Chapter Seventeen Noah #2
The truth is, I'd rather be in charge in the bedroom. But something about this woman is bringing out a different side of me. I want to give her whatever she asks for. In a way, I guess that's still another version of dominance.
"Lila." The back of my head presses into her pillow. It smells like her rose-scented shampoo.
"Yeah?"
"I want to fuck you."
She steadies herself with two palms braced on my abdomen, my shirt hiked up to reveal muscles that she pauses briefly to admire.
"Like, right now?" she asks.
"Ideally."
"Would it—I mean, should I—or what if—Hale and Evan..."
"If it makes you uncomfortable to be intimate with me when you also have feelings for them, I understand." Hell, it's really difficult to form complete sentences right now. "But I would give just about anything to be inside you right now."
"Christ." She blushes again, removing her hands so that she can brush her wild blonde hair away from her face. "You're very honest. Like, all the time."
"I know what I want."
Lila bites her lip. Heat sears down my spine. She has no idea what she does to me with just the slightest gestures.
"Do you think they'd mind?"
"Would you like to invite them in here so they can supervise?"
Her eyes grow wide. "What?"
"I'm joking. Unless you're into that. I could probably be into it, too."
Lila observes me for a moment, rosy-cheeked and a little breathless. I gaze up at her, trying to embody patience incarnate even as my dick twitches underneath her.
"I want you to fuck me," she announces at last. I sit up halfway, instantly ready to flip her onto her back beneath me, but she presses down on my shoulders again. "No, not like that. You just saved lives, for fuck's sake. You should rest. I want to be on top."
"Totally," I breathe.
She smiles and reaches for the hem of her sweater. It comes off in one big swoop of fabric, revealing Lila's smooth stomach and perfect tits. Her bra is a sheer, lacy piece of fabric, the same color pink as her pouty lips. I wriggle underneath her, tugging off my T-shirt.
When Lila blatantly ogles me, I smirk.
"Like what you see, Blondie?"
She vaguely wipes at the side of her mouth. "Am I drooling?"
I laugh loudly. "Drool all you want. I don't judge."
Lila shakes her head, then reaches behind her to undo the clasp of her bra. "I have an IUD, and I got tested last month—clean. You?"
"Clean," I manage, my voice rough as her bra falls away, revealing those perfect, freckled breasts—nipples already hard and begging for my mouth. But she's in charge, so I grip the sheets to keep from reaching up.
She leans forward, unintentionally pressing her tits together. I'm pretty sure my brain has evaporated into mist at this point.
“I should probably warn you. I’m pretty big.”
She gives me a deadpan look. “And humble, too.”
Lila laughs and then starts wiggling strangely.
It takes me a minute to realize she's trying to get her skirt off.
The elastic waistband is stretchy enough that she can pull it up over her head, but there's so much fabric that she's temporarily concealed in a tent-like cocoon before, at last, she's naked.
Mostly naked, at least. There's a ridiculously flimsy bit of lace serving as her underwear, but I'm content to just pull it out of the way if that will speed up the process.
She lifts herself up onto her knees, tugging at my waistband. I help her, yanking it down to mid-thigh before I'm pulling her back down to my lap. Lila looks down, staring at my length now sprung free from its prison—thick, veined, already leaking at the tip.
"Oh," she murmurs.
"I tried to tell you."
"Hm." Lila pauses, appears to come to a decision, and shrugs. "I'll figure it out."
"That's the spirit."
She wraps a hand around the base—her fingers barely meeting—and positions my tip at her entrance.
No kissing, no foreplay, no wasted time.
If I wasn't so hellbent on letting her do things her way right now, I'd insist on taking my time with her—teasing her clit with my tongue until she begged, stretching her with my fingers until she was dripping.
But I can do that another time. Right now, the urgency is electric—the fire's adrenaline still buzzing in my veins, the forbidden thrill of fucking in the station where we could get caught any second, the way her green eyes lock on mine like she's daring me to hold back.
I hold her hips steady as she lowers herself onto me. The first inch is so tight that I almost pull her right back off and insist on at least using my fingers first. Heat envelops me, slick and vise-like, and I groan low, my abs clenching.
"Fuck, Lila—you're so tight."
Lila is determined, though. I help her as best I can, shifting one of my hands so that I can stimulate her clit with the pad of my thumb—circling it firmly, feeling it swell under my touch.
She sinks lower, her mouth dropping open in a silent gasp, freckled chest heaving.
In contrast, I have to grit my teeth to keep from losing control and ruining everything, my cock throbbing inside her as she takes more.
"You feel amazing," I whisper, half-delirious from the incredible heat of her, the way her walls flutter around me like they're pulling me deeper.
She watches me with glazed eyes as she works herself onto me little by little, panting hard.
I glide my hand up her body and palm her breasts, pinching her nipple lightly—rolling it between my fingers until it pebbles harder.
The sound she makes is the sort of thing I wish I could bottle up and carry with me everywhere—a breathy, needy whimper that shoots straight to my balls.
When Lila has taken my full length, she collapses forward onto her hands, leaning over me on all fours. Her blonde hair curtains us, her tits brushing my chest with every ragged breath.
And, at last, I get to kiss her. I sweep my tongue past her gasping lips, tangling with hers in a messy, open-mouthed kiss as she starts moving in a slow rhythm—grinding down, circling her hips in a way that makes me see stars.
I can tell she's still adjusting, still tender, but then her soft moans turn into something more like whimpers and I know she's ready.
I don't care if she said I should rest and let her ride me. I'm taking control.
I grip her backside—fingers digging into the soft flesh—and hold her still, thrusting up into her hard and deep.
She sinks onto her elbows, burying her face in my neck as I set the pace, pounding upward with relentless snaps of my hips.
The bed creaks under us, the station's distant hum a reminder of how thin these walls are, how one wrong noise could bring someone knocking.
I breathe in her floral perfume and the scandalous scent of sweat and sex, and all she can do is cling to me as I fuck her like this—clumsy at first, but building to a frantic rhythm where every thrust hits that spot inside her, making her walls clench tighter.
"Fuck, Noah—right there," she gasps against my skin, her nails raking down my back, leaving hot trails that only spur me on.
It's raw, desperate—the kind of fuck that erases everything else: the fire, the screw-up, the campaign hanging by a thread. Just her heat gripping me, her body arching, her moans muffled in my shoulder as I drive deeper, faster, chasing that edge.
When she climaxes, I can feel it. There's a pulsing sensation, and her already tight walls start squeezing in a soft rhythm—milking me, fluttering wildly.
It sends me right over the edge along with her, my release slamming through me in hot waves as I bury myself to the hilt, groaning her name into her hair.
As we tumble into the blissful abyss, she slumps on top of me, boneless and sated.
"Can't believe this is my life," she murmurs, nuzzling my neck.
"Tell me about it, Blondie," I whisper back.