Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Novalee
We pull up to my building, and as I slide off the bike, my body immediately feels lighter, like I’ve shed a layer of heaviness. Hottie is quick to follow, looking at me as he helps pull off my helmet, something unspoken passing between us.
I lead him up the stairs, and we finally enter my apartment. The familiar scent of candy-scented candles and my mess of glitter-covered-everything greeting us instead of the desolation I was anticipating.
I shrug out of my hoodie, tossing it onto the pink couch as Hottie surveys the room with that curious smile of his. “Want anything?”
Instead of replying, he steps closer, his hands landing on my thighs with a firm but gentle grip. Before I know it, he’s hoisting me up, and my breath catches as I wrap my legs around his waist while my hands grip the back of his neck.
His eyes lock onto mine, intense yet not as if he’s holding back just enough to keep me from bolting. “I don’t want anything except to go back to where we left off,” he murmurs, sending a shiver down my spine .
My throat tightens as I swallow hard, and the warmth of his body seeps into mine as he walks us toward my bedroom. I don’t know what’s scarier—the way he looks at me like I’m something more or how much I want to let him. “And this time…” he continues. “You tell me your triggers.”
“I don’t have any triggers,” I lie, the words feeling flimsy even as they leave my lips.
“Sure.” He chuckles again, his eyes skeptical as he nudges the door open with his foot. “Could’ve fooled me.” The door clicks shut behind us, and the tension in the air thickens as he carries me to the bed and lays me down. Hovering over me, his breath warm against my skin, he asks, “So, just no weed?” His lips brush against my ear as his thumb strokes my cheek. “Nothing else I need to be careful about?”
I hesitate for a moment, and he leans back to watch me, the weight of his gaze making it harder to breathe. It probably would be better to open up the tiniest bit to make sure I’m not setting us both up for a disaster again. “Maybe stay clear of the tattoo,” I whisper back.
His eyes widen the slightest bit, like he’s piecing together something important, though I’m sure he knows shit. Still, there’s a flicker of understanding in his gaze. He leans down again, his lips ghosting over mine in a short peck. “No problem,” he murmurs. “Any other hands-off zones?”
“Nope.” I push him back a little to pull off my cami and toss it aside, realizing I’ve still got the pasties stuck to my nipples. “The rest are all hands-on zones.”
I rip off the pasties, wincing at the sting, but before I can even react, his hands are there, his thumbs stroking over my nipples, soothing the brief burn. “Shh,” he whispers, his tone laced with amusement as he leans down, his breath hot against my skin. “Why are you so brutal to your beautiful tits?”
A soft moan escapes me as his lips close around one nipple, and I lean back, my hands bracing against the bed for support, every nerve in my body lighting up under his touch.
My head tilts back, and a shiver runs down my spine as his tongue flicks over the sensitive bud, drawing gasps that I can’t hold back. The pull of his mouth and graze of his teeth are all-consuming, sending waves of heat coursing through me until my body arches into him, craving more.
His hands are everywhere, his thumbs stroking circles that leave a trail of fire in their wake. My breathing quickens, ragged and shallow, and when he switches to the other nipple, his lips brushing and teasing, my fingers curl into the sheets, desperate for something to hold onto.
I lose myself in the moment, in the heat of his touch, in the way he takes his time as if savoring every inch of me. His hands slide lower, tracing over my ribs and waist, making my head spin, and I’m drunk on the sensation. And when he finally pushes me down, hovering his weight over me, my heart stutters.
His fingers hook into the waistband of my jeans, distinctly avoiding my tattoo, lingering just enough to make me ache for him. He pulls them down in one fluid motion, taking my panties with them and leaving me completely bare beneath him.
“Fuck,” he breathes out, his eyes dark and hungry as they roam over my body. “You’re so damn beautiful, it hurts.”
The words catch me off guard, and I try to remind myself why we’re here and why I need to keep this simple. “This is a no-strings-attached thing. ”
He grins, his hands gliding up my sides as he leans down, pressing his forehead against mine. “Is your no-strings-attached thing a one-and-done deal?”
I blink up at him. “What?”
“You heard me.” His breath is warm against my lips, and his eyes are playful but with an intensity that’s hard to ignore when his thumb strokes over my chin. “You never see the same guy twice, right? So is this a one-and-done thing?”
I open my mouth to respond, but the words catch in my throat. He’s not wrong, this is usually how it goes. I don’t do attachments. I don’t do second chances.
And still, he’s here.
When I don’t answer right away, he grins wider. “You know, if it is a one-time thing, I need to know in advance. That way, I can bring my A-game, maybe take some blue pills so that I can keep you for as long as physically possible.” His thumb pulls my bottom lip down before it strokes over my chin once more. “If it’s only one time, I want to make the most of it.”
