13. Thirteen
Thirteen
Lennon
“ S o, it may need a little more than one new board. Also, nice pants.”
Noah chuckles and shoves his hands into the black jeans he’s wearing, kicking up rocks from the gravel driveway as we make our way to the base of the steps. He shoved the sleeves of his dark green henley to his elbows, revealing the veins running along his forearms.
Definitely something I don’t need to be seeing.
It’s indecent.
“No shit,” he says. Stopping and turning next to me. “I’ve been here three times, Lennon. I knew this would be more work than you were saying.”
“Is that why you’re wearing jeans?” I ask. “I’ve never seen you wear jeans.”
He smiles, white teeth flashing. “So, you like them? I knew they made my ass look good.”
I can’t fight the smirk that sneaks onto my face as I roll my eyes. He’s certainly not wrong, but I refuse to acknowledge the arrogance of that statement. “So, can you fix it?”
Noah leans in, crowding my space just enough that my pulse quickens. His voice is lower, making his next statement feel almost intimate. It’s too much this early in the morning.
For a casual friendship, my ovaries sure love to scream at me in his presence.
“Of course, I can fix it, Lennon.”
Jesus Christ.
I clear my throat, anxious to place a little distance between us–anything to break apart some of the tension. He had said that one kiss was all I’d get, so I don’t know why he is here or why I feel like this.
Maybe I’m just a terrible friend.
“I’m planning on putting a gallery wall up in the living room while you work on this, but I already bought the treated wood. It’s in there.” I nod towards the red barn, but Noah’s gaze stays firmly fixed on mine, a small smile permanently etched into his features.
“You never answered my question,” he says, and I frown.
“What question?”
“Did I pass?” He rolls his tongue along his cheek, but I’m still not fully registering what he’s talking about.
I shake my head, scoffing. “Pass high school algebra? What do you mean?”
Noah laughs again, taking another step forward until his forearm rests against the wooden plank connecting the porch to the porch's cover. I hadn’t realized I backed up, and now, with him this close, it feels like there’s no air left to fill up my lungs. “Please,” he says, and my eyes flick down toward his lips just as his tongue darts out to wet them. “I sent you the best dick pic I had, and you didn’t even tell me if I passed?”
The cucumber.
My stomach flips when he continues holding my gaze. “You said we wouldn’t be kissing again,” I say, my voice barely audible. “What would be the point of giving you a passing score?”
When he speaks, I can almost feel the vibrations on my skin. “What if I said I can’t stop thinking about it?” he says. “What if I wanted to do it again?”
My chest is rising and falling rapidly with every shallow breath.
Maybe Cass had a point. Maybe there is something here, and we need to just get it out of our systems. I certainly wouldn’t mind, but it would be imperative that I keep my head on straight–establish exactly what we would be doing as to not spook him.
“Why wouldn’t you kiss me?” I ask. “The first time I brought it up.”
Noah leans back a bit, shock plainly written on his face.
I’d love to say it didn’t bother me–love to say that I am perfectly fine not knowing, but that wouldn’t be true. I want to know what was in his head then and why it suddenly changed. If I’m going to ask for what I want, we need to have some clear communication first.
“I–” he pauses, gathering himself. “I don’t know,” he admits. “I wanted to, but we have mutual friends. I thought it would complicate things.”
My nose crinkles at the thought. Sure, kissing Noah could come with complications–it has come with complications–but the man’s an expert in casual. To some extent, he shouldn’t fear complications. “So, you eventually decided that didn’t matter and kissed me anyway?”
Noah looks almost offended. “Well, we spent an entire night on the couch after. We were watching movies. You didn’t act like anything changed. You called me an asshat three days later.”
“A term of endearment, I promise.” I’m not sure why I’m pressing. I know who he is–or at least what his reputation is. Maybe I just want to be clearer about what’s going on before I jump into whatever this is. If I can assure him there are no complications and assert that I know exactly what this is, maybe he will feel comfortable enough to give in to whatever desire he’s confessing. “I’m not under the false impression that you want anything more from me than sex.”
“That’s not true.”
I gawk at him. “It’s not?”
“We’re friends. At least, I’d like to be.” Noah still looks somewhat offended, and I decide that I’m going to do something very, very stupid.
I press one last time. “Friends that kissed.”
“I guess.”
This porch may never get fucking fixed and at this point I’m okay with that. At least the chimney guy did his part, and I don’t have to worry about bats anymore.
“Okay,” I start, trying to keep my tone level. “Why don’t we just have sex?”
