Chapter 29 Sabrina #2
You’re so weak for this man.
I really, really am.
Noah’s the first guy to ever truly get under my skin—to infuriate me and excite me and light me up in a way no one else has ever come close.
With his hands on my ass, his fingers digging into the flesh there, he carries me over to the stairs. He drags my wet shirt over my head and tosses it onto the concrete with a splat.
Then he tears my shorts and panties off. Only then does a sense of shyness prickle at me. It grows when he spreads me wide, exposing me completely.
“Prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen,” he murmurs. “You want me to fuck this pussy?”
“Yes, please.” My nipples tighten and my skin tingles with excitement.
His eyes darken until they’re nearly black in the moonlight. He looks so fucking good with his hair wet and slicked back and with droplets of water sliding down his face and neck.
“Keep looking at me like that, Curls, and I’m not going to last long.”
I smirk at the challenge, and in response, he groans, knowing he’s basically laid down the gauntlet.
The fear of being caught that swamped me moments ago has receded. Instead, the prospect thrills me.
Slipping my hand under the water, I tug his swim shorts down, exposing his cock.
The look of pure ecstasy on his face makes me feel powerful.
It’s funny how men think they’re the ones in charge. In reality, all it takes is a woman’s hand on their dick and they lose all sense.
“Sabrina.”
My name on his lips is like a song. Melodic and sensual.
I swirl my thumb around his tip and revel in the way he shudders. Water laps at his waist, the moonlight reflecting off the surface and hiding that part of him. But I don’t need to see him, not when I can feel him.
His eyes drift shut and his lips part as I work my hand up and down his length.
With a soft curse, he picks me up and switches places so he’s sitting on the stairs and I’m straddling his lap.
He lifts me up and pulls me in, but when his crown pushes against my entrance, he curses.
“What?” I hate how breathless I sound. I hate how obvious his effect on me is.
“I don’t have a condom.” He digs his fingers into my hips, holding me in place. His cock is right there. If I tilted my pelvis, he could very easily slip inside me.
“God, Noah. Don’t you know the rule? You should always bring a condom to the pool.
You never know when you might need it.” I can’t help but joke.
But the tease dies quickly and my chest tightens, but I force the words out anyway.
“I have an implant, and I’ve been tested. I’m okay with this if you are.”
He hesitates, indecision flickering over his features.
He’s going to shut this down, and that’s okay. I respect his choice not to take this step, even if my pussy will cry in protest.
Instead, he shocks me by plunging into me in one thrust and slamming his mouth against mine, swallowing my scream.
I hold on to him tighter, plundering his mouth with just as much fervor as he does mine.
If the way I dig my nails into his shoulders hurts, it doesn’t show.
His hips move against mine in perfect rhythm, like we’ve been doing this forever, the way we fit together, the instinctive way we can read one another’s desires.
“You feel so good.” He bites my bottom lip hard enough to leave it stinging. “I don’t want to want you,” he confesses against my ear.
Perhaps it should turn me off. I’m not sure what it says about me that his indecision only lights up my insides more brightly. Those words explain so perfectly his back-and-forth, the hot and cold attitude. It makes sense. His problem isn’t with me, but his own demons.
“But you do.”
I want to hear him say it—to admit to how badly he desires me.
“I do.” His breath gusts against my lips.
Powerful. That’s how it feels, knowing this man can’t resist me.
He presses a warm hand between my breasts and pushes my torso away from his body. Before I can ask why, he swoops down and laps at one breast.
“Oh, God.” My nipples have always been hypersensitive.
He turns his attention to the other side, and when he sucks hard, I go boneless. God, it’s a good thing he’s holding on to me. Otherwise I’d float away.
“Jesus, fuck. Could you come from this alone? Your pussy is squeezing the fuck out of my cock.”
“I might.” I roll my hips against his so my clit rubs his pelvis, adding more friction.
“You have no idea how sexy you are,” he murmurs.
If I had to guess, the words are less for me and more because he can’t help but voice his thoughts in this moment. I love that I can undo him like this. He’s always so cool and collected. A cold force on the tennis court. But when he’s inside me, he loses his fucking mind.
He sucks sharply on my breast, pulling a startled gasp from my throat, and in the next second, I shatter around him. He doesn’t stop, though he peers up at me, watching in awe as I fall apart.
Maybe I should be embarrassed to be seen in such a vulnerable state, but the pure wonder and appreciation only make me braver.
When my body stops contracting around his, he carries me out of the pool and over to a chaise beneath a covered section of the deck.
He slips out of me, but only so he can adjust my boneless body the way he wants it. With my left leg hooked over his shoulder, he slides back into me, and when he’s seated fully, we let out twin moans.
