Chapter 9

nine

DENNIS

“Let me start by saying my favor wasn’t supposed to be this big.”

“Oh boy,” Sydney says as she pours a hot chocolate. She's adding just a touch of steamed milk, trying to layer some sort of design in, but it's not working, so she just grabs a can of whipped cream to cover it up and hands a mug, with possibly the largest breasts on a mug ever, to a little old lady who just grins at the absurdity. When the woman catches me looking, she waggles her brows at me before wandering off to her table.

“So, the guy that usually plays Santa forgot he has to drive Mrs. Claus to the doctor today, so they need someone to step in.”

Sydney places her hands on the counter to look at me. She’s breathtaking as she stares me down, like some anti-Christmas avenger. “So, you have to cancel on me today so you can find a replacement.” Her tone tells me she doesn't believe her own bullshit.

“I am the replacement,” I tell her.

“So, you're canceling on me?” Her voice is a mixture of disappointment and excitement. Clearly, she doesn't want to go to the festival with me. If I were a less secure man, I would worry that she doesn’t want to be with me, but I've spent almost every night at her place just so I can wake up with her by my side.

Morning Sydney might be my favorite. She snoozes until her alarm won't let her anymore, and the only thing to rouse her is coffee or my mouth between her legs, coaxing her awake. I'll start by trailing kisses along the soft curve of her belly. Every time, her first reaction is to push my head lower to right where she wants me.

I lick and suck at her, reveling in her taste until I can feel her body start to shake. Sydney’s hips will start to rock faster, and I'll know that's when she needs me. I'll climb my way back up her body until I sink into her greedy pussy and she comes around me with a soft cry.

Really, I'm the greedy one. The more I have it, the more I need it, the more I need her. I want more mornings like that spent wrapped around each other.

As she recovers and cleans up, I'll go get the coffee started so when she comes out of her shower, she's got a hot cup of liquid motivation waiting.

I've learned that for a barista, she's not picky about her coffee. She’ll drink K-Cups or a fancy French press or even just the crap we have at the station house. All she cares about is the caffeine content.

Sydney turns away from me to handle the next order but keeps glancing at me to see what I have to say. I’ll admit, thinking about her distracted me from the bad news I have to share.

“No, I’m not canceling on you. I need your help. Usually, they do it together. I need an elf or a Mrs. Claus. I’m not picky.”

“No.”

“No?” I can’t pretend I’m surprised that she rejected the idea, but part of me had hoped she would give in, that I could get her to agree to do this thing. I know she hates Christmas, and I don’t want to change her, but there is a part of me that foolishly hopes I could get her to change her mind just a little. I’m not expecting her to fall in love with the holiday, but I’ll take tolerating the lights.

“No. You’re not going to get me to get dressed up for a stupid holiday fair.”

She has a stubborn set to her shoulders, and I know there will be no talking my way into her agreeing. The more she fights me on Christmas, the more she draws me to her. I want to get into her head and find out how Christmas hurt her, why she’s so set against it. I want to soothe that hurt. “If you’re sure, then, of course. But I will not be giving up my favor. I’m still getting you to the festival, even if it isn’t tonight.”

Sydney pauses whatever she’s doing to look at me. I wish I could read her mind because she’s got a contemplative look on her face. Granted, I didn’t expect her to want to throw away her friday night at the Christmas Festival, even if I love it. I figured I would get her to walk around, maybe buy her a frozen eggnog pop, and maybe warm her up to it. I can see her frosty interior trying to be maintained, but she can’t do it.

She lets out a deep, dramatic sigh, tossing her towel on the counter. “What would I need to wear if I was going to be Mrs. Claus? I imagine jeans won’t cut it.” Her eyes roll as she says the last part, and I can’t help but grin.

For a second, my vision goes blank because all I can see is Sydney in a sexy Mrs. Claus outfit, and fuck. My erection presses against my jeans and I have to shift uncomfortably. I have to remind myself that it’s not acceptable for me to lift her onto the counter so I can sink into her in front of everyone.

“Will you trust me if I say I’ll take care of it?”

“Of course. ”

The words flow so easily from her mouth that I’m taken aback. Carmen would never have been okay with me picking out clothes for her. Hell, she never let me pick out my own clothes. Now I’m doubting myself, even if Sydney has all this faith in me.

