Chapter Thirteen
Noah: If you’re going to tease me, Sidney,
you need to expect consequences.
I’ll be over at six, be ready for me.
Is this flirting?
My stomach does a little flip as I re-read his messages, my cheeks turning hot. It feels like flirting, but it also feels like us. We’ve always had good banter, the lighthearted teasing and back and forth that can last hours, if not days. Have we been flirting this entire time?
And what the hell does he mean, be ready for him.
I almost reply but lock down my cell instead. If I keep texting him, I’ll never get these orders completed in time, and I pride myself too much on meeting my deadlines.
There is a sense of satisfaction in knowing Lauren saw that calendar invite.
I don’t know why Noah’s assistant hates me, and as someone who likes to be liked, it irked me when I first met her almost two years ago.
She smiled at me at first, asked for my name, and was kind, but as the weeks turned to months, her demeanor toward me changed.
I’ve had to handle other women in Noah’s life thinking I was something more than his best friend, and I didn’t mind it then, but now…
It isn’t hard to figure out that Lauren has a crush on Noah, one that has made her look at me like a competitor, and I’d gotten over the fact that we would never be friends.
But now Noah and I are doing things that cross the line of friendship into something more, however temporary that may be, it makes me feel a little possessive over him.
Of course, I have no claim to him; we are just friends after all, but that man has been in my vagina, I’m allowed to be a little smug about it.
Giggling and shaking my head at myself, I force my focus back to the task at hand and get going on the projects I need to finish today, only stopping a few times to serve customers who want to grab the ready-made bouquets off the shelf.
By the time five rolls around, my tasks are complete, all but one has been collected, which will now get pushed to tomorrow since the customer missed their slot, and I can lock up and head home.
I grab a bottle of wine and some chips from the store on the way and then kick off my shoes the moment my apartment door is closed behind me.
There’s a chill in the air; the city is in that awkward time between seasons, summer is ending and fall is creeping in at the edges.
The heat clings on during the day, but then the sun falls, and a chill settles.
I can’t wait for fall to be here; there’s something about the bright, crisp leaves setting fire to the trees in a mash of reds and oranges and yellows.
The bouquets I get to make throughout the season have always been some of my favorites.
Placing my purse on the kitchen counter, I strip out of my clothes, leaving a trail behind me. I’m completely naked by the time I make it to my bedroom, reaching for my lounge pants and sweater to pull on before I bundle my hair into a messy bun on top of my head and scrub my face clean of makeup.
Dragging a blanket from the base of my bed into the living room, I grab a glass and the bottle of red wine and then curl up on the couch. At just after six, the lock on my front door disengages and the hinges squeak as Noah lets himself in with his key.
He’s ditched his jacket and undone the button at his collar, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows. His eyes land on me immediately, the gray of them turning from rain clouds to thunder, darkening as his lips curl up in a smirk.
“That doesn’t look ready to me,” his head tilts.
“Ready for what, exactly?” I squirm, placing my glass down on the coffee table to give him my attention.
“Consequences,” the tap of his heel sounds across the hardwood floor, his steps purposely slow as he advances on me.
I swallow thickly, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“How was it working at that desk all day?” He asks, rounding the couch, “Could you picture me between your thighs?”
My lips roll and the lie slips out, “I was too busy.”
He chuckles darkly, “That right?”
His hand curls around the edge of the blanket and he tugs it off, throwing it onto the back of the couch. “Stand up.” He orders.
There’s no room in his tone to disobey him, so I uncurl my legs and rise, tilting my chin to keep my eyes on his. Slowly, he lifts a hand and trails a finger along my jawline and down my throat before he lowers it to the hem of my sweater.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
He flicks his eyes from his hand to my face, to my eyes, and then my lips. My heart thuds, stomach tightening as he bends forward, pressing his mouth to mine.
We really should be putting boundaries in place during whatever this is.
Kissing seems like one of those things that shouldn’t be happening.
It begs for a level of intimacy that we do not have, but I don’t say any of that as I part my lips to let his tongue in.
I angle my head, feeling his mouth turn up in a knowing grin just as his other hand dives into my hair and his fingers curl.
There’s a bite of pain before it turns to pleasure, my skin erupting in goosebumps as he tugs my head back, kissing me like he owns every part of me, body and soul.
An ache forms at the tops of my thighs and low in my abdomen, spreading to the space between my legs. It turns to a throb, hot and wet, his kiss stroking the embers, willing the fire back to life.
My muscles jump when his hand slides up and under my sweater, fingers whispering up my ribs before he cups my breast, thumb swiping over my nipple.
A breath stutters from me, but he doesn’t let me go.
He rolls his thumb over the hardened peak, teasing me, pulling me up to the top but never letting me break for air.
My nails sink into his arm, body responding to every touch, the scratch of his short facial hair, the warmth of his skin and the hardness of his cock pushing into my lower abdomen.
Noah is intense. Everything about him is, it’s hard not to fall into his orbit. I’ve always gravitated toward him, like he’s the sun in my universe, and this is no different. He pulls away and I chase, seeking his lips, his kiss, but I snap out of it when his chuckle skates over my skin.
He pulls my sweater up and over my head, throwing it behind the couch, and then steps back, his thumb moving over his bottom lip as he devours me with his eyes.
At the back of my head, I know he shouldn’t be looking at me like that.
My lips part as he drags his finger over the other nipple and then moves to the waistband of my pants, tugging them down.
My first instinct is to cover myself; the second, however, a stronger, much needier part of me has me stepping forward to cup his hard length, squeezing it just enough in my fist.
Noah stumbles, “Fuck.” He groans. “I’ve been fucking hard all day, Sidney.”
