“Next time,” I slurred.
*
I wokeup the next morning with a start.
“Crazy drunk dreams,” I said hoarsely, groping around for the water I usually kept on the nightstand. It wasn’t there. I blinked in the light that streamed through the windows.
Wait, why is the view different?Was I in Fiona’s room? That couldn’t be right. I sat up, yawning, and looked down. I was completely naked.
Crap.What the hell happened? I drank too much for sure. But it was starting to come back to me—Amber ruining my dessert, the abundant cognac.
The door opened, framing Owen.
Right. Andthat.
40
Owen
Iwas expecting next time to be in five, maybe ten minutes. I was pretty sure I could make her come again. It was addicting to watch Holly come undone. My cock ached as I thought about the noises she made.
But that wasn't going to be happening tonight, it seemed. Holly was sound asleep, sprawled on the couch. As much as I wanted her to wake up, straddle me, and ride my cock, that was going to have to wait. The first time I fucked her for real, I wanted to take my time, and I wanted her to be alert enough to feel every second of it.
Rudolph chose that moment to creep back into the living room. He licked Holly’s hand.
I picked her up. She murmured sleepily in my arms as I carried her upstairs to my bedroom. Her clothes were half off and her panties were somewhere downstairs, so I figured it was fine to undress her the rest of the way. I kissed her then covered her with the comforter. I watched her sleep.
Now what?
If I lay in the bed next to her, I knew I wouldn't sleep at all. I would count the seconds until she woke up. All I wanted to do was fuck her. Sliding my fingers into her had been intoxicating. I was still hard. I forced myself to calm down and went out to stand on the balcony in the cold, looking out over the city’s night lights.
*
The next morning,I heard Holly awake and talking to herself. I went up, fully expecting to fuck her, but she looked freaked out when I opened the door.
“Oh my God!” she shrieked. “Don't look! I don't have any clothes on!”
I dutifully turned around while she pulled a sheet over herself.
“I feel like this might be a little bit of shutting the door after the reindeer has already left the barn,” I told her.
“And now he decides to make Christmas references,” she huffed.
“Well, last night my face was in your—”
“Yes, I know where it was,” she snapped. “But that was when I was dressed. Things were held up and in place. Also I had the extra confidence boost of half a bottle of cognac.”
“Unless you bought it half full, the bottle was mostly gone. You left it outside my front door,” I informed her.
“No wonder I can barely remember anything,” she muttered to herself.
“I can jog your memory,” I said helpfully, turning around. The sheet was wrapped around her like a toga. I could make out the outline of her rock-hard nipples through the Egyptian cotton.
“It's a weekday. I can't just stay here in your bed all day,” she protested.
“You could.”
“I have to plan your winter festival. I have a to-do list,” she said.