“Then I’ll take care of it. Trust me.”

She rolls her eyes. “Trusting you is what got me into this mess.”

“I won’t let you regret it.”

I let her get back to work, not even stealing a kiss before I leave since I can see the line of tourists out the door.

I have the day off, which means I need to track down something for Sydney to wear tonight for our date. It might require a drive out to the city, but I’ll make it worth her while.

The hours for Santa are short tonight to encourage kids to get to bed early so mom and dad can enjoy the festival on their own. From four to eight, I’ll be dressed up and welcoming children to sit on my lap. I’ve done it before, so I know the gig. I know how to ease worries and tears. Local kids seem to have a sense that they can trust me. I’m not sure if it’s because some part of them recognizes me or what.

I give Sydney instructions on where to meet me, and I take my time walking through the little Christmas Village that gets built every year. The stands are small, perfect for two people to work closely to hawk their wares. I can see where Noah is setting up his cookie booth and another vendor is preparing their knit scarves and blankets and caps. The smell of hot chocolate and gingerbread wafts through the air, teasing forth memories of walking through here as a kid.

All around me, the community is working together, and better yet, there are tourists pumping money into our little shops. Santa’s workshop is nestled on the edge of the grounds, so kids who might need less stimulation have a quiet place to sit.

The door is unlocked when I get there and I spot Ina Wolensky pacing around the room with her hands on the small of her back.

“Ina,” I say, slowly approaching her.

“Oh, Dennis, you scared the shit out of me.” She moves one of her hands to her chest. Her hijab is hastily wrapped around her head, and I can see a thin sheen of sweat just above her brow.

“Do you need me to call your husband?”

She looks like she’s in labor. Her slight frame gives a shudder, and now I’m getting really concerned.

“No, I’m not in labor. I promise that’s not just me posturing, either.” During one of her other pregnancies, she insisted she wasn’t in labor only to give birth on the shore of the lake during one of our perfect summer days. Since then, she’s learned her lesson not to play it too close to the chest.

“Are you sure?” I ask but immediately wince at the cutting glare she gives me.

“This is my twentieth kid. I’m sure. I’m still not due yet. This little monster just decided to shift and kicked my spinal cord, probably herniated a disc. But I’m fine. I was just getting the room ready. Do you need an elf? I think I can make something work.”

I can’t stop my laugh, which earns me another glare. I clear my throat, “No, I don’t need any help. I’ve got my Mrs. Claus coming any minute now.” Sydney should be meeting me shortly. “I’m more concerned about you.”

Ina waves me off again. “My husband will be here shortly. Worry about all fourteen of my children climbing on you and telling you what they want for Christmas.”

“If you’re sure. Why don’t you sit and relax till Stan gets here?”

She opens her mouth to object but Sydney flies into the room like her ass is on fire. “Sorry, I thought I was late. Am I not late?”

Sydney is wearing the same thing she was earlier, and there is a red flush to her cheeks from a mix of the cold and exertion, if her breathing is any indication. When she looks at me, a smile splits her face, and I wish on every wishing star there ever was that Ina wasn’t here so I could make Sydney sit on my face until she’s red from a different sort of exertion.

“You are not late, Miss Sydney Perkins.” Ina’s gaze travels from Sydney to me and down to the bag I’m holding, where red tights are sticking out, and then back between our faces. I can see the delighted suspicion bloom. If people are gossiping about Sydney and I, they’re doing a good job of keeping it from my ears. There’s a part of me that’s concerned it’s because they think Sydney had something to do with my break up. “I’ll just be going. I’ll see you out there, Santa and Mrs. Claus.”

Ina waddles her way out the door, closing it behind her, leaving Sydney and me alone.

“Hi,” she says a little shyly, and I can’t wait a minute more before crossing the room to kiss her. She goes soft and pliant, lifting on the tips of her toes to keep kissing me. These are the kisses I live for. No, who am I kidding? I live for all of her kisses, the sweet “nice to see yous” and the hot “Why aren’t you inside me yet” ones. This kiss is a happy medium. The flick of her tongue against mine tells me she missed me too, and the groan tells me she also wishes this could become more, but alas, children will be arriving soon, and we do need to get ready for them.

