The Stocking Was Hung(26)

“I wish we were anywhere but here…”

Oh my f*cking God, I have a guy’s fingers in my twat in a public dressing room. At the mall. AT THE FUCKING MALL!

I know I said I wanted to embrace the slut and BE the slut, but this is slutty even for me. I can’t even tell him to stop because if he takes those perfectly long, thick fingers out of me right now I will cry and quite possibly punch my hand through the wall in front of me.

What a f*cking conundrum.

Like he immediately knows what I’m thinking, the arm Sam hold securely around my waist moves up until his hand is gently covering my mouth while his fingers continue their glorious assault between my legs, twisting and sliding through all the wetness he’s pulled from me just by being him.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” he soothes me. “No one can hear us with the loud music, just let go, Noel. I need to feel you come on my fingers.”

Sweet Jesus, Mary, Joseph, and the Wise Men, that’s it, I’m done. Another smooth flick of his thumb over my clit and I’m tumbling into oblivion, moaning and shouting muffled curses against his hand as I do what he says and come on his fingers. My hips jerk forward and I hold them suspended while Sam pushes those beautiful fingers even deeper inside of me and holds them still, letting me ride out my orgasm against his hand, his palm bumping against my clit until I feel like I might die from coming.

Holy longest orgasm in the world, Batman!

The explosion and thumping pleasure between my thighs slowly fades away until I’m back to panting and trying to catch my breath against Sam’s hand, which he finally drops from my mouth. My head thumps forward against the wall of the dressing room and my hand that was busy clutching his arm joins the first one to hold myself up. Sam’s head drops into the crook of my neck while we both take a minute to slow our breathing and I groan through another wave of pleasure when he slowly pulls his fingers out of me and tugs my dress back down.

“Are you okay?” he asks softly when I continue holding my face against the cold wall to cool off my flushed cheeks and try to form words.

“Dead. Legs no work. Me sleepy,” I mumble.

I feel the rumble of laughter in his chest that is still pressed against my back and he grabs my hips, slowly turning me around to face him. I move like a limp noodle, my back collapsing against the wall when he gets me turned and my arms falling uselessly at my sides.

“I’m definitely buying this dress,” he remarks with a smirk, brushing a few errant strands of hair out of my eyes.

“I’m definitely letting you buy this dress. It has magical powers,” I inform him as he scoops up his previously dropped bag of presents while I quickly pull the magical dress off of my body and slip back into my jeans and sweater. Fuck modesty at this point. The guy had his hand up to his knuckles in my doodlebug, he can look at me in my red thong and matching bra as much as he wants.

And going by the dazed look in his eyes, he wants. As I pull my sweater down over my lace covered breasts, he groans in disappointment and shifts that lovely package in his pants to a more comfortable spot.

When I get my boots pulled back on and the dress returned to its hanger, Sam grabs my hand and tugs my barely working legs out of the dressing room.

“So, do I just toss this bag under the tree and let everyone grab their shit?” Sam asks as he pays for my dress at the front counter.

“Uh, no. You wrap them, you know, since they’re Christmas presents and all.” I laugh as the cashier hands me the tissue wrapped dress, now safely tucked away in a red holiday bag where it can’t tempt Sam and I do run back into the dressing room for a little more fun with fingers.

“Like, with tape and scissors and paper with snowmen on it and shit?” he asks with a grimace, grabbing my hand again as we walk out into the main part of the mall and head to the food court.

“Yes, with tape and scissors and paper with snowmen and maybe if you’re lucky, we’ll even find some with cute little kittens with tiny red bows around their necks,” I tease him.

“How about I just let you be in charge of wrapping, preferably in the nude, and I’ll watch,” he winks.

“I think that can be arranged,” I reply with a wink of my own as we join my family in the middle of the food court, arguing about whether Sbarro Pizza is a better choice than Taco Bell for lunch.

“You’re going to be the death of me, Noel Holiday,” Sam whispers before giving me a peck on the cheek and then pulling my chair out for me.

You’re already killing my heart, Sam Stocking.





Chapter 10




Sam




“She’s fine, I don’t think my wife and our mother will bite her,” Nicholas laughs, lifting his bottle of beer up to his mouth and taking a swallow.

I turn my head back guiltily from looking out the kitchen doorway to the living room where Noel has been busily wrapping presents with her mom and Casey for the last half hour. It would be best if I don’t tell her brother that I’m not worried about Noel because I’m too busy daydreaming about her * and those little throaty moans she made every time I moved my fingers a certain way inside of her.

Jesus, she’s hot when she comes. Fuck, she’s hot when she just stands there, breathing.

While Reggie is busy outside checking bulbs and making sure all of his lights are in working order for the judging later tonight, Nicholas decided we needed a little one-on-one time in the kitchen. I’ve spent the last two beers ignoring his glaring eyes and his jokes about my worry for his sister every time I glance over my shoulder.