while I try to regain my equilibrium. When he slides the fingers he just had inside of me into his mouth I nearly die from the eroticism of it. And the humiliation.
Did I really just let my boss finger-fuck me in a church? On a business trip? Did he just lick my orgasm off of his fingers?
Yeah, that all just happened.
"Don't overthink it, Holly," Nick says as he buttons my pants, tugging the zipper into place. I bite my bottom lip between my teeth and stare at a seam on the shoulder of his jacket until he takes my chin between his thumb and forefinger and tilts my head back enough to position me for another kiss. But he doesn't kiss me. Not yet. He waits until I look at him, then he smiles. His green eyes sparkle in the dim lighting as a slow smile spreads over his face, his head tilted over mine again in that slow torturous hover, his lips just inches away. He touches his forehead to mine, brushing a strand of hair over my shoulder while pulling me closer until our bodies are pressed together from hip to chest.
Then he kisses me.
Chapter 9
We leave the church before I can undo Nick's pants.
I would have. I'd have undone my boss’s pants in a church if he'd let me, which makes it official. I'm absolutely, positively on Santa's naughty list this year.
The moment we step out of the church Nick takes my hand and tugs me into the crowd, not letting go until we're in the back of a cab. Once there I act like a weirdo, sliding too far over to allow for cuddling and staring at my fingers in my lap. Gloves. I had gloves at one point this evening, didn't I? I've got no idea where they are now though. Gone along with my sanity.
When I rub my hands together in nervous anticipation Nick pulls my gloves from his pocket and hands them to me. How the hell he got them, I've no idea. They're a pale wintery blue, matching my scarf. I tug them onto my hands and resume twiddling my fingers like this is the first time I've been in the backseat with a member of the opposite sex.
It sort of is, come to think of it. I haven't been in a backseat since high school, and that definitely wasn't a cab.
Listen, I know Nick just made me come all of fifteen minutes ago, but if he doesn't want to continue this back at the hotel I will… well, I have no idea what I'll do. No amount of masturbation could ever replace the feeling of Nick's hands on my body.
What am I even thinking? This is insanity! All of it. When we get back to the hotel I'll say thank you for a lovely evening and go back to my room and Nick will go back to his room and we'll pretend this never happened. I must have been high on the scent of roasting chestnuts and Nick. That's the only thing that makes sense.
I start tapping my fingers onto my thighs, faster than a drummer in an aggressive rock band. A drummer wearing pale blue knit gloves that result in a nearly silent beat. I feel Nick staring at me so I turn my head. He's turned toward me, his arm resting along the headrest behind us, a knowing smile on his face.
Because he knows the sounds I make when I come and how I taste. He knows exactly how wet I get and how I feel squeezing his fingers when I come. I turn red. I'm sure of it. I can feel heat flush my face. Perhaps I have the flu. I stare straight ahead and try to estimate how far we are from the hotel. I swear the ride to the market was faster than this return trip.
"Tell me what you're thinking about, Holly."
"Nothing."
"We both know that's untrue."
"I was just thinking about a… spreadsheet." Sure, that's normal.
"A spreadsheet," Nick deadpans in reply.
"Hmm-hmm," I murmur, darting a look at him from the side of my eye. He picks up a strand of my hair and slides it between his fingers. I can barely feel it, only the slightest tug at the root, but it doesn't matter. He might as well be running his fingers over my naked skin, I'm so aware of the slightest brush or stroke when it comes from Nick.
"I must have done a very poor job