Chapter 11
Emma
I had a dilemma.I was home in my apartment in my bra and underwear, sorting through my closet. Noah was going to be here in half an hour, and for the first time in my life I wasn’t sure what to wear.
My work clothes were out of the question. I didn’t want to dress up, because we weren’t going out on a date. I didn’t want to wear anything that looked like pajamas, because that was too sloppy. And if Noah thought I was going to wear sexy lingerie for this particular seduction, he was in for a disappointment.
It wasn’t that I didn’t own sexy lingerie. I did. But I looked extra hot when I wore it, and a man had to earn that shit. And I’d never yet found the man who had.
I blew out a breath and settled on a fitted T-shirt and linen pants. I left my hair down around my shoulders and wiped off my work makeup. There. This was the real me, what I really looked like without any glamour. I looked decent, but not like I was trying too hard. Hit me with your best shot, Pearson.
He buzzed up as I was pulling a bottle of wine from my fridge. I told myself I wasn’t nervous.
He came through the door a minute later, still wearing that green sweater that outlined his perfect torso beneath a leather jacket. He brought a waft of brisk New York air with him and the corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled. “Nice place,” he said.
He was carrying a bag over his shoulder, and for a second I thought it was an overnight bag. “You’re not planning to spend the night, are you?”
His eyebrows went up. “Do I seem like a spend-the-night guy to you?”
No. Of course not. That wasn’t what this was. This was a challenge, the Make Emma Come challenge. Which, yet again, I had the sudden terror that he was going to fail.
The fear must have shown on my face, because Noah let his bag thump down on the sofa and said, “Relax and pour me some of that wine. I’ve got work to do.”
I couldn’t help it—I laughed. And I poured us each a big glass.
“Are you making fun of me?” Noah asked as I handed his glass to him.
“No. I’m laughing at how absurd this entire situation is.” I was thirty-one years old, and I couldn’t come. For God’s sake. It was either laugh or cry.
“My entire life is absurd situations,” he said. “I’m used to them.”
I wondered what that meant. I didn’t know much about Noah’s life except for a few basics. I didn’t know what absurd situations he was talking about. But I looked at his tall, masculine gorgeousness, overpowering my apartment and making my pulse speed up, and I knew this wasn’t time for our autobiographies.
I’d forgotten, in the few hours that we were physically apart, the effect Noah had on me. He leaned one hip against my kitchen counter, his gaze fixed on me with frank appreciation he didn’t try to hide, and I didn’t want to laugh anymore. All I could think of was the feel of his mouth between my legs, the way his hands had rested on my thighs, pushing them apart.
“What are you thinking?” he asked me.
My voice came out husky, my words honest. “I’m picturing you naked.”
He liked that. His gaze darkened and moved over me again. “I’m returning the favor.”
Touch me, I wanted to say, because suddenly I was craving it. My Tinder dates were about sex, but truth be told, there wasn’t much touching. Enough to get both of us ready, and then bang. Followed, of course, by disappointment. And me going home alone.
But it was time to admit that the idea of Noah touching me was making me a little bit crazy. He had a physical effect on me—just standing there, two feet away—that no other man ever had. I wanted him. I simply did. And no matter what happened when it came to an orgasm, I knew this had been the right decision.
Noah put his glass down and came toward me. For a second I thought he might kiss me, but instead he put his hands on my waist and pressed, showing me what he wanted me to do. “Turn around,” he said.
I turned so that my back was to him. Now I had a line of electric awareness down my spine, from the back of my neck all the way down. I could feel his presence behind me, and he was so close that I could catch a drift of his warmth and his smell. I could hear the sound of him breathing.
He lifted the hem of my T-shirt and put his hands on the small of my back, running them upward over my bare skin beneath the cotton. I sucked in a breath.
His palms were warm, his touch sure. He moved his hands up my back as my skin tingled. When he came across the obstacle of my bra clasp, his fingers snapped it undone in a quick second, and his hands continued their exploration, up over my shoulder blades and to the center of my back. My skin was flushing hot, my nipples going hard. I put my own glass down and put a hand on the counter to keep my balance.
Behind me, Noah moved closer, so I could feel the brush of his clothes against my back. He lowered his head so I could feel his breath on my skin. “You,” he said in a low voice, “have the sexiest body of any woman I’ve ever seen.”