“Why?” I breathe.
“Remembering how you tasted, how you moaned for me,” he groans as I stroke my hand up and down, the material of his pants in the way, but I can make it work.
“This isn’t part of the schedule,” My teeth sink into my bottom lip, watching the pleasure pass over his face.
His jaw slackens as I continue to stroke him, working him up the exact same way he just did to me.
I am drenched. I can feel it on my inner thighs, my pussy throbbing with the need to be filled by him.
There’s something so incredibly sexy about watching him take pleasure, how his strong throat works on a swallow, how he trembles, just a little, his eyes hooded. And the idea of him filling me up, stretching me open for him to fit, of his come leaking out of me…
“Fuck,” He groans, “the schedule.”
Red flag.
I tighten my fingers, “I worked hard on that.” I tease him.
And I had, I’d gone through all my dates and then applied them going forward, searching up all the phases of my cycle, picking out the best dates that would work for us.
I, of course, understand that these kinds of things can’t be one hundred percent correct or predicted, but it certainly helps to have the estimates.
“It’s practice,” his excuse is a groan that rumbles from him, head tipping back, “Fuck Sidney, that feels good.”
I grin with pride, “You’re so hard, Noah. Are you going to say please?”
He snaps his eyes to my face, “I don’t beg.” He grinds out, “But you will.”
My hand drops away from him and I’m turned so suddenly, all I can manage is a squeak as he forces me onto my knees on the couch, my front pressing into the back cushions as his hand goes to the nape of my neck and he squeezes.
He holds me there as he palms one of my ass cheeks, his hand dipping low to swipe between my legs.
I jerk under his touch, a breathy moan slipping from my lips.
One minute I was in control, the next I wasn’t, and I have yet to figure out if I’m mad about it.
“Drenched, Sidney,” he praises, “You’re so ready for me to fill up this pretty pussy, aren’t you?”
He slowly inserts a finger, my walls immediately clamping around it, feeding the burning need that has my body fucking singing.
“Answer me,” he thrusts harder.
“Yes,” I cry out.
“Are you going to say please?” His words are whispered right by my ear, “Beg me for my cock? Beg me to fill this tight little cunt with my come?”
I clamp my lips shut.
He tuts loudly and curls his fingers, brushing up against the most sensitive spot inside me. If there were a map designed for my body, Noah has already studied it, memorized it, and is using it. How does he know?
I press my hips back into his hand, silently asking for more, but he moves away from me, taking away that pressure.
“No, wait,” I cry out and attempt to turn, but the hand on my neck doesn’t allow it.
“What was in the schedule?” He muses behind me, the swish of material sounding as he shoves at his clothes with one hand, “Ah, that’s right.”
The hand suddenly moves away from my neck, and he pulls me to stand. He’s removed his shirt and his pants are left hanging open, a feral gleam to his expression.
“Bend Sidney over.”
His mouth slams to mine and he walks us backwards toward the kitchen until I feel the kitchen counter press against my lower back.
“Turn around.” He orders.
My body trembles as I go.
“Now bend over, show me how much you want it.”
The cold marble of the counter bites into my overheated skin as I press my chest to it, skin pebbling with the cold. Noah’s hands spread me apart, and a sound, a lot like a growl, rumbles out of his chest.
The head of his cock pushes in just a little, not nearly enough to fill me, and he continues like that, only fucking me with the tip, never going deeper to satisfy me.
“Noah,” I push back, trying to force him deeper, but he is fully in control of me.
“Say please,” he growls, “Beg for it.”
“Noah,” I groan.
“Not nice, is it?” He chuckles, fingers biting into my hips, “Shouldn’t tease people, Sidney, they might just do it back.”
“Just fuck me,” I snap, so damn on edge I could cry.
“You know what you need to do,” he says, “Give me those words.”
My fingers claw at the counter, attempting to find purchase, but there is none. The cold is no longer an issue, not when I am burning up from the very core of me. I can feel a fine sheen of sweat covering my skin, my muscles quivering with every second he holds back.
“Please,” I cry out.
“Please, what?”
“Please fuck me. I want your cock, Noah. Please.”
“Good fucking girl,” He rewards me by slamming forward, filling me with the entirety of him. I feel him everywhere, stretching me open, filling me up so far, I can’t tell where he ends and I begin.
And then he fucks me. Fucks me the way I needed, the way I wanted.
Thrusting his hips, jolting my body against the counter as our skin slaps together and his fingers tighten, forcing me to remain at his mercy.
It’s hard, and it’s rough, reward and punishment.
Vaguely I am aware of the sounds I am making, the cries and the moans, the way his cock sounds against the wetness soaking me between my legs.
“More,” I beg.
He says nothing, but he gives me exactly what I want.
He releases my hips, and one hand slips beneath my thigh, forcing it up until my knee is resting on the very edge of the counter, and I have to push up onto my toes to keep my balance.
His other hand slips into my hair, his grip tightening to force my head back, neck bending to expose my throat.
The bite of pain against my scalp is enough to turn that pleasure into an inferno.
He keeps the weight of my thigh in his hand as he continues to fuck me, thrusts sure and deep, pushing me higher and higher. It feels too fucking good.
So good I never want him to stop. I’ve never known pleasure like Noah Calahan.
“God,” I cry, “Don’t stop.”
“Whatever you want,” he rasps, voice wavering.
All my muscles tense, growing tight as he fucks me to orgasm. There’s no stopping it when it finally hits, sending me hurtling over the edge and into a sky full of stars. They burst behind my eyes, forcing my body to shatter. I cry out his name as I fall, giving myself over to him.
“Goddamn,” he groans before he follows right behind me.