Page 89 of Hold Me Today

Curious minds want to knowexactlywhat he’s readjusting.

The thought yanks a whimper from me.

Nick goes still, tension seeping into his hand and arms where there wasn’t any before. I hear his breath hitch, then a deep pull in through his nose. The air fairly crackles with a time-old throw-down: who will make the first move?

Me.

I lower the knife, closing the switch blade, and deliberately place it on the floor at our feet.

The white flag of surrender. Throwing down the gauntlet. However you want to put it, I make it clear that the next move belongs to him.

He doesn’t disappoint.

His lips wordlessly find my neck, in that spot I love so much. My skin flares with heat, and I allow my head to fall to the side in complete submission.Yes, more of that.His nose rasps up, up, up, until he’s turning my head to the side and claiming my mouth with his. Whereas his hands were patient while whittling the wood, his kiss is not. It pulls me under like that long-ago wave crashing down over his head, and I go, willingly, moaning into his mouth.

One broad hand fits over my stomach, dragging me back until there’s no space between us. His legs are splayed, his jean-covered cock thrusting against my back without a hint of shame, and I rock back and forth, trying to alleviate the pressure, my clit already pulsing.

“Keep your legs spread.”

His rough timbre reverberates through me as his big hand moves between my legs, clasping me boldly through my fleece-lined leggings. As though I’m having an out-of-body experience, I watch, transfixed, as he rubs my clit through the material. He uses three fingers, the pressure he keeps relentlessly steady.

My head falls back on his chest. My hips rise, again and again, to meet the circling of those fingers. My eyes never once leave from ground zero.

“Nick,” I pant, “that feels so good.”

He chuckles against my back. Tears his fingers away, leaving me to protest with an attempt to grab his hand, before I realize he’s aiming for exactly where I want him. He slides his hand under the band of my leggings. Under my underwear, too.

Yes, please.

Nick glides his fingers over my pubic bone, his other hand coming around me to hook a thumb under the waistband to give him more room without the elastic snapping back into place. I feel the first touch of his fingertip to the hood of my sex like a junkie feels the first prick of the needle, my body jolting upward. His ankles hook around mine, keeping my legs from curling inward at the pleasure rioting through me.

We haven’t even had sex more than a handful of times, and yet it’s like he can already predict my every move.

Every need.

Every damn thought that enters my head.

Harsh breathing echoes alongside Gollum being Creepy Gollum on my laptop, and then I can’t focus on anything else because Nick sinks two fingers into my pussy and steals every last thought that isn’tgive me more of that.

“C’mon,koukla,” he grinds out roughly, “ride my fingers the way you ride my cock.”

Dirty-talking Nick is my favorite Nick.

My hips swivel down, curling upward, before doing it all over again. He thrusts those fingers up, curling them on every pass. His thumb glosses over my clit, circling in time to the tempo of his magical fingers. Pleasure spikes through me like a ping-pong ball gone rogue. I strain against his legs, my fingers digging into his muscled, jean-clad thighs.

Those two fingers pull out of me, delving through my folds, leaving wetness in their path. And then they’re pressing flat on my clit, rubbing and circling and driving me absolutely mad, and not the least bit concerned that it’s Nick of all people seeing me come undone.

I cry out his name as the orgasm rips through me.

I’m aware of my legs quivering.

I’m aware of how he doesn’t stop touching me until he’s wrung out every drop that he can.

I’m aware of the hard-on against my spine, the way it twitches in Nick’s jeans when I come.

I push Nick’s hands away, then slip off the stool to my knees. Shoving my empty stool to the side, I don’t waste time in reaching forward to the brass button separating me from Nick’s very large bulge.

His hand lands on the back of my head. “Ermione, you don’t need to—”

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