Chapter 14 Andie #2
“Breathe,” Noah whispers, amusement dancing in his eyes, his lips tilted into the smallest of smiles.
I greedily suck in a deep breath and release it. I definitely needed that. Feeling red flush my cheeks, I turn my gaze to look at my feet, my toes fidgeting.
He finally takes a step back, and I instantly miss the heat of his body. Padding into the living room, he enters his bedroom. I follow him before he can send me on my merry way. He heads straight into the ensuite bathroom.
His bathroom still has some fog from his shower, and the mirror covering one side of the room is smudged, the black-and-white tiles wet with condensation.
“Sit,” I tell him, discarding the nervousness I was feeling. He needs to be treated. He can be angry later.
Startled, Noah almost drops his towel. “Fuck,” he lets out a curse under his breath. “Give a guy a warning, Andie.” He shakes his head, tightening his hold on the towel.
My lips lift in a smirk at him. Nodding my head at the counter, I indicate to him to do as I asked. Grumbling under his breath, he lowers himself, crossing his hands over his chest and his feet on the ground.
Putting the bag on the counter and grabbing the disinfectant, I pour a few drops on a cotton swab. I try to reach his forehead where there’s a gash, but his crossed legs in front of him, on top of his height, make it difficult for me.
With a shake of his head and a sigh, he parts his feet and pulls me between them, his hands on my waist, causing my breath to hitch.
With wide eyes, I can’t help but roam his face. Even with all the cuts and bruises, he’s still the most beautiful man I’ve ever laid my eyes on. “Go ahead,” he prompts me, breaking the trance I was in.
Patting all the spots on his face and neck, I discard the cotton and grab the ointment. Squeezing a dollop on my finger, I apply it over the nastiest cut on his cheek. “Sssss,” I hiss and scrunch my nose, as if it’s hurting me, while he stands there without a twitch in his eye.
He cocks an eyebrow in amusement at me, hands still branding my waist, the heat expanding to places it has no business expanding, like between my legs for starters.
“What? It looks nasty. I’m afraid that I’ll hurt you,” I tell him, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
“You won’t hurt me,” he whispers, his breath skating over my skin, sending a tremor wracking through me which I barely manage to hide.
“Okay,” I breathe out, getting back to work while his naked chest and tattoos taunt me, tempt me to lick them up.
Noah must see something on my face because he says, his jaw clenched, “Don’t look at me like that, Andie.”
Twisting back the cap on the ointment, I ask, “Like what?”
“Like you want to taste every inch of my skin,” he growls, reading my mind. How does he do it, I wonder.
I’ve always had to spell it out for others. But Noah, he takes one look at me and knows what I’m thinking. And it’s scary. Scary to know that I can get attached to him. I can get addicted to him, knowing he’ll never be mine, because to him, all I am is his best friend’s little sister.
Regardless, I don’t let my emotions run rampant and focus on the sexual tension reaching sky-high between us.
“Maybe I do.” I let my words linger in the space between us. Letting him decide how to proceed because his proximity has already made me delirious, and I can’t be trusted to make a proper judgment.
Standing straight, he picks me up and deposits me on the same counter he was leaning against just a moment ago. My hands land on his broad shoulders, searching for balance.
“You came to me like this?” Noah’s teeth grind against each other.
My brows furrow at his sudden change in topic, wondering what he means by that.
His dark gaze painfully roves from my face to my sleep shorts. He elaborates, reading the question on my face. “You came to me in these shorts?” He spits the word as if it disgusts him.
His hands bunch my hoodie at my waist, as if holding on so that he doesn’t let himself be overtaken by whatever he’s feeling.
Do I look bad? I forgot to change in my hurry. I know there’s no gap in my thighs anymore, and they’re too thick.
“Yes,” I whisper, trying not to feel this sense of rejection as my head hangs low. I’ve been trying to love my body the way it is now, with all its stretch marks and my weight. I want him to think of me as beautiful.
Is that too much to ask?
His words bring me out of the reverie of my thoughts. “These shorts…they’re too short, Andie,” he says the words like it pains him. My heart rate picks up when his fingers play with the hem of my shorts, his knuckles brushing my thighs.
“And?” I ask, my words more a breath than sound, hands fisted over his shoulders.
His narrowed eyes suddenly dart to me, catching my breath. “And everybody could see these milky thighs, Andie,” he growls. His eyes go back to my exposed skin, and he caresses my thighs with his knuckles, his fingers moving like a feather.
I melt right there. Because what on God’s green earth does he mean!?
“I don’t want anybody to look at them,” he muses, lost in his mind, yet shrinking the space between us.
“Y…You don’t?” I stutter, unable to form coherent sentences. My mind has taken a back seat, lust taking over.
“No,” he announces. His eyes flick back to mine, but they’re now nearly swallowed by the black. “Looking at you is a privilege, Andie. One, I don’t think I can handle anyone else having,” he breathes.
My own breath gets stuck in my throat. His hands slide lower, closer to my apex, sending unbearable sensations through my body. When it becomes too much, I close my legs, his hand trapped between them.