Despite myself, I laugh, the tension breaking for a second as I look up at him. “How about you bring your A-game now,” I challenge. “And if you’re any good, maybe it won’t be a one-and-done.”
His grin turns wicked, his eyes darkening with lust. “So when I’m really good.” He brushes his lips against mine, his fingers starting to draw a path down my stomach. “We can make this a recurring thing?”
“ If you’re good—” I start, but my heart skips a beat as his lips cut me off and finally claim mine in a kiss that’s deep, demanding, and everything I didn’t know I needed.
Then Hottie’s lips trail from my mouth down my neck, each kiss deliberate. His hands roam over my body, teasing, igniting every nerve ending as he presses me deeper into the mattress. His weight on top of me, his breath hot against my throat—it’s driving me crazy.
Threading my fingers through his hair, I tug until I hear him groan, and I arch into him, my body already aching for more, every nerve alive and sparking under his touch. My mind is a haze of need and anticipation, and when his lips ignite a spark from my shoulder to my breasts, I gasp. His tongue flicks against my skin, teasing and tasting—the sheer intimacy of it sends a shiver racing down my spine.
As he kisses lower, over my stomach, my muscles tighten beneath his mouth, the contrast of his soft lips and firm hands making me whimper. His fingers trace along the inside of my thighs, parting them slowly, his touch so deliberate, so reverent, that my breath comes in short, sharp bursts.
It’s not just what he’s doing, it’s how he’s doing it. His hands press into my skin like he’s committing every curve to memory. He looks up at me through heavy-lidded eyes, as though I’m something sacred. Its vulnerability leaves me bare, not just physically.
A moan slips from my lips as his hands spread my thighs wider, sending heat pooling low in my stomach as my body trembles beneath his attention, desperate for more, desperate for him.
Leaning over my pussy, he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, whispering, “Fucking finally.”
His tongue traces my slit, making me suck in a breath, each stroke sending shockwaves through my core. I’m already so close to the edge, so worked up, that my body is a live wire. My hips buck against his mouth as his tongue parts my lips and dips inside, teasing with delicious torture. I can’t stop the whimper that escapes my lips, and my thighs start to tremble .
Hottie must take pity because he stops playing and devours me, his hands gripping my hips to hold me in place. He’s relentless, coaxing me closer to the promise of what’s to come with each deliberate lick coiling the tension tighter within me. When he pushes one of his fingers inside me, my breathing hitches, becoming a series of gasps and moans that fill the room.
He lets out a growl, and the vibration sends a shudder up my spine as he pushes another finger inside . I have to grip the covers even harder for support.
Holy shit.
He looks up at me from between my legs, and as our gazes clash, I tangle my hands in his hair, urging him on with a firm yank. He takes the cue and goes right back to work, and when he groans against me, it almost sends me over the edge.
His tongue flicks over my clit with renewed vigor, each stroke a match to tinder. The fire within me roars to life, consuming every thought, every doubt, until all that’s left is the white-hot heat of my impending orgasm. And then it’s there, crashing over me and leaving me shaking for entirely better reasons than earlier in the evening. My cry echoes in the room as I ride out my pleasure on his face, my hips undulating against his mouth. He doesn’t let up, drawing out my climax until I collapse back onto the bed, boneless and with sweat running down my neck.
Holy fucking shit.
I don’t think it has ever been this good.
Hottie crawls up my body, a smug grin on his glitter-covered face. He looks like a goddamn star fallen from the heavens, and I marvel at the sight of him. Glitter on his face, in his hair, on his lips…
The evidence of my world is now a part of him.
I can taste myself on his tongue as he claims my mouth in a searing kiss. “Fuck…” I moan into his mouth before I break the kiss to beg for him. “Fuck me, please .”
“With fucking pleasure.” Hottie pulls away from me, ridding himself of his clothes, then a moment later, he’s back over me, giving me a view of his perfect chest—lean but muscular and covered in random tattoos all over. He’s so damn hot, with pierced nipples I want to lick, so I lean up and do just that, making him moan and his cock twitch against my thigh.
He briefly moves away, reaching into the pocket of his discarded jeans. The crinkle of the wrapper fills the room, a sound that sends a fresh wave of anticipation coursing through me. It’s then that I notice the silver barbell piercing at the base of his shaft and a small star tattoo on the head of his cock.
God, this guy is fucking crazy.
I watch, my desire mirrored in his heated gaze as he rolls the condom down his length, the action deliberate and strangely erotic.
“Look at me,” he commands, and reluctantly, I pull my eyes away from his extraordinary cock to meet his eyes. In their depths, I find a silent question.
“Yes,” I answer it. “I want this. I want you.”
