Micah
Worth the sixteen year wait.
It was close to 11 p.m. by the time pulled up in front of Fletcher’s house. After Emery had done her necessary shopping and they’d indulged in hot cocoa, had dropped her daughter off with Sadie’s nonna. The plan was always for Emery to spend the night there, but now was even more anxious to drop her off so she could see Fletcher again. It didn’t help that Emery was still humming that silly Christmas song, enough that Nonna had a million questions the whole time was attempting to leave.
Also, who knew she had a Santa kink?
held Mrs. Hershey responsible.
She’d had a relatively light day at work, which she was grateful for after her stuttering days ago. However, she did have a session with Mrs. Hershey. After one week of reading picture books and helping her learn how to process certain words by the way they looked on the page, the older woman insisted they read her book club romance.
As luck would have it, the book that Mrs. Hershey’s book club was reading featured a hero moonlighting as Santa and a heroine with a Santa kink. If you asked , she would have told you that she’d never considered Santa to be a kink. But after spending an hour reading all of the deliciously sexy things the heroine did with Santa, she thought differently.
“Did you ever think that Santa could be so hot?” Mrs. Hershey asked, fanning herself with one hand while wiggling her eyebrows.
“He’s not really Santa, is he? Just playing dress up.”
“Oh sweetheart, where’s your imagination? When he puts on the suit, he is Santa.”
She rolled her eyes and tried to flip to a chapter or scene without sex, but Mrs. Hershey wasn’t having it. “Reading sex is the easiest way to get me interested, stop skipping.”
“You know you’re gonna have to know what the rest of the story is about, right?”
Mrs. Hershey made a psshhaa sound and waved her off, wrinkled fingers turning the pages and tracing the words until she found what she was looking for. “Does that say pussy or pretty?”
“What do you think it says?” asked, peering at the page before looking at the older woman.
“It could say pretty pussy for all I care.”
“This is not helping with your reading, I hope you’re aware.”
“I’m living vicariously through Janet and her Santa fetish, nothing else matters.”
She chuckled and finally took Mrs. Hershey through the scene—the word was indeed pussy and it brought the older woman much joy. But also because she got giddy over the sex scenes, they read two more that got all hot and bothered before she walked Mrs. Hershey out to the cab waiting outside the clinic.
Then hours later, she’d seen Fletcher in his Santa suit and her mind was filled with all the naughty things she’d like to do with him. If Emery wasn’t with her, might have said and done a lot more than kiss him under the mistletoe. For a brief moment, she was disappointed that he’d kept this from her. Sure, she wasn’t a fan of the holidays and thought it, like all other holidays, was a capitalist mess. But she wouldn’t have held it against Fletcher if he told her he liked Christmas or that he was Santa every year.
What if Emery had been ready to return to Santa’s Village years ago? Would she have run into Fletcher then? Would they have what they did now? wasn’t a big believer in fate or destiny, but she know that they were meant to reconnect now. Now when both of them weren’t expecting each other. When they felt like they were ready for something more.
However, had to admit seeing Fletcher in that Santa coat had done something to her. It wasn’t even the traditional outfit or something sexy, he’d managed to find a long coat that fit him like a glove. The combination of his regular clothes—dark jeans and a matching shirt—under the bright red coat with his Santa hat had been a visual she never thought she’d want to add to her spank bank. He looked so handsome, like he was meant to play that role. And the way he interacted with those kids, squatting to their level to talk and laugh with them, told her that he loved every minute of it.
The drive to his house took her about twenty minutes and the whole way, she wondered if he would still be wearing his Santa outfit. If he’d fuck her in it, because they were going to have sex. If he’d let her wear it while he did all those wonderful things to her body he once did. Or maybe he’d let her strip him naked and lick him from head to toe. Okay, calm the fuck down .
By the time she pulled into his driveway she was completely horned up and breathing heavily. The front door to his house opened and the man himself stepped through, leaning against the doorway. ’s chest heaved at the sight of him—long legs encased in black, full sleeved Henley that clung to his torso and strong arms crossed over his chest. He’d taken off his Santa coat, though, and she pouted for that. She loved him with every fibre of her being and she didn’t even want to think about life without him now.
When Fletcher’s head cocked to the side, she chuckled and got out of her car, smoothing down her dress. She grabbed her purse and locked up before walking up the driveway to his front door.
“Thought you were going to make a break for it.”
“And miss out on kissing Santa again? Not a chance in hell.”
He rolled his eyes, hooked his fingers into her belt and pulled her against him. Their lips crashed together and she moved as he did, stepping into the house, the slight chill vanishing the minute she heard the door close. She dropped her bag and set her hands on his chest, pushing him against the door as one of his hands cradled the back of her head and the other slid down to her ass, bringing their hips flush.