His eyes flare with heat at that. “Remember your safe word, Andie?”
“Yes…” The word is barely out of my mouth before he’s pulling my shorts down in one swoop.
“Good girl.” His eyes widen when he peers down at my legs. It’s like he has stopped breathing altogether until he exhales, “No panties?”
I shrug. “These are sleep shorts.” I didn’t think to change in my hurry, too worried thinking about him.
An uncontrolled whimper slips out of my mouth when he clutches the shorts at his nose and inhales them like an addict, his eyes rolling back as a groan works up his throat. “Fuck, they smell like you.”
He drops the shorts on the floor, his hands gripping the counter as his head hangs low. “Fuck,” he curses under his breath.
His blond locks fall over his face, and I have this insane urge to run my fingers through them, see how soft they feel.
The moment I comb through his hair, a groan reverberates from deep within his chest, making me rub my thighs as I feel the wetness between them.
Noah surprises me once again by dropping to his knees. As he looks up at me, I marvel at how the light hits his sharp features, his high cheekbones and jawline covered with his beard.
The last time he was between my legs, his stubble left the delicious burn marks all over my legs. I want that again, and with the looks of it, my wish might just come true.
Without hesitation or warning, he spreads my leg and dives right in. A gasp travels out of my mouth, my hand finding purchase in his hair while the other rests behind me, keeping me upright as my back arches.
His fingers dig into my thighs as his tongue peeks out and thrusts straight inside, lapping up my juices.
“Noah, yes, more…” I moan, my eyes trained on him, no matter how much the pleasure from his mouth begs me to shut them.
I feel pleasure building low in my belly, the knot tightening as it searches for a way to release. My hips buck on the counter as I shamelessly grind myself against his mouth, the scratch of his beard heightening the sensations taking over my body.
“Oh my, yes, Noah. Ahhh,” I emit a soft cry, my voice raspy to even my own ears.
The pleasure seems within reach, waiting to unfurl, and when I think I’m about to tip over the edge, Noah pulls back.
“Why?” I literally whine, not at all caring if I come across as desperate.
An evil glint shines in his eyes, his beard and jaw covered with my juices, as his lips lift into a smirk. “Ask nicely, Andie. And only then will I allow you to come on my tongue,” he commands, his filthy words edging me.
At this point, I’ll beg if it gets him back between my legs. “Please, Noah. Please let me come,” I exhale.
He thwarts any attempt of mine to rub my legs together and seek friction. “Say it all, Andie,” he growls, his fingers digging in my flesh.
He’s the one in control, even though his six-foot-five form is on his knees for me.
“Please let me come on your tongue, Noah,” I beg. The heat on his face and the way his green eyes darken let me know I did it right.
“Good girl.” With that, he’s back between my legs, building the impending orgasm again.
My hold on his soft hair tightens as he plays with me with both his tongue and fingers. His thumb presses my bundle of nerves as he adds three fingers inside me.
The stretch feels too good to hold on to my moan, and I scream like a wanton woman. My eyes roll back with the overwhelming pleasure.
Noah’s nails dig into my skin the second my eyes fall shut. My elbow gives out, and I let my body fall back, the mirror supporting me.
Heaving as sweat beads on my forehead, my eyes flutter open only to bear witness to the most erotic sight in front of me, not caring about the fact that I’ve barely had any sexual experiences.
There sits Noah on his knees, his tongue invading me, and his fingers parting my folds with one hand while the other is stroking his thick length in tandem with his tongue, the towel lying around his hips forgotten.
My hazy gaze locks on the tattoo on his thigh. I didn’t know he had one there. It has always been hidden. I can’t make out what it exactly is, but the knowledge of him having it alone is disastrous for my heart.
The glorious sight is enough to topple me over the cliff, the knot in my belly unfurling as a violent orgasm rips through me, my body erupting with pleasure, shuddering with every breath as I shamelessly grind into his face to ride over my climax.
“That’s right, Andie. Claim your pleasure,” he growls against my folds, sending a zing of vibration coursing through my entire body, and I come again with a cry.
Noah’s hand works faster too as he chases his pleasure, while riding me through mine, lapping up every drop like a man possessed.
When I scratch his head with my nails, he comes with a roar, his chest vibrating as his mouth still eats me out.
My eyes take him in with rapt attention, wanting to know what if it was my hand jerking him instead of his. Gradually, when our orgasm subsides, our chests panting as we catch our breath, I pull Noah to his feet, grabbing his hand with his cum over it.
I suck his fingers into my mouth before he can protest; his eyes flare with wild and untamed heat, his gulp audible as he barely restrains himself.
A moan works its way up my throat at his musky taste, making me roll my eyes as my tongue darts between his fingers, wanting to lick up every drop.
He groans, his jaw clenched as he lets me do what I want. “Fucking hell,” he curses under his breath, his body shuddering as he stands between my parted legs.
I release his hand with a pop when it’s all cleaned. “I want to suck you off,” I declare.
Noah’s brows furrow as his hands brace against the counter, making me crane my head to look at his beard still shining with my release.
“You just did,” he says.
“I want to suck your penis.”