Chapter Six Goldie
Chapter Six
Goldie
Noah’s back hits the door with enough force to knock the wind out of him, but he’s completely unfazed as he cradles my face, our mouths doing their level best to exhaust us.
We haven’t stopped kissing since his bike pulled into his driveway. It was like the universe rang the sexy-time dinner bell and we were starved.
“Sorry,” I say, floating between excited laughter and lustful impatience as we bump faces awkwardly when he tries to reach behind him to open his front door.
“Keys,” he mumbles against my lips, urging me to help him.
We’re fumbling and shoving our hands into all his pockets, trying to get his damn door open, completely out of breath from our refusal to stop kissing.
But we just can’t stop.
“Oh my god,” I groan as he grabs the back of my neck, keys forgotten, only lips remembered. “Just bust it open.”
My plea is accompanied by the sound of his key sliding into the lock.
Thank god.
Noah spins me as the door opens, backing me up into his house before kicking the door shut behind him. I don’t know whose clothes come off first, but we’re immediately clawing at each other.
Our jackets thud as they hit the floor. My bottom presses to the top of the couch as we toe off our shoes. And my purse is flung onto the couch as his belt’s whipped off with a snap.
He chuckles as my shoulders jump, and I do the same into his lips.
We’re feral. But a week in your thirties once you’ve met someone is like dog years, so a month is tantamount to starvation.
We kiss sloppily, pulling away and diving back in as we make our way through the living room. I only risk breaking it to look down, trying to find the right buttons on my shirt to start with, but as I lift my eyes, Noah’s mid-drag, his shirt sliding over his head.
Sweet Jesus. My mouth goes dry.
His hair’s messy and possibly even more sexy than it was before, and his eyes are shining even bluer. I’ve spent weeks wondering what he’d look like when we got here, and it’s exceeding all my expectations.
I’m walking backward, not knowing if I’m about to run into anything, as I stay fixated on every groove of his abs and defined muscle on his chest. The tattoos that start on his neck are deliciously painted down over his chest and his arms, even covering his twelve-pack.
In fact, they go all the way down over the V on his lower stomach, disappearing beneath the tops of his jeans.
It’s like a gorgeous sheet of armor, forcing me to stare at the precision by which he’s been sculpted.
He unbuttons his jeans with one hand before unzipping and shoving them down his muscular thighs, stepping out.
“You’re beautiful,” I say, feeling even more breathless as I reach the last button on my shirt, letting it fall.
He’s stalking toward me, faster than each of my steps, his jaw slack and his gaze boring into mine.
“Bed, floor, or counter.”
He delivers those three words with an indecent amount of gravel in his voice, and I shiver, forgetting everything I was doing, half blinking and feeling heady, unable to answer.
Noah closes the distance, snaking out his hand and removing mine from my waistband gently. His words feel less so.
“Uh-uh. Get off. That’s for me.”
His fingertips tickle my skin slowly before he curls them just inside the top of my jeans, jerking me forward.
I gasp, then smile, biting my bottom lip as he tugs me closer with a hiss sucked in between his teeth, his eyes landing on the swells of my breasts.
They’re still half hidden by black lace.
I’m mesmerized by his tongue, staring as it darts out, swiping the most seductive path across his bottom lip before he draws it between his teeth and lets it glide out slowly.
The room suddenly feels quieter, the desperation we felt earlier replaced with his intention: Noah wants to savor this.
His voice lowers to that quiet, sexy baritone I’ve come to wish for when we’re on FaceTime late at night.
“I haven’t slept with anyone in over six months. I’m good to go. Ask and I’ll show you the results.”
“Okay . . . yeah, no. Me either . . . or me too . . .” All my words are jumbled and impossibly affected by him, so I giggle before correcting myself. “What I mean is that I’m good to go too. And I haven’t slept with anyone in forever.”
The top button of my jeans pops, making my shoulders tense in surprise before goose bumps bloom over my soft tummy. Noah’s staring down at me, the ghost of a smirk on his face as his fingers pinch the zipper. And then, almost sadistically, he slowly lowers it.
The rip of the metal fills the space, crackling like the energy dancing between us.
“Are you on the pill?”
I never thought in a million years that someone could make those particular five words sound so inviting and sexy. Words won’t come out of my mouth because my pulse is pounding everywhere. And I mean everywhere.