The kiss broke and Fletcher pressed soft kisses against her jaw, down her neck and she arched into him. Her fingers slid into his hair, holding him in place as he marked up her skin, his beard scraping against her.
“Fletch…” she whispered, rocking against him as he sucked on the sensitive spot behind her ear. moaned, back arching as she tugged on his hair. But before she could say anything, a loud rumble echoed between them.
“Was that you?” he asked as he pulled back with wide eyes.
She nodded as her stomach released another obnoxious sound. “I haven’t eaten anything since lunch.”
“Jesus, Mick. That’s hours ago.”
“So feed me,” she simpered and mentally patted herself on the back when he growled. Except, he released the grip he had on her ass and tugged her to the kitchen. In a move she didn’t expect, he picked her up and set her on the counter before turning to his fridge to pull out multiple dishes. rested her hands on the counter and swung her legs as she watched him plate the leftovers and stick it in his microwave.
When he turned to her, he frowned. “What?”
“I love you,” she said simply, legs swinging and Fletcher went still.
“Mick…”
“I fucking love you, Fletch. I was a twenty-something in love with you that night. Now I’m a thirty-something who is still so stupidly in love with you.”
He was frozen, eyes wide as his mouth flapped open and shut. She knew that she shocked him, so she laughed and hopped off the counter. When she stopped in front of him, Fletcher finally blinked and lifted both hands to cup her face.
“You love me.”
Wrapping her hands around his wrists, nodded with a grin. “So fucking much.”
“Crazy,” he mumbled and then his mouth was on hers again, kissing her slow and deep. His tongue swept into her mouth and they moaned in unison, teeth clattering as tried to get closer. She’d never told anybody she loved them, not romantically anyway. Definitely not Geoffrey. When he proposed, she took the ring and put it on. When they got married, she struggled to maintain eye contact. The day they got divorced, she finally felt free.
She’d been in love with Fletcher for years, the feelings simmering beneath the surface as she went through the motions. The day they saw each other again, everything truly made sense. The reason why she couldn’t give her heart to someone else and the calming sensation at staring into his eyes again.
The sound of the microwave beeping brought her back to the present and she broke the kiss with a gasp. He still looked shocked, almost like he couldn’t believe what was happening. She rolled her eyes and tapped his nose before moving around him to retrieve her food—a very colorful and vibrant burrito bowl. Snagging a spoon on the way, she bumped her hip against his and tucked herself into his breakfast nook and dug into the food.
She was a few bites into her food when Fletcher dropped to his knees beside her, eyes unfocused. “I love you too.”
“I know, Fletch.” She grinned and set her bowl down, brushing hair out of his face.
“I blanked after you spoke and that kiss, goddamn woman. I could kiss you forever and never get enough.”
She laughed and leaned in to peck his lips. “You can kiss me forever.”
“Yeah?”
Humming in the affirmative, she returned to her food because her stomach was starting up its loud rumbling again. He sat in the chair across from the cushioned bench she was seated on and she could see that he was still processing what had happened.
“You love me,” he repeated softly and then his face split into the most beautiful smile as he looked at her. “Worth the sixteen year wait.”
“You’re such a dork.”
“I believe this makes me your dork, love bug.”
She gently kicked him under the table. Fletcher finally leaned back in his chair and stretched his legs out. He looked so happy, so content and she was glad for it. They’d both had incredibly long days and yet, this quiet moment together was exactly what they needed. At the same time, because she needed the answer to one question, broke the silence.
“Why didn’t you tell me about your Santa gig?”
His shoulders tensed and she watched him fidget for a long moment before looking at her. “I love Christmas. Almost as much as you don’t like it, maybe. I was going to tell you, but when I showed up that morning and heard your frustration with the holiday…”
“You really thought it would be a deal breaker?” she asked, one eyebrow arched.
“People have pretty wild and valid reasons for not liking certain things in relationships. I made a lot of assumptions, obviously.”
She laughed at his wince. “You know what they say about assumptions. No wait…that doesn’t work as well.”
“I’m glad you find this hilarious,” he deadpanned.
“Here all week.” stuck her tongue out and ate the rest of her dinner. “But for the record, I would love you in all your versions. The rockstar was always my favorite, but the former rockstar does things to me. And Santa? Holy shit, Fletch.”
He shook his head, a light blush visible at the top of his beard. She scooped up the last of her food as she smiled to herself. Even at forty-seven, Fletcher Kelley could be a bashful awkward man and somehow that was so endearing.
When she finished, he was on his feet, taking her bowl and washing up. She watched him for a moment before she wandered through his kitchen, opening and closing cabinets and drawers. When she was there a few nights ago, she’d seen a box of fruit roll-ups and now she wanted to use them wisely . Retrieving it from the last drawer, shook the contents into her hand and walked over to wrap one arm around his waist, her face pressed into his back.