“I got you a few things in a few sizes because I know that women’s sizing for clothes tends to be bullshit.”

She’s still breathless when she pulls away. “Thank you for that. It was hard to tell you what sizes when you wouldn’t tell me what you were getting.”

I wait while Sydney sets her bag down on the couch. The dressing room is set up to be more like a living room with a couch so the couple that usually plays Santa and Mrs. Claus can sit and relax during their breaks.

Sydney opens the bags and the first thing she pulls out is the red negligee I stumbled on. I can feel my cheeks heating. “That is for tonight, or later, or never if you don’t like it.”

It’s all red lace with two bows that are tied over each breast. There are complicated straps across the middle of the body but the bottom is crotchless, intended for easy access. It means I can get to her with my dick, my fingers, or my tongue, and she’ll be powerless against me.

“I like it, and I’m sure the dads of Evergreen Lake would also love it.” She holds it up to her body to show it off and a spike of possessive jealousy shoots through me. I cross to her in two easy steps to pull it from her hands.

“This is for me to see you in, and me alone. From now on, no one gets to see what’s under your clothes. Just me.”

Her gaze turns molten as she stares me down. I can practically see the internal war she’s fighting with herself. Does she object to me telling her what to do or will she let herself be turned on by my words? She liked it before when I talked dirty to her, and I think she likes it now, even if this is only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to the things I want to say to her, to do to her in this outfit.

This outfit that I bought as a reminder of today. Today, when we have to finish getting ready to be the Clauses. I have to keep driving that narrative forward, otherwise I’ll have to be arrested for all the things I want to do to her in this semi-public place.

“Later, I’ll get you in this and on your back. Here are your other options.”

Sydney seems to remember herself, and she takes a step back, putting the bag between us as a shield, so I give her the space. Her hands are sure as she pulls out the different garments. One is a more conservative look. It’s got a skirt that comes down to mid-thigh and a tight top with long sleeves. Along the neckline, hem, and cuffs of the sleeves is faux white fur. The dress is meant to look like Santa’s outfit, and I think I catch a hint of a smile on Sydney’s face as she holds it up against her body, pinching the sides at the waist. She sets the garment aside before pulling out the next dress.

So, maybe I got upsold into this one by the girl at the store when I told her I needed something for my girlfriend. She showed me this first before I remembered that Sydney would be standing outside for several hours while wearing it. When Sydney holds this one up, I can feel my blood rush to one part of me and one part of me only. My dick gets so hard I can barely think straight.

I mean, I think I’m actually a little lightheaded as I can see just how low-cut this top is. It makes the first dress look like a mumu. While this dress is going for the same Santa look as the first, this one is just wow. It barely hits mid-thigh on her and is almost certainly a no for tonight.

“Wow, you really said sexpot or matron tonight didn’t you?” she says with a laugh. There is no hesitation as she strips her top off to slide the first dress on.

“I really said that I was limited on time and options.” I cross my arms and watch as she adjusts the fabric around her. It’s not like I bought her couture. The dress has a stretch to it and it easily fits over her frame.

Maybe she’ll let me get on my knees before her and eat her out before anyone shows up. It feels simultaneously wrong and right to defile her in Santa’s workshop.

She twists to reach under her arm to pull off the tag. “How much do I owe you for the outfit?”

“Nothing. I’m dragging you into this. The least I can do is make sure that you have everything you need.”

“I’m guessing wearing my jeans would be bad?”

“Not bad, but, ideally, you won’t. I bought you fleece-lined leggings or tights.”

While Sydney finishes getting ready, I hunt down the Santa outfit that’s hanging up. Every year, the Christmas committee makes sure to have the suit pressed and ready, even though the man who usually dresses as Santa has his own get-up. This is meant to be the backup. There’s been more than one occasion when Santa has been pooped on, thrown up on, or peed on. And at least one occasion where it was all at the same time.

When I emerge from the back changing room where the suit is kept, Sydney is bent over the small vanity, curling her hair. She looks, in a word, spectacular with her ass in the air while she hums to herself. I listen closely to what it is, and yep, my girl is humming a Christmas tune. My little Grinch’s heart might be growing as I stand here without her even realizing it.

