White Hot Holidays 15: Santa's Helpers Read online

  “That miniskirt was torture. Whenever you leaned down to talk to one of the kids, I kept hoping it would ride up just a little higher, and flash a glimpse of your candy-cane-patterned ass. And the way you were sucking on that peppermint stick today.” He closed his eyes and groaned, his cock stirring sluggishly against her thigh. “I was torn between picturing the peppermint stick wet with the juice from your pussy, and imagining your hot, wet mouth sucking on my cock. Sometimes I pictured pumping you with the peppermint stick while you sucked my cock.”

  “We’ve already done your first peppermint stick fantasy, and you know how much I enjoyed it. Maybe we should try the second one, and see if you like it as much as I did.”

  His eyes flew open. “You want to suck me off? I didn’t think girls went for that.”

  “Well I wouldn’t do it for just any guy. But—”

  Her cell phone trilled the theme from a spy movie.

  Marissa’s eyes widened. “Shit! What time is it? Never mind. I know. That’s my alarm. I’ve got to get going now, or I’ll be late for the Christmas Eve dinner.”

  “Can’t you call them and let them know you’re running late?”

  “And tell them what? That I had to stop and make love to my coworker before I left? Dean, this is my parents. And my cousins would never let me hear the end of it. No. I’ve got to go, now. If I hurry, I can still make it.”

  She fished her phone out of her cubby, turned off the alarm, then cursed nonstop while she grabbed her scattered clothes.

  Thong panty. Bra. Then jeans and sweater from her cubby. Beside her, Dean scrambled into his own clothes, going commando rather than trying to free his boxers from the tangled mess of tights and knickers.

  She pulled her sweater over her head. “I smell like sex. Where’s the puke spray?”

  “I’ll get it. You finish dressing.”

  Dean unlatched the door of the shed and went out into Santa’s Wonderland in only jeans and a sweater, his feet completely bare. He had very nice feet.

  Damn it, she didn’t have time to think about his feet! She stuffed her own feet into her sneakers, ripping the stupid elf boot toppers away. Then she ran her fingers through her hair, wishing again that there was a mirror in the shed. She picked up her coat and purse, checked for anything else in her cubby, then exited the shed.

  The lid on the false present banged shut, and Dean hurried back through the curtain, the aerosol can of holiday fragrance they used to cover up the smell of children’s vomit or urine clutched in his hand.

  “Hold your breath.”

  He sprayed her with the concentrated pine and cranberry fragrance, giving her crotch a liberal dousing and the rest of her a light spritz.

  “Don’t worry about your costume. I’ll take care of everything. You run.”

  “Sorry.”

  She turned and ran for the East exit.

  She pushed through the double doors, gasping at the cold air biting her nose and throat. Too late to zip up her coat now. Clutching it closed, she raced for her car. It was one of the few vehicles left in the lot.

  Marissa pulled open the door, jumped in, and slammed the door shut hard enough to rock the car. The ignition caught on the second try, and she raced from the lot.

  She sped past glittering homes and businesses. But she didn’t see them. Her thoughts were entirely upon what had just happened, remembering the feel of Dean’s hands and lips and tongue on her, in her, and shattering her again and again. Her skin tingled, her blood pulsing hot and heavy, and throbbing between her legs. Three times hadn’t been nearly enough.

  “Oh, damn!” She’d never given Dean her cell phone number.

  Would he still want to call her, to make plans for that date they’d discussed? Or was he one of those guys who lost interest after he got into a girl’s pants?

  No, Dean wasn’t like that. He’d call her. Or at least, he would have, if she’d given him her number. Damn, damn, double damn.

  She’d just have to find a way to call him. There was no way she was waiting until January to see him again.

  Chapter Five

  Taking advantage of the unusually deserted roads, Marissa managed to get home just before eight o’clock. Her cousins didn’t leave until midnight, and she collapsed into bed as soon as they were gone. She was too exhausted to dream of Dean.

