Chapter Six #2
I spin slowly through the foam, damp hair sticking to my shoulders while bubbles cling to my chest and thighs beneath the strobing lights.
And there he is.
Noir.
Dressed head-to-toe in black despite the heat, sleeveless shirt stretched tight across tattooed arms while silver jewelry catches flashes of neon every time the lights hit him. Bleached hair messy from the humidity.
Rings glinting against the hands still locked possessively around my waist.
He looks completely out of place in the bright chaos around him.
Too sharp and dark.
Like somebody dragged a thunderstorm directly into a rave.
His eyes lock onto mine instantly.
Cold gray-blue and intense enough to make my pulse stumble hard in my chest.
Jesus Christ.
The man really does stare at people like he’s deciding whether to kiss them or ruin their life.
When it comes to me, it’s usually both.
His hands stay locked on my waist while foam swirls around us.
I grin immediately.
Coy, and mischievous.
Absolutely zero survival instincts remaining.
“Well,” I shout over the music, dragging my hands slowly up his chest, fingertips catching briefly on the chain around his neck. “I figured Dagger probably called you the second he realized I left.”
Noir’s jaw tightens immediately.
“You shouldn’t have fucking left.”
I laugh breathlessly at that, foam swirling around our legs while lights flash violently across his face.
“Oh my god,” I grin. “You two are unbelievable.”
His hands flex harder against my waist.
“You think this is funny?”
“I think,” I say, stepping closer until my chest presses against his, “it’s interesting hearing that from the people who spent months trying to convince me none of this was real.”
That lands exactly how I want it to.
His expression hardens instantly.
“You know why we did that.”
“Yeah,” I shoot back. “Because you wanted me gone.”
“We wanted you safe.”
“Mm.” I tilt my head innocently. “Very touching. Truly. Love the commitment to the psychological warfare.”
“Blair—”
“No seriously,” I cut him off, smiling even while something sharp twists low in my chest. “You’re so pissed off I left Dagger’s apartment this morning.”
His eyes darken immediately at Dagger’s name.
Got him.
“But what?” I tease over the bass, dragging my nails lightly down his chest while foam clings to both of us. “I was supposed to stay there? In his bed while he kept fucking me. Over and over.”
Jealousy flickers across Noir’s face before he buries it again.
Too late though.
I saw it.
Tiny victory for me.
“You’re playing games,” he mutters.
“Maybe. But we both know you like it. After all you’re still touching me.”
That shuts him up for half a second.
Because he knows I’m right. His hands are still locked onto my waist like he physically can’t let go, eyes dragging over me with the same dark intensity they always have.
Possessive and hungry.
Conflicted in a way that somehow makes him hotter.
Which feels deeply unfair to me personally.
The music drops heavier around us, bass shaking violently through the foam-covered crowd while bodies slam and grind together in every direction.
Noir’s attention keeps shifting over my shoulder, scanning the shoreline, the exits, the people moving through the chaos.
Still paranoid and looking for danger.
But every time my hips roll against his, his focus slips a little more.
And judging by the way his grip keeps tightening?
He hates that I know it.
So naturally, I make another terrible decision.
I let my hand slide slowly between us, fingers dragging down his stomach before curling around him through his foam covered jeans.
And oh, hes hard.
Throbbing beneath my palm hard enough to make heat twist low in my stomach immediately.
Noir’s head drops forward for half a second while a rough breath leaves him against my neck.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Blair.”
I grin against his throat, squeezing lightly just to feel his breathing hitch harder.
“What?” I tease sweetly. “You looked stressed.”
“You are the cause of my fucking stress, little addict.”
“Mm.” I grind back against him slowly, watching his jaw tighten while my hand stays wrapped around him through his jeans. “Maybe. But let’s not act like you aren’t completely addicted to the problem.”
His eyes darken instantly.
And because apparently self-preservation is officially dead tonight, I grab his wrist and drag his hand lower between my thighs while the foam swirls around us.
The second his palm presses against the soaked fabric clinging to my body, his breathing catches hard.
“Oh,” I murmur sweetly against his ear. “There it is.”
His fingers flex instinctively, feeling exactly how wet I am through the material while my hips roll slowly against his hand.
“Fuck,” he mutters roughly.
“Yeah,” I breathe. “Kinda what happens when emotionally unstable tattooed men keep looking at me like that.”
That does it.
I literally feel the control snap inside him.
His hand tightens hard enough against me to pull a gasp out of my throat while his forehead drops briefly against my shoulder like he’s trying to hold himself together.
Then suddenly he’s moving.
Dragging me deeper into the foam.
Away from the lights and the crowd while bubbles swirl thick around us and people dance blindly nearby completely unaware of what’s happening.
“Noir—”
“Come here, princess,” he mutters darkly.