“Are you tired?” she asked.
“Why?”
playfully nipped at his back through his T-shirt and dragged her hand down to the front of his jeans to press her palm against his growing bulge. She’d felt it earlier when he’d kissed her and she already knew what he was packing. He grunted softly and rocked against her hand, making her smile.
“Turn around,” she whispered, pulling her hand away and dropping to her knees. He turned and frowned down at her, but pointed at his pants. “Take them off.”
Despite looking like he wanted to protest, he undid his belt and zipper, then pushed his pants off. She leaned forward to kiss his dick through the cotton of his boxer-briefs and heard Fletcher growl.
Looking up at him, she smiled and said, “Actually, take it all off.”
She loved that he didn’t object. That he reached behind his head and ripped off his T-shirt, tossing it aside before pushing his underwear down. And then he was standing gloriously naked—minus the clothes around his ankles—in front of her and sighed, a smile tugging at her lips. She wrapped a hand around the head of his cock and he hissed softly, so she dragged a hand down the full length of him, fingers twisting around his base. Another sound came out of him and she shifted on her knees, leaning forward to take the tip of him into her mouth. The bead of moisture slid onto her tongue as she licked him up. His eyes slipped shut and she opened up the fruit roll-up while taking him deeper into her mouth. His cock was heavy against her tongue and twitched as she sucked gently. Moaning when he hit the back of her throat, set one hand on his thigh and carefully pulled back, sliding him out of her mouth.
And then she wrapped the roll-up around him, smiling when he startled and opened his eyes. “What the hell?”
“I saw this video—” she smoothed the roll-up around his dick with a smirk “—and the woman insisted that it was the best blowjob of her life.”
“Huh. What is that, though?”
She giggled once she was done, leaving his tip exposed as she sat back to admire her handiwork. “A strawberry fruit roll-up.”
He nodded, not entirely convinced, but she knew he was intrigued. She slid him into her mouth and the combination of his natural taste and the strawberry made her eyes roll back. She felt his hand on her jaw, his thumb brushing along her bottom lip as she took him deeper. wrapped one hand around his base and stroked him as she sucked on his strawberry flavored cock. She forced her eyes open and found his head tipped back as her tongue worked him over. His grip on her face went slack as she took him deeper into her mouth, her eyes watering as she swallowed when his tip hit the back of her throat. A guttural sound came out of Fletcher and she silently congratulated herself on making that happen.
“Mick, fuck,” he groaned and she sucked him harder, the flavors coating her mouth. She slipped her hand between his thighs and cupped his balls, getting the loudest moan in response. His fingers gripped her short hair and tugged gently, but didn’t let up. She watched him as she sucked and squeezed him, hand and mouth working in tandem to drive him absolutely wild.
His body jolted and his fingers tightened in her hair, so popped him out of her mouth and Fletcher huffed. She removed the roll-up and licked him from tip to base, her eyes fixed on his face as he breathed heavily. And when he started to relax his hold in her hair, she took him back into her mouth and he gasped as he jerked forward and came, spilling down her throat. moaned, head spinning as she sucked him up. Pulling off him slowly, she leaned back against the cabinets behind her and licked her lips as he caught his breath.
When his eyes finally opened, dark with desire, she shivered. With his chest still heaving, he held out his hands for her and pulled to her feet. Both of them looked at his dick, covered in slightly pinkish red residue and she snorted out a laugh.
“It looks diseased.”
“Tasted good, though,” she countered and tossed the roll-up into the garbage. “Let’s get you all cleaned up.”
Fletcher opened his mouth to say something, but changed his mind. Instead, he pulled his underwear and pants up and led the way to his bedroom. drank in the muscles in his back, the tattoos dotting his skin and smiled to herself. She scored this rockstar and he wanted her just as bad.
When he stepped into the bathroom, took a minute to look around his bedroom. It was large, but decorated simply. Nobody would know that this was the bedroom of a former rockstar, because it was neat and tidy and not a single thing existed from his former life. The California King in the middle of the room took up most of the space and the sheets looked a little rumpled. There was a vintage desk against one wall, with a jacket hanging over the back of the chair. A laptop, a stack of notebooks and her envelope from his birthday rested on the table—it looked unopened.
A large built-in wardrobe took up the opposite wall, a full-size mirror on one of the panels. Beside it was a tall shelf that had more shoes than she owned. A few random pieces of art adorned the walls, adding color to the otherwise plain room. His curtains were a cream color that didn’t look like it served any purpose other than to cover the windows. But had to admit that the bed was positioned in such a way that it might not get any sunlight, irrespective of if the curtain was open or closed.
“Are you going to join me?” His voice floated from the bathroom and she made quick work of stripping off her clothes, tossing everything haphazardly on the floor. Looking at her naked body in the mirror on his closet, she grinned at herself and walked into the bathroom.