  She woke on Christmas morning delightfully tired and sore, remembering everything they’d done. But she had no time to indulge herself. The house was already awake, and waiting for her to shower and dress so they could exchange presents. Then they attended the holiday service in the packed church, and prepared and ate the Christmas feast of roast turkey, stuffing and five kinds of vegetables, followed by apple and pumpkin pies.

  Relaxing in the post-dinner quiet, Marissa thought about what had happened the night before.

  At first, the memory filled her with a warm glow. Just thinking of the way Dean had touched and kissed her, how he had teased her until she thought she’d die from the tension before granting her a glorious release, made her skin tingle and her pulse pound. Her breasts tightened, aching for his touch, and her clit throbbed in anticipation. If she slipped her fingers inside her panties, they’d come away wet.

  That reminded her of his fingers thrusting into her vagina, kneading and stroking, while his thumb rubbed her clit until she exploded.

  She struggled to breathe normally, her skin too tight over her hot and pulsing body. Excusing herself from the conversation that she’d been ignoring anyway, she retreated to the half bathroom at the far end of the house. She locked the door with trembling fingers, then pulled down her panties and slid her fingers between her hot folds.

  Closing her eyes, she imagined Dean’s hard cock thrusting into her, and tried to mimic his three short strokes before he buried himself all the way to his balls. In her mind, she heard his husky whisper, urging her onward.

  “Come on, baby. You can do it.”

  But she couldn’t do it. Not without him. The memory wasn’t enough. She needed Dean himself, feeling the heat of his sweaty flesh as their bodies slapped together, smelling the salty, spicy scent of him.

  Desperately, she shoved three fingers deep into her vagina, as far as she could go. She clenched her inner muscles around her fingers, stroking the slick, wet walls. With her other hand, she mauled her clit, rubbing it faster and harder with each stroke.

  A rushing filled her ears, the light in the bathroom fading, and she was blinking, panting for air, feeling the slow, heavy pulse throb against her fingers.

  She pulled her hands away and stood on quivering legs. After washing her hands and between her legs, she straightened her clothes and unlocked the door. It was no good. The brief release only made her body hunger for Dean, and the shattering orgasms she experienced in his arms.

  The difference between the mild release she could give herself and the transformational experience with Dean proved that what they shared was more than merely physical. Partly, it was the way he was so attentive to her desires, so focused on giving her pleasure. But it was also the way he knew her so well that he anticipated desires she hadn’t even known she’d had.

  She needed to see him again, and soon. What about that date he’d suggested? Was he planning on waiting until school started up again in January? That was forever away from now!

  But she’d never given him her cell phone number, and she didn’t have his. Clearly an oversight. Carol had kept a master list of everyone’s phone numbers, and if she’d needed to reach him for any reason, such as car trouble that would delay her and leave him the only elf on duty, the policy was to call Carol, who would decide if any other workers needed to be called.

  Marissa knew that Carol would not think her current situation warranted a phone call, and would probably dock her pay for daring to call her on Christmas day.

  The longer she thought about it, the more worried she grew. Dean was a senior, a varsity member of both the baseball and track teams, and a member of a frat house
well known for their joint parties with loose and willing sorority sisters. Their one encounter had demonstrated beyond a doubt that he was a skilled and experienced lover, far more experienced than she was.

  Was she reading more emotion into their encounter than she should? They’d become more than just friends, but what if they were simply “friends with benefits” rather than boyfriend and girlfriend? She couldn’t wait until January to resolve this. She’d go insane.

  Belatedly, she thought of trying his landline. He’d said he was staying with his parents until the frat house reopened in January. She wasn’t sure exactly where he lived, but there couldn’t be that many DeMarcos in the phone book.

  She hunted up the phone book in the kitchen, then realized she wasn’t certain how Dean spelled his last name. She’d only ever heard him say it, not seen it written out. Was it DeMarco, Demarco, DiMarco, or Dimarco? Counting all four spellings, there were twenty-seven DeMarcos listed. If Dean had been the eldest son, she’d have taken a guess that he was named for his father, and look at listings for D. or Dean. But he was the youngest, which didn’t help at all.