How is every movement so incredible?
Sex has never been bad before. I’ve had some mediocre encounters, sure, but I can say for certain that Noah is the best I’ve ever had. By far. He knows exactly how to play my body to get the best response.
The sparks that constantly fly when we’re together terrify me. Because it would be all too easy to become addicted to the high of him.
“I’m going to come,” he warns me, the veins in his neck straining. His abdominals flex, then he’s pulling out and pumping himself in vigorous strokes until hot jets of cum spray across my belly.
His chest heaves as he takes me in, the mess he’s made of me. “You look like a fucking goddess.”
My body spasms in response to the heat of his words.
As he looks his fill, goose bumps dimple my skin, and my nipples grow impossibly hard.
“Let me get you cleaned up.” He hikes his swim shorts up, then strides to a nearby storage locker and returns with a small stack of towels.
He dips the end of one towel into the pool and wrings it out, then returns to my side. He sets the dry towel down, then uses the damp one to wipe my stomach clean. He frowns the whole time, like he’s sad to see the mess he’s made go.
Then, as if I’m a rag doll, he scoops me up, wraps the dry towel around me, and carries me toward the door, bending to fetch my wet sleepwear as he goes.
“I can’t go inside in nothing but a towel,” I protest.
He holds up the ball of my wet clothes and water sluices down his arm. “You don’t have much choice, Curls.”
I glower at him, and he lets out a deep laugh.
“Don’t tell me that post-orgasmic glow is fading already.” He grips my chin. “I’ll fuck you harder next time.”
He covers my mouth with a kiss before I can retort, effectively shutting me up.
“It’s late. No one is going to see you.”
I blink at him. “Someone could be in the elevator.”
He wets his lips, but the gesture does nothing to hide his growing smile, then walks off.
I don’t follow. Fuck him if he thinks I’m going to waddle after him like a little duckling.
At a nearby table, he stops and picks up a small bundle, then he returns. “It may not be long enough, but you can wear this.”
Without waiting for a response, he pulls a giant hoodie over my head and yanks the towel from my body. The scent of the garment—the scent of him—nearly drowns me. I gulp in air. I’d be happy if I never breathe regular oxygen again.
“There,” he says as he carefully pulls my hair out. “Better?”
I’m completely naked under it, but it’s long enough to cover all the important parts and is definitely more modest than the minuscule towel.
“Thank you.”
The two words sound oddly vulnerable.
“You’re welcome.” He stares at me for a moment, a war waging behind those eyes, then, expression falling like he’s lost the war, he kisses me. It’s not rough like before. There’s no biting. It’s … sweet. Gentle. It’s a kiss meant for a person he truly cares care about.
Before I can read too much into it, he pulls away.
“Let’s go, Curls.”
He clasps my hand, the warmth of his sinking into my cool skin, and ushers me inside, where we wait in silence for the elevator.
I’d probably think tonight was a dream—or a nightmare, depending on my mood—if it weren’t for the steady presence of him at my side and his hand holding on so tightly to mine.
As we ride the elevator down in silence, I take in his profile, trying to read his thoughts. But like always, he’s a veritable vault, his true emotions and opinions locked up tight.
On our floor, we walk side by side to our room. He unlocks the door, then pushes it open gently, nodding for me to go in first.
As I cross the threshold, he releases my hand. I didn’t expect to miss his touch so quickly, but I do.
I head toward my bathroom, expecting him to go straight to the unlocked door that adjoins our rooms, but before I can get far, he grabs my elbow and spins me back to him.
I squeak as I land against his chest. “What are you—”
My whispered question is cut off when he presses his mouth to mine.
The kiss is insistent, demanding. I answer it with requests of my own, though it’s not lost on me that Maddie is asleep on the other side of the wall.
Chest rising and falling rapidly, he lets me go. His eyes flit over my face, too knowing, like he can read me like a book.
“Good night,” he whispers as he backs away.
I watch him disappear, frozen in place, holding the wad of cold, wet clothing he carried down for me. Though I want to blame the trance I’m stuck in on his whiplash behavior, the reality is that he’s kissed me into a stupor.
Finally I force a deep breath in. When his scent registers again, I have to fight the urge to bury my face in his hoodie.
Stumbling into my bathroom, I clean myself up and wring out my wet clothes. As I’m tossing them onto the pile of laundry in the corner, I realize that my underwear is missing.
That bastard.
My lips tip up on one side, even as I curse him, and I climb into my bed, wrapped in his sweatshirt.
It’s okay. He can keep them.
After all, he’s certainly not getting his hoodie back.