His exhale is one of relief, mingled with a need that matches my own. He positions himself at my entrance, the head of his cock nudging against me, promising a fullness I’m desperate for. But he waits, giving me a moment to savor the anticipation of what’s to come.
In the quiet of our hushed breaths, he leans down, capturing my lips in a sweet, tender kiss, a gentle caress that makes my heart flutter.
Fuck.
“You have no fucking idea how much I want you, too,” he murmurs against my lips, and I believe him. I feel cherished, not just desired, and it’s a heady combination I haven’t felt in years.
And one that scares the shit out of me.
Before I can overthink it, he thrusts forward smoothly, filling me completely and making us gasp. The stretch is exquisite, a sensation that borders on pain but quickly morphs into pleasure. My legs wrap around his waist, pulling him even deeper, wanting all of him.
“Fuck, baby. You feel so goddamn good.” He begins to move, building a rhythm. I’m lost in the sensations of his skin against mine, his scent, and the sound of our bodies.
“Harder,” I beg, and he responds immediately, gripping my hair at the top of my head by the root and yanking hard enough to make my scalp sting in the most delicious way.
His pace quickens, the force of each thrust making the bed shake beneath us as the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room. His grip tightens, I moan louder, and the raw heat of our bodies colliding overwhelms every other thought. The air is thick with the scent of sex, our existence narrowed to nothing but the rhythm of his body pounding into mine.
“Look at you,” he growls out. “So fucking perfect.” His grip on my hair loosens, and his hand slips until his fingers find my clit, circling in time with the rhythm of his thrusts. Every movement sends a jolt of electricity through my body, and I’m spiraling closer to the edge once more.
Suddenly, he stops. His fingers brush against the condom, pausing as he pulls out just enough to glance down at his cock.
My breaths are coming in ragged gasps. “What?”
“Had to check if it broke.” That familiar, cocky grin spreads across his face, lighting up his features in a way that makes my stomach flip. “Because there’s no fucking way you feel this good with protection on.”
A breathless laugh escapes me. “You’re such an idiot.”
“Maybe.” He chuckles, leaning down to kiss me hard, his lips pressing against mine with a renewed sense of urgency. “But I’m your idiot.”
My protest is overridden by a moan when he thrusts back into me, harder this time, his fingers finding my clit again. My back bows as all my nerves light up yet again, the tension building once more while his words still hang in the air. His thrusts grow even harder, more desperate like he’s trying to fuse us together. My body responds in kind, my hips rising to meet him.
“Stop trying to top me from the bottom,” he growls out against my mouth. “I thought you said you’re a pillow princess?”
I laugh, but it quickly turns into a moan as he hits that perfect spot inside me. My response is to dig my nails into his back, pulling him closer, deeper, until I can’t tell where he ends and I begin. We’re a tangle of limbs as well as a mess of sweat and glitter.
“You’re taking my cock so fucking good,” he praises.
I clench down on him, and he groans into my ear. I can feel myself getting lost in him as his body moves against mine while his hands roam over me like he can’t get enough.
This is what I needed.
“You’re gonna make me lose my fucking mind,” he grits out, almost echoing my thoughts, as his pace falters for a moment before he regains control.
My head falls back, a moan slipping from my lips as the pleasure builds, hot and fast. When he leans in and bites into the side of my throat, the pain, combined with his thrusts, sends shockwaves through my core, pushing me closer and closer to the edge again.
“Please, please, please.” It’s a chant on my lips, a plea that echoes through the room, blending with the sound of our bodies colliding.
His lips brush over my shoulder, kissing and nipping at my skin as his thrusts grow more erratic. “Fuck, baby,” he groans out. “You’re so fucking tight, I can’t—”
He abandons words altogether as his control slips. His breath comes faster against my throbbing neck, and it sends a thrill through me, knowing I’m the one undoing him like this. My hands roam over his back, my nails raking lightly over his skin.
“Fuck.” His hips snap against mine, harder, faster, making my vision blur with pleasure.
“God…” I gasp, my nails digging into his back as I cling to him, feeling myself spiraling toward my release.
“Come for me, baby,” he grits out, pushing me over the edge while his fingers work in a perfect balance of pressure and pace. “I want to feel you.”
The orgasm crashes over me, wave after wave of pleasure drowning out everything else. I cry out, my body shaking as I come, gripping him tight with my hands. My pussy clenches around him, spasming as each wave hits.
Hottie groans as he buries himself deep inside me one last time, his body trembling as he follows me over the edge, spilling into the condom with a low, guttural moan.
We stay tangled together for a moment, breathless and spent. I may not have been able to find my second skin at the club tonight, but fusing mine to his seems to have come easily. His weight feels perfect on top of me, grounding me, and I don’t want to move.