That got him. Good .
Noah looks like I’ve grown three heads and started speaking French.
He’s already rejected me once, so there’s no point in being fearful of that. The worst he can do is say no, though I’m really hoping that won’t be the case.
“Just once,” I say. “We can deal with whatever this weird tension is, get it out of our systems, and carry on exactly as you say. We can be friends.”
His face looks blank, and I can’t for the life of me figure out what he’s feeling. He’s probably going to say no. Again.
“Why?” he asks.
I turn, taking one step up the stairs to get away from him. I’ve been more than clear–done everything I can to prove to him that I won’t come crawling and begging for a committed relationship–assuming that’s what he’s so afraid of.
Why? Because he’s hot? Because, for some strange reason, I trust him? Because I must be in the worst dry spell ever with how badly I want to feel his hands on me.
I scoff, moving back down the steps to stand directly in front of him. “Because I want to have sex with you, Noah.”
“You’re sure?” he asks, and I roll my eyes.
“Yes I’m fucking sure. I wouldn’t have asked if I weren’t–”
His mouth is on mine before I can get another word out, hungry and seeking as he grips my face in his hands, desperate to draw me closer.
The soft press of his lips, the warmth of his skin, all of it has my stomach flipping, my breath catching as if he’s stolen it completely. His fingers are in my hair, tangling in the red strands as I grip his shirt, pulling until he presses his body against mine, backing me into the railing he’s supposed to be fixing.
I pray to all the gods it doesn’t fucking break.
“Is that a yes?” I whisper, our breaths mingling. He tastes like espresso, and I briefly consider changing my coffee order from chai to whatever he drinks in the morning.
Without responding, he’s kissing me again, teeth tugging at my bottom lip as if he’s trying to devour me. When his tongue runs along the seam of my lips, requesting access, I moan, desperate for more.
Noah’s hands move from my face to my hips, slowly migrating toward my ass before he picks me up, allowing me to feel how fucking hard he is.
He pulls back, lips hovering over mine, eyes searching. “Where?” he asks.
I suck in a breath–another–forcing the direction from my lips. Honestly, I’d have zero complaints about him fucking me against the railing. “Bedroom’s on the ground floor,” I answer, “just off the kitchen.” A small sound squeaks out when he squeezes my ass in his firm grip, turning to step up onto the porch. “Don’t fucking drop me. You still haven’t fixed this.”
Noah chuckles, his mouth back on mine as he carries me through the house, the screen door slamming behind us until he sets me on my feet in the bedroom.
My hands are gripping the bottom of his shirt, tugging upward until it’s off, and I get the view of him shirtless in my room, turned on and looking at me as if I’m the only thing he’s ever wanted.
Noah’s hand sneaks under my shirt, his thumb flicking out over my nipple and sending a jolt of pleasure through my body. I tip my head back, his lips on my neck, hands working until the shirt is gone, his fingers unhooking my belt before tugging my jeans off.
When he steps back, his dark gaze takes in the black lace thong, my lips part.
Noah climbs onto the bed, pushing the comforter back and lying directly in the center.
“Get up here,” he says, and I listen. Straddling his legs and wondering why he’s still wearing pants at all.
I press down, grinding myself against him to get some kind of relief before his fingers tuck into the sides of my underwear, and he gently pulls down. I move until they’re completely off, and there’s no hiding how wet I am.
He grabs my ass, pulling me up his body, and I freeze. When he catches my hesitation, I tilt my head to the side, my hair spilling in a curtain around us.
“What?” I ask, and he smirks, the expression leaving me wanting more.
Noah keeps his hands firmly planted and tugs again. “I want you to sit on my face, Lennon.”
Holy shit.
“Are you–”
He chuckles again, and I can feel the sound everywhere. “I’m sure,” he says. “Now, come on and get up here.”
My pulse spikes, nerves slowly leaking in. I’ve never done this before, but I don’t hesitate. I crawl up until I’m hovering over him, my knees on either side of his head. Noah lets out a dark sound from deep in his throat, one that has me desperate with need.
“Put your hands on the headboard,” he commands, and I oblige just before his arms wrap around me, hands pulling my waist down until I can feel his tongue right where I need him most.
“Oh shit.” My hands grip the headboard, knuckles turning white as I suck in a breath through my teeth. I’ve never felt this out of control. With every lick, I’m fighting the urge to move my hips, trying to hold myself up enough so he can breathe. The sensation builds, and I know I’m not going to last long.