I let out a low sound that might have been agreement or argument—I had no idea. I didn’t have a sexpot body. I was an A-cup girl. I definitely didn’t have the fake Hollywood tits Noah was undoubtedly used to, but he didn’t seem to mind. His hands moved from my back to my front, cupping my breasts beneath my shirt and my loosened bra.
It felt good—incredibly good—but I wanted to see it. I tugged my shirt off and dropped the bra to the floor and leaned back into him, looking down at his gorgeous hands as they moved over my skin. His mouth dropped to the skin at the juncture of my neck and my shoulder, sucking softly as his fingers moved over my nipples.
“Jesus, Noah,” I said, my voice ragged. “Get inside me already.”
“Believe me, I’m going there,” he said against my skin. “I’m going to fuck you just like you want it, until you beg. But we’re going to do this my way.”
I didn’t usually let a man take charge during sex. Most of them were so bad at it, honestly. Let a man run things, and the whole thing would last ten minutes, with a finger poking somewhere you don’t want it and his tongue in your mouth at the wrong time. I knew how to please myself, so I liked to take charge.
Then again, that hadn’t been working for me, had it?
And Noah was a far cry from one of my usual one-and-done guys. He already had me hot with just his hands on my nipples. Part of me could protest at the idea of giving up control, but in fact I was willing to go wherever Noah was going to take me.
Still, I leaned back against him and dragged my palm over the front of his jeans. I could feel how hard he was already, and I slid my hand over him without mercy. “I know how to do a few things,” I said.
“And you’re going to do them.” His voice was harsh, and he didn’t pull away from my hand. He pushed into me a little, coaxing me to please him, which made a new flush of heat travel over my body. “But I have some things planned first. Come with me.”
He took my hand and led me to the bedroom. It was completely backward—Noah, who had never been here, leading me into my own bedroom in my own apartment—but I found I was thrilled by it. He scooped up his bag on the way, and when we got to the bedroom, he motioned for me to sit on the edge of the bed.
I sat, topless, my nipples hard, my hands bracing on the bed. Noah looked at me appreciatively as he unzipped the bag. He took out a black square of silk and stepped forward, tying it around my head. A blindfold.
“You’re into kink?” I asked, surprised. I hadn’t had him pegged as the kinky type. Then again, with that body of his, I would be up for anything.
He laughed softly, and I had to picture it in the darkness behind my eyes. “Are you?” he asked.
“I’ve never tried it, but—oh.” Now he had lifted my hands and had put them behind my back. He was winding some kind of soft cloth around my wrists, tied gently enough that it didn’t hurt. “So you are into kink.”
“I think anyone who is actually into kink would classify this as adorably mild,” Noah said. In the darkness, his voice flowed over me, my response to it more prominent because I couldn’t see him. “This is as far as I go, I promise.”
I tried to sound casual, even though the blindfold and the way my hands were suddenly incapacitated was surprising and exciting, making my pussy throb harder between my legs. “Good, because I don’t have a desire for nipple clamps.”
“I don’t have any. Lift your hips.”
His hands were at the button of my pants, the backs of his fingers brushing my skin as he unfastened them. I maneuvered and lifted my hips so he could pull them off me. It was a pose that was briefly awkward, but when he slid the fabric off my legs I felt wildly exposed. I was naked except for my panties, and I couldn’t see Noah. I couldn’t see his reaction, the look in his eyes. I didn’t know if he was looking at me. I had to use sound to guess that he was even still in the room.
There was a shuffling sound, the sound of fabric moving. The thump of Noah’s shoes coming off. For the first time in this little adventure, I complained. “No,” I said. “I want to see you.”
“You will,” he said roughly.
His undressing continued, and I pouted. Damn it, I was missing seeing Noah naked. There went his jeans. I wanted the blindfold off, but my hands were tied. I pressed my knees together impatiently. “Noah, are you naked?”
“Yes, I am.” Another pause. “And now I’m stroking my cock.”
And just like that, I was on fire.
Damn it, I couldn’t see anything. But I could picture it. That tall, lean body, those gorgeous hands. The look in his eyes. He was looking at me, watching while he stroked himself. I knew it.
I had never done anything like this before. Never felt this hot and wild for someone, like if something didn’t happen soon I would lose my mind.
“Let me see,” I said, begging him. “Please.”
“I have a better idea,” Noah’s whiskey voice said, breaking through the sound of my blood pounding in my ears. “Get on your knees.”