  Thinking that he might try the same thing, she looked up her own name next. There were thirty-five Bradleys. That was even worse.

  She put the phone book away, and stared dully out the window. More snow had fallen overnight, layering the shrubs and grass in a glittering coat of white. It was beautiful. But she’d rather be looking at the gray and churned up slush lining the campus walkways, because then she’d know how to find Dean.

  Not in the mood to be sociable, she retreated upstairs to her bedroom. Sooner or later someone would track her down and force her to smile and do the pretty with her relatives, but for now, she could sulk in private.

  The cheery trill of her cell phone interrupted her funk. Marissa grabbed it, eager to confide in one of her girlfriends.

  “Merry Christmas!”

  “Merry Christmas, Marissa,” Dean replied.

  “Dean? But, how—”

  He laughed, the sound soothing all her earlier fear and frustrations. “It wasn’t easy. I realized last night you’d left before I could get your cell number. I was hoping the fashion department had a department directory, like the economics department does. So I called my friend Rudy, who’s on the baseball team with me. His apartment mate is dating someone in the fashion department. She was home for the holidays, and couldn’t look you up, but knew someone who’d stayed on campus. So I got your number, and called.”

  “You did all that for me?” Her warm glow threatened to become a nuclear meltdown. Definitely more than just friends with benefits. He really liked her.

  “I’d do more if I had to. I told you, I want to see you again.”

  “I thought maybe you meant in January, after school starts.”

  He hesitated. “Did you want to wait until then?”

  “No! But there were twenty-seven DeMarcos in the phone book, and thirty-five Bradleys, and I didn’t know how we’d be able to link up before then.”

  “You tried to get my number, too?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Listen, what are you doing this evening? Are you free?”

  “Yeah. My house is filled with adults napping after too much roast turkey, and teenaged boys zoning out in front of video games. They won’t miss me if I go out.”

  “I’ll come over and pick you up. We can look at the holiday lights.”

  Marissa smiled. The two of them, alone in a car, able to talk and touch to their hearts’ content. “Sounds wonderful.”

  She gave him directions, then quickly changed into a pair of jeans embroidered with scrolling ivy, and a fuzzy green and red sweater.

  “A friend’s coming over to pick me up. We’re going out to look at the holiday lights,” she told her mother.

  Marissa fidgeted, looking out the windows to check the street, then going up to her room for her pocketbook, then checking the windows, then getting her coat, then checking the windows again. She saw an unfamiliar SUV roll to a slow stop before her house.

  Dean got out and headed up the walk, holding something hidden in his hands. She had the door open before he could ring the bell.

  He held out a small stuffed bear wearing a Santa hat and a green vest, with its arms wrapped around a large peppermint stick. A red bow was stuck on the side of the candy.

  “Merry Christmas. It reminded me of you.”

  Her cheeks flamed. It was an innocent looking gift, and the bear was downright adorable. But she knew what it reminded him of. Laughing, she walked hand in hand with Dean through the twilight to the SUV.

  He opened the door and gave her a chivalrous hand up into the SUV, necessary because the snow made stepping on the running boards a tricky proposition. Once he’d gotten himself settled, and the SUV moving, he reached over to hold her hand again.

  “When I woke up this morning, it was the first Christmas I wasn’t thinking about what presents I was going to get, or how my family would react to the presents I was giving them. All I could think about was making love to you last night, and how much I wanted to see you again.”

  “Me too.” She squeezed his fingers then lifted his hand up to kiss it. The kiss turned into something more, though, as she ran her tongue across the back of his hand and down his index finger, then pulled his fingertip into her mouth and suckled it.

  Dean groaned and squirmed in his seat. “Oh, God. Not while I’m driving.”

  “I should stop, then?”

