The Firework Exploded (The Holidays #3)(33)

They say if you hold back a sneeze, you can die from rupturing a blood vessel in your head. I’m certain the same thing would happen by holding in an orgasm. I’m clenching my fists, thighs, and ass cheeks together so tightly that my muscles are starting to burn. Everything hurts, including my angry dick that just wants to finish this thing, take a nap, and possibly smoke a cigarette.

When the phone starts vibrating again and everyone in the room remains quiet to try and hear the lost phone that isn’t really lost, but doing a fabulous job of bringing me to orgasm, I start talking to myself in my head. Except it’s not in my head, it’s out loud, and when Nicholas and Alex look at me like I’m insane, I realize I kind of sound like Samuel L. Jackson on that YouTube video where he’s reading that amazingly inappropriate children’s book. Noel bought that book for Nicholas and his wife when they had their daughter, Holly, back at Christmas. We’ve read that book to her each time we’ve babysat for them and we’ve come to the conclusion that it has magical powers. Holly always passes out halfway through the book. I’m kind of, sort of hoping the same thing will happen with my dick because as much as I’m dying to come, this really isn’t the best time and place.

“Please, go the f*ck to sleep. Jesus Christ, what the f*ck? Go to sleep,” I mumble, reciting the words from the book.

“Shut up, Sam! I hear it,” Nicholas scolds, bending forward until his head is by my chest.

You would think having my future brother-in-law’s face a foot away from my crotch would kill the moment, but sadly, it doesn’t. I can smell his beer breath wafting up to me and all it does is make me think about how good Noel’s mouth tastes when she drinks beer and kisses me, because the phone continues to vibrate and… MOTHER OF FUCKS I’m buying Noel a whole truck load of vibrators as a wedding present.

But seriously, this shit needs to stop right now. I haven’t come in my pants since I was fifteen and Jessica Princeton dry-humped me in the high school parking lot. She’s was a slutty little thing, humping anything with a dick that year in school, but man alive she gave good dry-humping in the back of her 1995 Dodge Omni.

Shit, shit, shit! Think of Noel dry-humping me, THINK OF NOEL DRY-HUMPING ME! I can’t come in my pants thinking about Jizz Bucket Jessica!

“Why do I hear a humming sound coming from Sam’s pants?” Nicholas questions, moving his head lower until his eyes are right by my belly button.

Shit, shit, shit! Don’t think of ANYONE dry-humping!

“HOW COME YOU CAN DO ALL THIS OTHER GREAT SHIT, BUT YOU CAN’T LIE THE FUCK DOWN AND SLEEP?!” I scream irrationally, leaning to the side to look around Nicholas’ face so I can scowl down at my lap.

It’s no use. No matter how much I yell, no matter how hard I try to picture Nicholas giving me a blow job (shut up, I’m doing whatever I can to gross myself out and make my dick go the f*ck to sleep), nothing works. My balls are tighter than ever, and with each tremor of the phone in my pocket rattling against my dick as Alex continues to call me, I can feel my orgasm getting closer and closer. I clench my teeth so hard I’m pretty sure I hear one of them crack, and the visions of Nicholas bobbing up and down on my dick that I try to hold on to, while disturbing, are immediately replaced with images of Noel wearing that little blue lace number, straddling my lap.

“Is your phone in your pocket? Has it been in there this whole time, you ass-f*cker?” Nicholas asks with a huff of irritation, reaching his hand into my pocket and fishing around.

My hips automatically jerk forward when his hand in my pocket wraps around the still-vibrating phone. His head whips down to my lap and the unavoidable tent in my pants, then back up toward my face with wide, stunned eyes as I try to explain to him that what is happening right now has nothing to do with his hand in my pocket and his knuckles brushing up against my hard-as-a-rock dick.

“IT’S THE DRY-HUMPING AND VIBRATING! THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH YOUR MAN HANDS IN MY PANTS OR JIZZY JESSICA! CLOSE YOUR EYES, CUT THE CRAP, SLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!” I screech, spitting out more lines from the children’s book.

Nicholas hurriedly yanks his hand out of my pocket and scrambles backward until he bumps into the kitchen counter, not understanding that I’m still reciting words from the book and not talking directly to him.

“Did you just tell me to close my eyes so you could dry-hump your dick against my hand? What the f*ck is wrong with you?!” Nicholas shouts, quickly turning toward the sink.

His hands fumble with the faucet, shaking and slipping until he finally gets it turned on. He leans forward and sticks his whole head under the flow, turning his face up toward the water.

“MY EYES! OH, MY GOD, MY EYES!” he moans in misery, pulling his face back to cup his hands under the fall of water.

He splashes handfuls of water against his face repeatedly, cursing and shouting about being blind. Turning his head to the side, he then sticks his ear right under the flow of water, flipping his head from one side to the other to drown both of them.

“I thought I heard you moan when I got closer! I can never un-hear that sound!” he wails.

“IT HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU!” I argue, pushing my chair back from the table and standing on unsteady legs. “I HAVEN’T COME IN SEVENTY DAYS, TWELVE HOURS, AND FIFTEEN MINUTES!”

Not that I’ve been counting. FUCK YOU, STUPID DICK THAT CHOOSES THE WORST TIME EVER TO START WORKING AGAIN!