Noah’s hands lift from the front of my jeans to my hips, his palms sliding over my skin before he tucks his fingers inside my jeans, guiding them off my body. His eyes never leave mine as he does it.
My chest rises and falls quickly as he dips his middle fingers under my thong, dragging those down too.
“Goldie . . .”
The way he pauses after my name makes me close my eyes so I can concentrate on every sexy syllable about to come out next.
“Killer, if you let me, I’d like to die inside you tonight.
Bare. Because all I can think about is how I want your cum all over my cock.
” He kisses my mouth just as I feel the air hit my exposed center.
My eyes spring open, fixed to his as he fucks me with only words.
“Would you like that, baby? My bare cock inside your cunt?”
My eyes follow him, watching as he lowers himself to the floor along with my clothes, kneeling in front of me. He lifts his chin to look at me, and it’s so striking in the moonlit room that there’s only one answer to give.
“So much yes . . .” I swallow. “And yeah, I’m on the pill.”
My eyes flutter back as I feel the warmth of his breath tickling, then cooling the wetness shining over the soft tuft of hair on my pussy.
“Fuck, that’s sexy,” he whispers.
Noah’s face plunges forward as he palms my round ass, running his tongue over my clit like we’re sharing a kiss.
I suck in a harsh breath, instinctually gripping his hair and holding his head as I’m gorgeously assaulted.
My stomach contracts as he eats me, forcing me to hunch over a little, unable to control myself.
“Oh god. Fuck.”
He switches to kissing me gently, growling as he does, his tongue laving over my clit and around it, devouring the evidence of my lust. Holy hell, this man knows how to eat. It’s like he’s sharing what he does to my mouth with my pussy.
Noah doesn’t just want to fuck me. He wants to leave his mark in every way.
And it’s working. The bar has been reset.
“Noah, I don’t think I can take it. It’s too much,” I pant, my legs barely able to keep me up.
He hums, enjoying me, making me buckle. But instead of falling, I’m held up as his arm wraps around my hips, keeping me in place. He swirls pressured figure eights, manipulating and flicking my swelling clit before sucking, then letting it go with a pop as he tears his face away to stare up at me.
I shudder, mid-groan, and my hands fall to his cheeks as broken heaves of breath leave my lungs.
“You’re too good at that.”
“Not my fault you taste so fucking good on my tongue.”
To prove the point, he licks the light sheen of my lust coating his lips, and it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
“Step out,” he directs, motioning his head to my pants pooled at my feet.
I obey as his palms run up and down my waist while burning kisses into my stomach. Is this too early to call it as the best sex I’ve ever had?
Noah stands, and my eyes provocatively drop to the bulge protruding from his boxer briefs. The entire imprint of his impressive length shows, and apparently, the energy Noah gives off is honest. He has a very big dick.
Nope. Not too early.
All I can think is that I want to feel him. Everywhere.
His shoulders draw in as he runs his hand up and down the outside of his underwear over his shaft, letting out a sexy grunt, eyes closed for a moment like he’s desperate for a little release. Some friction to relieve the same white-hot need I feel too.
“You never answered my first question,” he levels, his gaze blazing back to mine as his hands find my waist.
Question?
I’m led backward again, this time at Noah’s pace.
First, through the kitchen, his head motioning to the counter before he raises his eyebrows, then says, “Or,” looking down at the floor.
We don’t stop, still moving backward, turning down a hallway before one of his hands lets go of my waist and slaps the door of his bedroom open.
“Or?”
. . . bed, floor, or counter.
“All three,” I rush out.
I’m immediately lifted as our mouths seal together with abandon. Wet, rough kisses lead the charge as he carries me to the bed. The moment I hit the soft mattress, my legs never unhooking from around his waist, I grind my core against his rigid length and let out a moan at the same time.
His large hands slide up my forearms, roughly gripping my wrists, holding them in place above my head as his lips leave mine, beginning an assault on my jaw, leading down to the crook of my neck.
“Noah . . . that feels so good.”
He grinds into me again as my legs squeeze tighter. The friction between our bodies makes my thoughts fuzzy. I feel him bite my neck before he gently runs his tongue over the spot and sucks.
I gasp, arching against his heavy body, writhing under his touch.
Because he’s somehow pressing all the right buttons.
Buttons I didn’t even know I had. I’ve never been the kind of girl who sleeps with a guy for the first time and lets him give me a hickey.
But somehow, with Noah, I’d let him mark up my whole body in anticipation of the pleasure I know he’ll give me.