I gasp as he suddenly drops to his knees, lower into the foam, pale hair already damp and messy beneath the flashing lights while his hands slide up my thighs possessively.
“Oh god—”
My voice cracks the second he hooks his fingers into the sides of my sheer pink panties and drags them aside slowly.
The look he gives me after that?
Sweet Jesus.
Grey eyes fixed between my thighs like he’s been starving for this.
Which feels deeply unfair considering I’m currently standing in a foam pit dressed like a glittery bad decision and somehow still pulling this kind of reaction out of him.
The foam swirls thick around us while bass pounds violently through the beach, people dancing blindly nearby completely oblivious to the fact I’m seconds away from losing my mind in the middle of this crowd.
Then Noir flattens his tongue against me in one slow drag.
And oh my fuck.
The contrast nearly kills me instantly.
Cold foam. Hot mouth.
The rough pressure of his tongue sliding through slick heat while his rings bite into my thighs hard enough to leave marks.
A broken sound catches in my throat before I can stop it.
Noir’s eyes flick up to mine immediately, pale hair falling messily across his forehead while foam clings to the sharp line of his jaw.
“Fuck, you taste so sweet,” he mutters roughly against my skin. “So fucking addictive.”
Well.
That does something catastrophic to my nervous system.
My fingers tangle instantly into his light hair, gripping hard enough to pull another rough sound out of him while the bass shakes violently beneath us.
“This is probably the worst decision I’ve ever made,” I breathe.
Then his tongue circles my clit again and my head falls back immediately.
“Actually no,” I gasp. “Never mind. Top five maybe.”
Noir’s mouth twitches slightly against me like he’s trying not to laugh and it nearly makes my legs buckle.
Cocky asshole.
“That’s it,” he mutters darkly. “Keep fucking shaking for me.”
One of his hands slides higher slowly before two fingers press inside me without warning.
I gasp sharply, hips jerking while the stretch and pressure hit all at once.
“Fuck—”
The bass swallows most of the sound immediately.
He curls his fingers slowly inside me while his mouth keeps working against me relentlessly, switching between rough sucks, sharp flicks of his tongue, and slow flat strokes that drag over every sensitive nerve hard enough to leave my thighs trembling harder every second.
The entire world starts blurring around the edges.
Foam, music, heat and his mouth.
The drugs still buzzing beneath my skin twist together with the sensation until I genuinely can’t tell where the high ends and he begins anymore.
A bit concerning, but also kind of amazing.
“So funny pretty,” he mutters against me again, voice rough enough to vibrate straight through my body. “Come apart for me.”
My hand tightens painfully in his hair while my hips grind helplessly against his mouth.
“Like that,” I gasp. “Fuck—Noir—”
He groans softly against me at hearing his name like that, fingers thrusting deeper while his tongue moves faster.
And then I break.
Hard.
The orgasm crashes through me violently enough to leave my knees shaking while my head falls back, foam and lights and music dissolving together around me completely.
Noir doesn’t stop immediately either.
He keeps working me through it slower now, dragging every pulse out until I’m trembling and breathless above him.
Which honestly feels greedy.
Hot as fuck.
But greedy.
Finally, he pulls back.
Foam clings to his jaw and throat while he slowly drags his fingers from inside me, bringing them to his mouth without taking his eyes off mine.
The look on his face while he licks them clean almost knocks the air out of me all over again.
Okay Blair.
Maybe stop letting emotionally unstable tattooed men ruin your life just because they look hot covered in foam and bad intentions.
Actually no.
Too late for that probably.
He fixes my panties then stands slowly to his full height, one hand gripping my waist hard enough to steady me when my legs wobble beneath the foam-covered water.
And judging by the dark look still sitting in his eyes?
He’s nowhere near done with me.
I blink hard.
And that’s when I see him.
Standing just outside the foam.
Dark clothes.
Still.
Watching.
The same guy from earlier.
My stomach drops instantly.
The tension must hit my body before my brain fully catches up because Noir notices immediately. His head snaps up fast, eyes following my line of sight through the crowd.
And the second he sees the man—
Everything changes.
“Fuck.”
One arm wrapping tight around my waist while his free hand yanks his phone from his pocket.
That’s one of Dante’s guys,” he mutters harshly, already dialing. “Shit.”
The music suddenly feels too loud.
The lights too bright.
My pulse stumbles strangely inside my chest.
“Noir—”
My voice comes out wrong.
Weak.
The foam around us starts tilting sideways.
Or maybe I am.
“Dagger,” Noir snaps into the phone immediately. “They spotted her. We need to—”
The rest cuts off into static.
My knees buckle hard beneath me.
“Blair.”
His arms catch me instantly.
The crowd blurs.
Lights smear.
Bass pounds somewhere very far away while Noir’s voice turns sharp and panicked above me.
And then everything goes black.