My entire body is lit aflame when Noah tugs me down more, another sound rumbling from deep in his throat. He keeps working me as if he’s a starved man, and I have the pleasure of providing him with his last meal on earth.
With his fingers digging into my thighs, I give in, allowing myself to give chase to the promise of an orgasm I know is within reach.
“Noah,” I pant, moving my hips. He encourages me with another deep sound. “I can’t. I’m–”
His grip tightens, and with one final drag of his tongue, I’m shuttering around him, barely holding myself up.
When the pleasure slowly fades, leaving me boneless, he grabs my waist. Guiding me down his body, I follow his lead until my hands are on his chest, and I can feel his cock straining in his jeans.
I tug at his belt as he watches me work his pants down until he’s fully naked in my bed.
My mind misfires as I take him in, fully on display and sprawled out. I cannot believe I’m having sex with Noah Ashwood.
He sits up, my knees on either side of his hips, as he reaches into the pocket of his jeans that are now tossed to the side on the mattress. He opens his wallet, fishes out a condom, and grips it in his hand as he captures my mouth in a smoldering kiss.
My entire body burns with the heat of his lips. A flush blooms over my face, down my neck, and across my chest. When I look down at Noah as he pulls back, his lips are swollen, eyes hooded with desire.
“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about this since you demanded I kiss you.” He moves my hair off my shoulder, fingers slowly ghosting the skin, sending electricity everywhere.
“Yeah?” I breathe, my fingers exploring the planes of his chest.
“Yeah,” he confirms before bringing the condom up and tearing the wrapper with his teeth.
When he’s fully sheathed, I line myself up over him, feeling the press of his cock against my entrance as I slowly sink down.
A whimper escapes past my lips as he stretches me slowly until he’s filling me completely.
His mouth presses against my neck, drawing out sounds until I’m moving, grinding against him in a way that has me climbing all over again.
I’ve been on a lot of dates. Had a handful of serious relationships, but I’ve never had sex like this. I can’t help but wonder what that means–if one time will be enough.
Noah’s hands find my hips again, encouraging me to press down harder–faster.
“You feel so good, Lennon.” His voice is low, as if he’s sharing an intimate secret. “That’s it,” he says. “Take what you need.”
My eyes close, hair softly brushing against my back as I move, listening to Noah’s breath in my ear. It’s all too much–building until I can’t take it anymore.
The pleasure peaks, my body slowing, riding out the last of the aftershocks until I’m sated.
Noah smirks, one arm looping under my ass and flipping us over until he’s on top, thrusting and looking like a God as he hovers over me.
My eyes trace the lines of his face, his arms, his chest–soaking in every inch of him as he moves, his hair mussed with a strand falling across his brow. There’s a sheen of sweat coating every inch of skin, and when I lean forward, kissing his collarbone, my tongue flicks out to taste him.
It’s salt and movie nights on the couch. I can’t seem to get enough of him.
I lie back, and Noah gently grabs my wrists, pinning them overhead.
“Look at you,” he says, his eyes drinking me in. “Fuck, Lennon. You’re taking me so well.”
He sits up, his hands moving from my wrists to grip the sides of my waist as he pulls me to him. At this angle, he’s so deep I can hardly think.
That’s when I feel it. “Oh my God,” I whisper, the slow build starting again.
Noah’s face is determined as he gently slides one hand over my stomach, down until his fingers press right where I need him. He’s moving, rubbing, climbing with me as I arch upward.
When his thrusts turn more erratic, low sounds escaping his throat, I close my eyes, feeling everything as we both finish together.
Noah leans down, gently kissing me before he rolls off, leaving us both sweaty and panting.
“That was–” I don’t finish the sentence.
“Yeah,” he breathes.
I try to soak it up–keep any thoughts at bay as I recover. He’s ruined me for everyone else, and the worst part is we only get once.
What a fucking mess.
“So–” I start, not sure how to respond. Noah’s used to this kind of thing. He does this a lot. I let out a breathy chuckle, trying not to show how I’m feeling. “This is the part where you leave?” I ask.
Noah laughs, leaning over and threading his arm between my legs, his hand on my back as he lifts me up and flips me over. My head rests on his chest, one leg thrown over his.
“I can’t leave, yet,” he whispers, his hand running over my hair. “Let’s just lay here for a minute.” He kisses the top of my head. “Then I can fix your porch.”
I nestle even closer, soaking up the scent of his cologne–vanilla and tobacco with a hint of espresso. My eyes grow heavy, my body sated and molded to his as sleep finally pulls me under.