against mine. Exploring my mouth, giving me a rush of excitement, realizing what’s to come.

  If his kisses feel like this... I can only imagine his cock deep inside of me.

  “Oh, CeeCee, you’re so hot, I wanted to rip off your clothes when we were on the airplane. I wanted you to straddle me, and ride my cock across the sky.”

  I toss back my head. “A little cheesy, Bradley. But I like the sentiment. I wanted you to rip off my clothes, too. I want you to do that now.”

  I’m panting for breath as he leaves a trail of kisses from my mouth to my chest. He pulls down the lacy cups of my bra and lets my breasts fall out. He fills his mouth with my nipple, rolling his tongue around the hard nub.

  In an instant, my pussy is wet, full of desire. My hands wrap around his waist, squeezing his ass, and fumbling at his jeans. I managed to unzip them as he unhooks my bra, as if not wanting anything in his way.

  His jeans fall to the ground and my hand moves under his boxers.

  His hands are under the waistband of my pants, too; his cold fingers grabbing my ass from underneath my panties.

  “I bet your cock is so big.”

  “I bet your pussy is so wet.”

  My eyes close as my hands wrap around his hard, stiff, cock. I squeeze him ever so slightly, and he groans against me, his mouth crashing back against mine, as I stroke him nice and slow.

  “You like that, Bradley? You like it when I touch you?”

  “Hmmm,” Bradley moans his answer.

  His fingers find my pussy, and rub against my well-trimmed mound, touching me in soft yet determined ways.

  He is going to undo me.

  “I’ve got to have you naked. Now,” he tells me.

  Obediently, I step out of my pants and my shoes, pulling down my panties as I do. Making sure I turn so he sees my backside as I bend over, my ass on display.

  For him.

  He grabs my ass cheeks, rolling them in his palms, his fingers running down my slit from behind, all the way to my pussy. His fingers flutter over my sensitive spots. I know he can feel how wet I am for him.

  I turn back around, facing him and see he’s stepped out of his clothes too. His chest is chiseled, muscles and strength, covered in inky tattoos. But my eyes run over him quickly and are drawn to his package.

  Without his boxers concealing his cock, it is strong and at attention. Forceful and ready.

  “Holy Merry Christmas,” I tell him. “Your cock is fucking huge.”

  “You mean, it’s Merry Christmas huge.”

  “Exactly.” I lick my lips, relishing his ten-inch cock. Wondering how something so big and delicious could be meant for me.

  I’m also wondering how in the Merry Christmas it’s going to fit in my pussy.

  “You’re going to have to get me nice and ready if you want to fill me with that.”

  Bradley nods, stepping towards me, his hand between my legs he lifts my knee up, and my leg wraps around him, his fingers finding my center.

  “I will get you nice and ready, baby.” He picks me up and sets me down on the table. My ass is on the edge, my pussy dripping with desire. He takes his cock and lets the tip of it run up and down against me. I can’t help but touch it, stroking him, letting my hands hold his balls. I love the way they feel in my hands, tight and heavy.

  “Your tits are so huge,” he groans, unable to resist touching them. “I want to titty fuck you until my cum is all over you.”

  “Then do it,” I tell him. “Titty fuck me and make me drink your cum. Get it all over me, baby. Give me a White Christmas.”

  Chapter 6

  Bradley

  “Are you sure you’re okay with getting on the floor?” I ask her. She doesn’t answer, instead, her curvy bare body just moves from the table and spreads out my flannel shirt and her sweater, and then she lies down.

  “I want you to do this to me,” she murmurs as seductively as a pussycat. “I’ve never done it before, but you’re right, my tits are perfect for it. Put your cock between them and fuck me hard.”

  This girl is fucking unreal. Everything about her is insanely perfect. Her tits, her round little ass, her feisty words and her willingness to try new things.

  Fuck, there are so many things I’d like to try with her.

  “If you’re sure.”

  She nods again and parts her legs as I walk toward her, and her knees drop open. Her fingers roll over her bare little pussy. She’s rubbing herself, and she knows exactly what she’s doing.

  “You like to touch yourself?”

  “I love to touch myself. Most nights I read a book on my Kindle, my other hand under the covers, moving over my clit, until my hand is nice and wet, until my pussy is slick. Until my knees are buckling and my legs are shaking. That’s what I like to do. Because I’ve never had a man who could pleasure me the way I can pleasure myself.”

  I take a deep breath, knowing my cock is going to pleasure her plenty.

  I sit on top of her and press my stiff cock between her perfect tits. She presses her hands on her breasts, creating friction between my cock and her tits.

  I move my hips, pressing against her, watching as her tongue darts from her lips, rolling around the tip of my cock as I move in and out, back and forth.

  My cock’s rock hard at the sight of her tits, her parted mouth, and her pussy.

  Everything about her screams “fuck me now.” She’s both innocent and a vixen. She is the perfect Christmas gift.

  “I’m coming fast and hard. You ready for that, baby?” I ask her.

  “Yes. I’m ready. Explode all over me. And then I want you to put that cock in my pussy. My nice pussy. You promise to do that?”

  Her words get me even harder, and that’s fucking impossible. I thrust against her, as she touches her tits, she rolls her nipples in her fingers.

  And then I cum against her breasts coating them in my cream. I shoot ribbons of my release against her soft and supple skin. She’s moaning in pleasure, and I haven’t even gotten her off yet.

  She’s moaning because she’s so turned on by getting me off.

  Which gets me of
f even harder.

  “Oh my God, Bradley, fuck me. Now. Don’t make me wait.”

  I growl her ear, “I won’t make you wait, baby. I’m gonna make you scream.”

  I grab a condom from my jeans; roll it on quickly, before spreading her nice little pussy lips farther apart. On my knees, I dip my head between them and I flick my tongue up and down her sweet little folds.

  “I’m gonna fuck you, CeeCee. But first I need to taste you.”

  When I look at her bare cunt, my cock grows hard again.

  Her pussy is sweet, and I lap it up, her creamy cunt tells me she likes it.

  My tongue rolls over her clit, and I move fast, remembering the way she was touching herself.

  Then, when she’s nice and juicy, I fill her with my hardness.

  I inch my cock into her, nice and slow, knowing otherwise I would hurt this sweet little girl.

  “Oh, oh, it burns.”

  “Do you want me to stop?” I ask, moving slowly against her.

  “Don’t you dare stop. I want to get past the burn; I want to be filled completely by you. Fill me up with your big hard cock.”

  I don’t ask again, instead, I deepen my thrusts until my cock is filling her tight little pussy. As I move against her, she presses her hands against my chest and then wraps her arms around my neck.

  She’s moaning, her back is arched, her tits bobbing up and down as I fuck her hard. As I fuck her with the intensity only a ten-inch cock can offer.

  “Yes, yes, it feels so…” I never hear the rest of the words because then she’s just moaning. Whimpering against me as I rock against her.

  Hard. Hard. Harder.

  Until we both cum. Her legs wrap around me, my hands cup her face.

  “CeeCee,” I tell her as our orgasms wash over us. “You seriously know how to Merry Christmas.”

  Chapter 7

  CeeCee

  By the time we dress and leave the storage closet, it’s after one in the morning.