I don’t think I’ve ever peed in front of someone I’ve just fucked.
Whatever.
I do my business and wash my hands before telling him he can turn around again. He’s still smirking when he pivots, and I can only imagine what I look like standing in front of him with my stockings around one ankle, Santa hat askew, makeup looking like a panda.
“You should not have to see me like this after only one day,” I say, going to grab my loose stocking.
Nick sinks to the floor in front of me before I have a chance. He rolls my hose up and holds the foot open for me to slip into. He has them halfway up my calves before I realize I forgot to put my panties back on.
“Wait. We forgot my underwear,” I say.
“If you think that was an accident, you’re poorly mistaken,” he tells me.
There’s something about him on his knees in front of me, rolling my stockings up my dimpled thighs like he’s having to put away an open present on Christmas Eve that makes my breathing uneven. And when he tugs them to my hips where he’s left me naked beneath, he blows out a breath while staring at my cunt.
“So fucking pretty… What if I just…”
“Nick—“
He leans forward and presses his lips to my pussy before I can stop him. His tongue sticks out of his mouth, parting my labia so he can taste me better. One of my knees tries to give. I’d like to say I have the willpower to grab his hair and pull him away, butfuck.
“Nick, I have to go back,” I force myself to say, ignoring the fact that I’ve widened my legs.
He slides his tongue along my clit, and the already sensitive nerves make me jerk. “Nick?—”
He pulls back and kisses my pelvis. “Later,” he promises.
I’m stunned as he finishes rolling up my stockings—over my ass, my hips, and to my waist, making sure to tug and straighten them just right. I push away from the counter to zip my skirt as he sinks back down to one knee and puts my boot back on.
Once he’s satisfied, he looks up at me, our eyes lock, and he straightens over me.
“I… I have to fix my hair and makeup,” I manage.
“Sounds like you’re kicking me out this time,” he jokes.
All I can do is nod.
He leans down to kiss my cheek, his hand squeezing mine. “I’ll see you out there.”
With one last look at me over his shoulder, he opens the door and disappears on the other side of it. The moment it closes, I think my heart starts up again.
Holy shit.
Holyshit.
As the night goes on, and I get back into the groove of work, I’m less of a mess.
I still turn into a puddle every time I look in Nick’s direction, and whenever I get a moment to actually go sit with him, I find myself blushing harder than I ever have.
We have a game going on. Every time I go to the table, we have to answer questions about one another. Basic, easy ones. Questions that take less than a minute to answer.
So far, I’ve learned he has a brother, his childhood imaginary friend was a fairy, that he would get on a boat during the zombie apocalypse and take his chances dying at sea or finding an abandoned island rather than having to constantly be on the move, and he once had a three-legged cat named Bingo.
“Isn’t Bingo usually a dog’s name?” I tease him.
“We’re going to discuss bad dog names now? Okay. Why did you name your dog Pack?” he asks.
I hold up my hand, second and third pressed to my thumb, pointer and pinky up. “Go Wolfpack,” I say about the mascot of the college I went to.