Not yet.
We’re sweaty and hot, sticking together, and I fucking love the feeling.
“Fuck, that was…” He trails off, his face buried in my ne ck, but I can feel the grin spreading against my skin. “Everything.”
I laugh softly, still catching my breath. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
His gray eyes lock with mine, a wicked grin playing on his lips as he asks, still panting, “Not so bad? Damn. I thought I was really good. So… a one-and-done after all?”
Chuckling, I let my head fall back against the pillow. “Chill. You’re still inside me.”
“And…” he presses his pelvis against mine, “… I already want to do it again.” His softening cock is still nestled firmly within me as he says, “I don’t know if I’ll leave when you tell me I can’t come back.”
I laugh, the sound bubbling up despite the strange heaviness settling over me. “Are you blackmailing me now?”
“Of course not,” he replies with a teasing smirk, kissing my forehead before finally pulling out, and the loss hits me immediately.
He stands and walks out of the room, probably to dispose of the condom in the bathroom, and the emptiness, the cold rushes in, but it’s not only physical—it’s that inevitable void when the connection breaks.
And I hate it.
Every fucking time.
This time, it hits even harder. I hate how much I already miss him being close, the warmth of his body next to mine.
When he comes back and slides under the covers, pulling me snugly into his arms, the void fills , and my body thaws with each soft kiss he presses to the top of my head. The relief is immediate, but so is the fear.
What the fuck am I even doing?
This is exactly why I don’t do seconds and let myself get attached. Safety is everything I want but can’t have. And the thought of him taking it away will be even harder .
“You okay?” he asks quietly, sensing the tension creeping into my body.
“Are you?” I counter, trying to push the unease aside.
“I don’t know what I am. You just blew my brain out of my skull.”
I snort. “I didn’t blow you at all.”
His laugh is low, throaty. “Another reason we should repeat this.”
I turn in his arms, meeting his eyes again, and there it is, that grin, so damn cocky and irresistible. A reluctant smile curves my lips despite myself. “I told you—”
“I know.” His gaze softens as his hand strokes my back, his touch grounding me. “I… I don’t want this to stop. There’s too much good here.” I frown at him, but he quickly continues, “There is too much good sex to throw it away. No strings attached, promise. Just you, me, and fun. Good feelings. Nothing else.”
I search his face, trying to gauge how serious he is, how much of this is just talk. But his eyes are steady, sincere. And for a moment, I let myself believe it.
Just fun. No strings. Over and over with the same guy.
The handsome-as-fuck guy who just rocked my world.
I can do that, right?
Maybe it’s exactly what I need now that drinking isn’t an option to dull the edges. Finding random bodies to warm my bed every time I’m spiraling will be exhausting. Having one person—one steady, reliable, insanely hot person—who I can turn to when I need that release? That doesn’t sound so bad. It almost sounds… safe.
I don’t answer him. I simply lie there and allow myself to sink into the sensation as the rhythm of his fingers stroking my back lulls me further into a dangerous sense of calm. I shouldn’t be letting this happen. This is exactly what I’ve always tried to avoid. Letting someone in, even for a night longer than I planned. Attachments make everything harder, even if they’re only fuck buddies.
The deeper you let someone in, the more it hurts when they leave.
Or die.
They take that warmth with them, and I can’t afford to lose something I barely have. God, I’m so tired of being cold, keeping everyone at arm’s length, convincing myself I don’t need this, and fine on my own. I’ve built walls so high that even I’m suffocating behind them.
Hottie continues stroking my back and hair, his fingers trailing down my upper arm. The fight in me is draining away with every gentle caress. He doesn’t push. He’s there, solid and warm.
Maybe I could give him something. Not everything, but something . Just enough to feel the warmth without getting burned. The way I did with Annabelle.
Can I walk that line when sex is involved?
“You don’t have to decide anything now,” his voice is a soft rumble. “I don’t need promises, just… don’t say no too quickly.”
I should absolutely say no, but instead, I stay silent and lean into him, letting his touch soothe the ache that’s been gnawing at me for longer than I care to admit. The tiredness in my bones is overwhelming, pulling me under, and I don’t have the strength to fight it anymore, not after the long fucking day I’ve had.
I’m too tired to think about the consequences or to push him away. Right now, all I want is to be held, even if it’s temporary.
He shifts beside me. “Can I… stay the night?”
I pretend to be asleep, hoping he’ll either quietly slip out or stay.
Just for a little while longer .
His breath catches, and I think he’s going to leave, and I’ll wake up cold and alone, as always. Then I hear him murmur, almost to himself, “Looks like I’m staying because if you don’t kick me out, I’ll never leave.”
His words, his warning , echo in my mind as sleep pulls me under.