I can’t help but think about how much I’m falling for this girl. I was so emotionally divorced from Carmen for so long that I forgot what it felt like to have these overwhelming feelings of joy, of connection. It makes me sad that I went without them for so long, that I let myself settle for feeling worthless. It makes me all the more worried I’ll scare Sydney off.

I thread my thumbs through the suspenders and enjoy watching her get ready. She’s alternating a curl between touching up her make up. For someone who was hesitant to even say yes, she’s going all-in. Her gaze meets mine in the mirror, and she straightens up and turns to me.

“Like what you see?”

Crossing the room to her, I can’t help but put my hands on her hips before bringing them up to her waist. I need to be touching her at all times.

“I love what I see all the time.” I expect a tense moment for saying love, but she just preens at the compliment.

“I figured if you were going to make me be the original good girl, I would play into it.”

“Can confirm you are the best girl.”

I’m about to kiss her but she covers my mouth with her hand. “In about five minutes we can do all the kissing you want, but until my lipstick dries, you probably don’t want to kiss me.” I hate the first thought that comes into my mind, that Carmen would use this as an excuse to not kiss me. I have to battle the instinct to flinch because Sydney is not Carmen and she’s not just looking for an excuse to get away from me.

“That’s where you are wrong, Sydney. I always want to kiss you, even if it means having your lipstick smeared all over my face.”

“That is all fine and well, but this is an everlast kind of lipstick, so you get it smeared on your face and you’re going to have a lot of explaining to do to the tiny humans because you will have it stuck on your face until you can get industrial paint thinner to take it off.”

“And you put this on yourself…why?”

“Because beauty.”

While she finishes up, I start wrapping the padding around my body. It’s a struggle, and while I’m twisting around trying to grab the other end, I feel a small hand on my shoulder .

“Let me help.” Sydney stays behind me and helps me maneuver the fluffy belly so it’s actually around my middle instead of having to twist it around. There’s something so domestic in her helping me get ready that I could see her helping me into a suit before a friend’s wedding or into my uniform for work.

I want the little moments with her the same way I want to wake her up in the morning with soft touches.

“Coat,” she says, and I push my arms back so she can help me into it.

I can’t fuck her in Santa’s workshop. I can’t do that, right? At least not before.

Sydney swings around in front of me and starts to button the large black buttons. Having her dress me is backward and I want to tell her so, but I’m too afraid of breaking the spell. For a girl who hates Christmas, she’s positively glowing with Christmas spirit.

She steps back, tilting her head adorably with her hand on her chin, looking at me thoughtfully.

“I think you’re missing something.”

“Is it a kiss?” I tease, leaning toward her. This time she lets our lips meet, and she was worth the wait. She’ll always be worth the wait.

“That’s exactly what it was, and see?” She runs her thumb over my bottom lip slowly, and I want to take her thumb into my mouth and suck on it. When she pulls her thumb from my mouth she shows me that it’s free of her red lipstick.

“I wouldn’t have minded in the least.”

“I wasn’t worried about you. I was worried more about the families of Evergreen Lake shunning me for defiling Santa.”

“If you keep talking about leaving your lipstick on my body, I’m going to defile you, and you’re going to need to meet the children of Evergreen Lake with cum sliding down your thighs. ”

She visibly reacts to my words. It starts with a flush spreading across her cheeks and moves to the tight buds of her nipples and then the shifting on her feet. She must be seeking friction between those thighs. I bet she’s getting wet too.

A knock on the door interrupts the moment we’re having, and I’m just a little thankful for it. Sydney leaps away from me like we were doing exactly what we were talking about, and I breathe a sigh of relief that it’s just one of the other helpers checking to see if we’re ready. With one final perusal of our outfits, I don the hat that makes me Santa along with my beard.

Sydney pulls my belt tight and slides it through the loop. For someone who doesn’t like Christmas, she looks smitten right now. Before going outside, I grab the Mrs. Claus coat and help her into it. It’s a little big on her, but that doesn’t stop her from letting me button her into it and tying the belt tight around her middle.

I open the front door of Santa’s workshop and we are greeted by a gust of brisk December air and cheers from the children waiting for us.

“Ho ho ho!” I greet, placing my hand on the small of Sydney’s back. “Santa is here today with Mrs. Claus, so be extra good. I may keep the list, but it’s Mrs. Claus who tells me who deserves to stay on the naughty and nice list.”

