Page 15 of Christmas Cheer

“Maybe you don’t need to go to Germany.”

“It’s the opportunity of a lifetime.”

I stare hard at the TV screen in front of us even though I have no idea what’s going on or if it’s even the same movie. I should support her. I get that she doesn’t have the safety net I do. Even if I’m not drafted, I can work for my parents while I play for the practice squad on the new expansion time Wilmington is getting until I get signed. It’s not an unusual path to get into the NFL. She doesn’t have anything like that.

But I can’t support her going to Germany and not just because of her safety. I want her here, with me, and I hate that I might be too late. I could have found something for her here. Or just married her so she wouldn’t have to worry about it.

“You okay there?” Keira asks, and I realize I may be holding her too tightly.

I loosen my hold slightly, enough that it’ll seem like I’m acknowledging this without really letting her go. “What would happen if you didn’t go? Like, if you decided after the New Year that Germany wasn’t the right place for you?”

“Well, I’d lose the job, of course. And since my major is Exercise Science, I have to do an internship to finish out my degree, which I wouldn’t be able to do since mine is already lined up in Berlin.And, since I’m here on scholarship, which is only good as long as I’m a cheerleader and only good for eight semesters, seven of which I’ve already done, I’d have to come back for a single semester next year, but they’d require me to cheer again, which would be almost impossible to pull off with an internship because of the cheer schedule. So I’d probably never graduate.”

Oof. “Well, that’s not good.”

“Nope, it’s not. Do you need me to make you feel better?”

My brain flips that around. I’m about to ask how I can make her feel better, but her hand shifts from my hip to my pelvis, tucking into my pants to drift down to my cock, who’s been steadfastly half-mast since lunch. Waiting, biding its time.

Its time is now.

She doesn’t wait for me to get my pants off, instead dropping the waistband just enough she can guide my cock up over the fabric. She’s weirdly, sweetly gentle about it, as cautious as I was with it after I drunkenly walked into a tattoo parlor and demanded they pierce my dick. Two of the piercers refused based on the tequila sweating out of me; the third had a thing against football players and agreed to it only if they got to pick how it was pierced.

I didn’t know about the grudge, of course, and when they explained that it would be a little hoop that went through the corona, that sounded great. Sounded exactly like that lip ring Keira’s ex had.

Turns out the dydoe is one of the most difficult piercings since there’s really not a whole lot of accessible flesh there and also one of the most likely to fail. Bled like a sieve, and I had to ice my dick for days. The first time I fucked with it in, I double-bagged my dick and still gritted my teeth through it.

Keira eases my cock out with that same caution and even takes the time to lift my nuts and settle them over my cotton pajama pants. The way her finger traces over the seam has electrical shocks running up my spine, but when I try to guide her lips to mine, she holds herself back.

“Here,” I grunt. “Now.”

“Nope.”

She instead takes hold of my shaft and strokes it with a firm grip, slowly coaxing it until it’s thickened and rock solid against her palm. Only then does she resituate herself on the sofa, settling herself on her knees next to me and lowering her head down.

She licks my piercing.

She actually fucking licks it.

“I’m gonna die,” I groan.

“Oh, do you not like this?”

Just as I start to say, “Happy,” shetugsit with her tongue, so the word is more of a pathetic squeak than anything before I gasp out, “I’m gonna die happy.”

“Just wait to die until after Miami,” she says with a chuckle. “I don’t want to be blamed if we lose the game.”

She wraps her lips around my tip and sucks me into her mouth, and if anything, we’ll be losing the game because I refuse to do anything that doesn’t involve some part of one of our bodies being inside the other one’s body. And because I’m a giver, I gleefully pull her pants down so I can smack her ass and then finger her pussy until she comes while still sucking my cock.

Honestly, it’s the perfect Christmas.

Chapter 8

Keira

Evan insists oncooking dinner even after I pull up a list of restaurants open on Christmas Day and advocate for my favorite local Chinese takeaway, which I’ve enjoyed twice on Christmas and was genuinely looking forward to. I argue that it’s tradition, and Evan insists we make new traditions.

He says it with a glimmer of intent in his eye that keeps me from pointing out that it’s not a tradition if we only do it once.

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