  “No! I mean, yes. For now.”

  She gave his hand one last open-mouthed kiss then released it. Dean clenched the steering wheel with far more force than necessary.

  They talked of inconsequentials for the rest of the ride, discussing which bands would be appearing at local clubs in the next few weeks, and if they were worth hearing. Meanwhile, it grew rapidly darker, until it was full night by the time they reached the park.

  Dean paid the ten dollars for their car, and they joined the line of vehicles slowly inching their way through the park, admiring the glowing displays of lights.

  “You’re not really driving now,” Marissa commented. They passed underneath an arch supporting the various poses of a red-nosed reindeer that blinked on and off in sequence so that he appeared to leap across the road. “And your SUV has tinted windows. No one can see what we’re doing in here.”

  He swallowed audibly. “What do you have in mind?”

  “You got me a Christmas present, but I didn’t get anything for you. If you unzip your pants…”

  The SUV lurched to one side, and Dean quickly corrected it. “You want to—”

  She reached over and cupped his cock, already hard and straining against his chinos. His hips bucked, thrusting his cock into her hand, and his words dissolved into a groan.

  “Do it. I’ve got to keep my hands on the wheel, so you’ll have to free me.”

  She fumbled with his belt and the button, the angle making it awkward. The rasp of the zip echoed through the SUV. He lifted his hips, and she pushed his chinos and boxers down to his thighs, freeing his cock. It surged upward, thickening as she watched.

  After a moment of considering the logistics, she knelt in the footwell on her side of the center console, then leaned across to put her face in his lap. She inhaled deeply, smelling his arousal, feeling the heat of his blood pulsing through his cock against her cheek. She turned her head and blew lightly across his skin.

  His stomach clenched, cock quivering. “Marissa…”

  She reached over and clasped the base of his cock in her fist, the short brown curls of his pubic hair teasing her skin. Opening her mouth, she guided the tip of his cock inside. She closed her lips around the shaft, her teeth resting lightly beneath the head.

  His hips bucked, pushing his cock deeper, bumping the roof of her mouth.

  She squeezed her fist, not hard enough to hurt him, just enough to remind him that she was the one doing this, not him. He settled back in his seat with a sigh.


  “Okay. Take me as fast or slow as you want. But remember, the drive through the park only takes twenty minutes, and we’ve already wasted five.”

  And there was a guard at the end, to direct cars to the craft fair, snack shop or park exit. A guard who would look through their window, and see exactly what was going on.

  She nodded, eliciting a rough groan from him as her mouth rode up and down his cock. Then she turned her attention fully to pleasuring him.

  Squeezing and releasing the base of his cock, she swirled her tongue around the head, and slid her lips up and down the shaft. Dean’s breathing shifted, growing loud and ragged.

  She stroked her tongue across the tip of his cock, teasing his slit. He gasped, his hips rising out of his seat then falling back.

  She worked her mouth down his cock, shifting her hand to cup and fondle his balls as she swallowed the base of his shaft. His head was all the way to the back of her throat, but she was breathing deeply through her nose, relaxed and enjoying his labored groans and whispered entreaties.

  “Oh, God, yes. Please, Marissa.”

  She sucked, hard, drawing him even deeper, crushing her lips into the nest of his pubic hair. He cried out, a strangled cross between a whimper and a bellow. One of his hands released the steering wheel to cup the back of her head, pressing her face into his crotch.

  Then she began to ride him, sliding her mouth slowly up his length until his head caught on the backs of her teeth, then plunging down to swallow him completely.

  Dean panted in time with her efforts, exhaling loudly with each downstroke. His fingers tightened on her scalp, adding more force to each thrust.

  “Marissa, I can’t… If you don’t want to swallow, get off now.”

  In reply, she squeezed his balls, and stroked his length with her tongue as she descended. His cock quivered, straining as she rose to the tip. She tasted pretzels in cream cheese dip, and realized the first drops of cum were hitting her tongue.