Sydney turns her head to look at me with an eyebrow raised, but she doesn’t stop smiling in front of the kids.

Throughout the few hours, it’s hard to stay focused on what each of the kids asks for for the holidays when I’m too busy watching how she interacts with them.

They keep her busy while they wait, and not once does she talk down to them. She gets and stays on their level, squatting most of the time, only getting up to stretch between kids. It makes the time fly, knowing that she’s right by my side.

I’m trying to subtly stretch my back when she walks over, the next child’s hand in hers.

“Santa, dear, Maude here is very nervous to be meeting you today,” she tells me sweetly as they approach.

“Is that so?” I ask her, then turn my attention to Maude. The little girl hides behind Sydney’s coat and skirts, only to peer back out at me. It’s not uncommon. There is something about having my face obscured that tends to set kids on edge. Some parents relish the screaming baby photos. Occasionally, it’s funny, depending on how long I’ve been sitting in the chair, but mostly I feel guilty for scaring the littles.

“That is so. She has asked if I would sit on your lap while she holds my hand. She promised to take a photo, but only if I was in it too.” Sydney has a teasing lilt to her voice.

“The missus knows she’s always welcome to help however is needed.” I wink at her as she crosses to sit on my lap. Maude takes a tentative step closer. “Now, Miss Maude, will you tell me what it is you would like for the holidays?” I may be Santa, but I’ve had a few children who don’t celebrate Christmas come up, and I want them to feel included too.

“I want a life-sized Beebop.” She nearly shouts it, projecting at mom and dad, who are standing behind the photographer. Both of them vehemently shake their heads at me.

“I’ll have to check my workshop, but I believe we only have the normal-sized ones.”

Maude is referring to the nightmare toy that’s just a relaunch of a toy we had when I was a kid. It was the beginning of AI. It would talk to you even after you turned it off. The thing was nightmare fodder and they went and made it smarter and gave it arms.

“Well, I already have seven of those,” she says thoughtfully. She is still holding onto Sydney’s hand, and I feel a little tremble in Sydney’s body, no doubt because the thought of seven of those monsters means an uprising. She does a good job of not letting that tremble move down her arm toward Maude. I place my hand on her back and she turns her head toward me with a small smile.

It hurts my heart just how much I want this with her, that I want to make it work. I have no idea what that’s going to look like, but I want to do what it takes.

Maude eventually loosens up enough to sit on my other thigh for the photo, and Sydney slips away when Maude starts to talk all about her Beebop collection. The evening progresses much like this, Sydney will reassure the child, and they happily climb onto my lap to tell me what it is they want.

I can’t help but imagine a future where Sydney is holding our child’s hand. In some circles, that might make me a sap, but I think it just makes me a man falling in love with the most unexpected woman. I forgot what it felt like to dream of the future. For the longest time, it was something I wanted, but was always held so far out of reach that I never dared to imagine what would happen when it came to fruition.

I can see what my future will look like again with Sydney, and that future is limitless.

When the shift ends, we head back into Santa’s workshop to get changed into our normal clothes. I’m lucky tonight was relatively easy with no messes to clean up with the children. I’m hoping that’s because we had an earlier in the day crowd so kids weren’t hopped up on enough sweets yet.

I expect that Sydney might be grumbling and want to go home after this, but instead when she meets my gaze, her eyes are bright with joy and her cheeks are red from the cold.

With my hat and beard off, I’m sweating bullets, but taking Sydney’s hands in mine, I realize I’m the only one hot. It makes sense. I’ve been bundled up with layers on layers and gloves on, while Sydney had to fend with just a coat.

I take her hands in mine and blow on them gently. “Thank you for this.”

Fire sparks in her eyes, and she rips her hands out of mine. “Take this off,” she orders, her hands going to the big black belt around me.

I worry that maybe I’ve misread the situation, but her lips on mine leave no room for confusion. Her kiss is hungry as she devours my mouth and I give in to her. I try to pull her against me, but the Santa suit is getting in the way, and she pulls back. I can feel my cock starting to harden, and it makes me desperate to comply.

“Suit off. Now.”

She turns away from me and goes back to the vanity. I like bossy Sydney. I like submissive Sydney. I like everything about Sydney, so I do exactly what I’m told and take the clothes off like they’re on fire. I’m down to just my boxers when she turns to face me, her red lips glistening with a fresh coat of lipstick.

