Chapter 36 - Noelle
THIRTY-SIX
NOELLE
“Stress! It’s not fucking stress. It’s love.”
I push my finger into his chest, and he grabs my wrist, holding me in place.
Every breath is weighted as our eyes collide.
Suddenly, he rips his shirt over his head and puts my hand over his inked heart.
“Don’t you understand how much I love you?
That’s why I don’t want to be a burden. I should be protecting you,” he says, his voice raw and rough.
My thoughts are tornadic. One, I need to be physical with him, intimate with him. Two, I need to make him understand that trying to find a kidney for him isn’t a burden. He would go to the ends of the earth to find one for me, so why can’t he accept help?
First things first. I make record time getting his clothes off and fall to my knees, sucking him into my mouth.
He groans with pleasure, like he needs to prove that he’s still a man.
Because, God, he is. His body is perfection, and his shaft is hard and thick yet softer than a rose petal.
I swirl my tongue over the tip and can feel his blood pumping.
He rattles off my name, stretching it out at times.
“Yeah, Butterfly. So good.” I lick and suck and do all the things he taught me until I feel his cock jerk in my mouth.
He pistons his hips and pumps into me, filling me.
His body releases all the pent-up tension from his muscles and, hopefully, his mind.
I stand up, fully clothed, and he’s butt-naked. We usually start the other way around. “Thank you for letting me love you,” I say with a smile as I pull off my shirt.
“I don’t think you’re giving me a choice.” Matt wears a sly smirk, his lids still lazy from his orgasm.
“No, I’m not.”
My gaze drops to the rubber band barely keeping my jeans closed. I’m in that awkward in-between phase—too big for my old clothes, not quite ready for maternity wear. I slide them down, and I’m left in a tiny thong and a bra that can’t keep up with my growing chest.
“Butterfly, your body gets more beautiful each day.” His tongue swipes over his plump bottom lip. His eyes darken as he spins me around, caressing my ass. “Goddamn. You should be pregnant all the time. Fucking perfection.”
“You got a breeding kink, Coach.”
“You want a coach?” he says.
I glance over my shoulder, flinging my hair, relentlessly teasing him. “Can you still coach? Is there anything more for me to learn?”
“Oh, there’s more.” He sucks on my neck, then strides into the kitchen and back in record time, holding a bottle of olive oil and a bag of salt flakes. He takes my bra off and commands, “Lay down on the rug.”
I do.
His body is heavy on mine, but he lifts his lower abs so as not to pressure my belly. I keep telling him it’s fine until my belly grows, but he’s always thinking of me. Even with our fight, his thoughts were of me.
“What’s the olive oil for?” I ask.
He doesn’t answer, continuing to trail wet kisses along my neck and boobs. They’re so needy, practically screaming for him to bite them. As if he knows what’s running through my mind, he says, “Tell me what you want, Butterfly.”
“Bite them. I want pressure.”
I feel his lips smile on my skin, and he takes my nipple into his mouth, nibbling, grazing, and then biting. I scream. He stops. “I’m drawing up a new play. What should I call it?”
He pours olive oil on my chest and then sprinkles salt on my boobs like he’s seasoning his dinner. His head dips, licking the salt off my drawn-up nipples. The slide of his tongue. The sound of his swallow. Perfect. Erotic.
After he’s spread the oil between us, he commands, “Show me how wet you are.”
My fingers roam to my center, moving up and down. Slow, then fast.
“How does touching yourself make you feel?” he asks as he drives his fingers inside me.
The air in my lungs feels heavy. There’s not enough of it. “I… I… feel like a beautiful butterfly.”
“You are a beautiful butterfly. Knees parted on the floor. The flush on your face. Sweat dotting your body like spots on a butterfly’s wings. Finally, you see it.”
My center throbs with need as he teases me, keeping me on the edge. “I want more,” I cry out.
“More fingers?”
“I want you inside me. I want you to be relentless.” I can’t believe the words slip from my mouth. Who am I? I’m carrying a baby, but these hormones are out of control, and I can’t stop a runaway train. Better to give in to my feelings.
Matt spreads my legs and bites my bundle of nerves. It’s electric and painful yet pleasurable.
But it’s still not enough. “More.”
He crawls back up my body, kissing me roughly, and growls, “Get on all fours.”
“What are you going to do to me?” I lift onto my elbows.
“Ruin you for any other man.” He kisses me hard and rough. Urgent and ravenous.
“You already have.”
My body goes into orgasm mode immediately. It’s a mix of his raw, penetrating words, his body, and the anticipation. I roll over. “I don’t want to ruin the rug with this oil.”
“Fuck the rug. I’ll buy ten more if I can be inside you every night like this.”
Suddenly, I feel more oil on my back as he smooths it on my ass cheeks, slides his finger through my folds, then slaps my ass—not hard, but still, I want it harder. “More.”
“More is different than harder. Which or both?”
Breathless, I say, “Both.”
Who am I with this man?
A woman finding herself. That’s who I am.
He gives a firm, heavier slap to my skin and then rubs the oil in. I’m dripping wet, and I want him to see just how much he turns me on, so I arch my back with my butt in the air, taunting him. I want it all.
“Fuck.” He devours me from behind, and it feels amazing. My body is shaking, and I can’t take much more. “This might hurt, but once we get the angle right, you’re going to want it this way every time.”
I can’t breathe. I’m caught between pain and euphoric bliss as he pushes in at a snail’s pace.
The whole time, he caresses my butt and lower back with one hand and holds my hip with the other.
He’s not all the way in because our skin isn’t touching.
It feels like a two-by-four between my legs. So why does it feel so good?
Because Matt Stricker is the love of my life. Pain or pleasure. Happy or sad. We belong together.
Matt sinks deeper inside me. His passionate urging rattles me to the bone. I want more, but I feel like I’m popping stitches where I don’t have any.
“You fucking feel amazing. Relax. Spread your wings.” He wraps my hair around his fist, tugging my head back as he is fully seated inside me. He feels larger than he’s ever been. The width is almost too much as he plunges into me. I’m filled with his body and his love.
My lips quiver and my legs quake as he fucks me into oblivion and then tops it off by pressing his finger against my do not touch hole.
Not inside. Just pressure.
How can this feel so intimate when I can’t even see his face?
Then I learn what happens when you block both release points—an eruption.
White-hot awareness shatters through me.
My vision explodes into a galaxy of shooting stars, bright colors, and then peace.
My body slacks a little, but he’s not finished.
Matt puts his strong forearm underneath my gently formed belly, holding my ass and belly up, stretching out over my back and making long, lustful strokes. Loving me with purpose.
I don’t know if it’s my sweaty hair sticking to my face or Matt’s body sliding on mine, but it’s all-consuming. He makes sure I have another orgasm, and how could I not when he whispers how much he loves me, my body, and our baby while making me feel like the only woman alive?
“Yes, yes. Please. I never want this to end.”
His body goes rigid, but he keeps pumping his cock, his fingers attentive to my swollen clit, trying to make it last. Then he pulls out, an erotic growl coming from his mouth, spurting his happy juice all over my back, mixing with the oil.
Matt covers my body with his while keeping my belly slightly off the floor, his chest on my shoulder blades. With his mouth on my shoulder, he mumbles, almost inaudibly, “Me either.”