Sydney tosses her own coat to the side before lifting the hem of her dress. She’s not wearing the sexy lingerie I bought, but she’s got on a lacy red bra that barely covers the dusky pink of her nipples. I hook an arm around her waist and pull her into me. With my other hand, I push up her breast so I can cover it with my mouth. I run my tongue over the wet lace, and she lets out a low moan, until I use my teeth to tug at the stiff point.

She pushes away from me and drops to her knees so quickly that it’s a blink-and-you-miss-it moment.

“Fuck, sugar, do you see what you do to me?” I know she can; she’s eye level with my erection. She drags one painted nail along the edge of it, tracing me from root to tip and back up again.

“Looks like you need someone to take care of this for you.”

“Do you think you’ve been enough of a good girl to do it?”

She flicks her eyes up to gaze at me through her lashes. “Have I been a good girl? No. I’ve been the best girl.”

She tugs my boxers down, just enough that my cock springs free, and this fucking vixen has the nerve to let her tongue dart out to lick her lips while she looks at it.

“Only the best girls get to suck my cock.” I push her bangs out of her face before gripping her hair tightly. With my other hand I give myself one rough stroke and then squeeze at the base. “Are you ready to choke on my dick?”

“Yes, please,” she whispers. She sticks her tongue out and licks along the underside before closing her lips around me, creating a hot, slick vacuum I can thrust into.

“Tap my thigh if you need to,” I tell her before I pull my hips back and snap them forward. She grunts, and I can feel her gag just a little, so I slowly pull back. Her grey eyes peer up at me and there is a challenge in them. If she doesn’t want me to stop, I won’t.

There’s something intoxicating about seeing the smear of her lipstick on my cock and her face. The visual touches on something deep and primal in me that has me holding back from using the woman I’m falling in love with for my pleasure.

Through the tears and the gagging, not once does she tap my thigh. “That’s my girl,” I croon as I make a mess of her. I can feel my orgasm winding tighter. The picture of her on her knees before me with tears mixing with drool shouldn’t be as much of a turn on for me, but I can’t stop, as I know I’m about to go off like a rocket.

I pull back from her. “Stick your tongue out,” I demand as I start to stroke myself fast and furious. Hot cum spurts from the flared head of my cock, landing on her tongue, on her cheeks and her chest. I want to take her home and fuck her into the mattress then make her hot chocolate and cuddle her close.

Her tongue stays out with the pool of cum gathering before she pulls it into her mouth and makes a dramatic show of swallowing.

I drop to my knees before her and press my lips to hers. She’s covered in my cum, and it’s one of the filthiest pictures I’ve ever seen, but it doesn’t stop the need to get her on her back and thrust into her until she’s crying out my name.

“As much as I want to make love to you right now, I'm afraid your screams will scare the town.”

She gives me a teasing smirk back. She's not too much of a screamer, but I know I'll only take the challenge for what it is to see if I could get her to take the house down.

“Fine. Does this mean we’re done for the day? Will we head home and then you can really make me scream?” Her tone is half-hearted, like she doesn’t expect me to actually say yes to her.

She’s right; I’m not. “Nope. I’m sorry to say you can’t seduce me with a blow job to get out of the festival. It’s time to get you a frozen eggnog stick, a hot chocolate, and some cookies from Noah.”

She pouts at me. “You really know how to get a girl to say yes.”

I climb to my feet, helping her up. I’m thankful the bathroom in this room has a shower with towels in it. Too many kids hopped up on sweets have thrown up on Santa for us not to be prepared. I grab a paper towel and a cloth one so I can clean Sydney up. When she reaches for the towels, I pull them away from her.

“No, I made a mess of you. I’m going to clean you up. ”

“How can you make me feel so treasured and so dirty all in a five-minute span?” she asks quietly, her head bowed as she watches my ministrations.

I kiss her cheek. “Because you make it easy to want to mark you as mine and take care of you all at once. Because humans are multifaceted, and being able to care for you appeals to me.”

She stretches to the tips of her toes to kiss me, and I welcome the affection. It’s brief, barely a brush of her lips, but it makes my hunger for her grow. There is so much more of my life I want to share with her, and I want to show her everything.