Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
Chase
Getting into a car with a boner is never exactly comfortable, but doing it while doing my best not to let go of Noah and keeping our lips fused makes it considerably harder.
It’s only when I finally fall in after Noah that I remember Grant . . .
“Fuck. Sorry, Grant,” I say with a wince, but I don’t dare look his way.
“It’s all good, Mr. Knightly.” He clears his throat but it doesn’t get rid of the obvious amusement in his voice. “Where to?”
“Oh my god,” Noah whispers from where he’s hiding his face against my neck.
I want to see his cheeks flush with the blush of embarrassment I’m sure is spreading, but right now the only thing that matters is getting him behind closed doors.
“Uh, home?” I say like a question, and feel Noah nod against my skin. “Yes, home. Please, Grant, and I don’t think we’ll go anywhere after.”
Maybe Noah won’t want to stay, but I’ve got my Cayenne, and can take him home if that’s what he wants, though I hope not.
I don’t dare look at Noah, positive I’ll start mauling him again the second I get a good look at him, but we manage to separate and buckle in for the relatively short drive.
The streets are emptier mid-morning, and though I didn’t tell her I’d be off the rest of the day, I noticed this morning that Elsa rescheduled all my calls and meeting for today, the angel.
We make it in just under half an hour, and though we don’t say a word to each other after offering Grant our thanks, we power walk through the iron gate and to the front door in unison.
“Macy?” I call out, maybe a bit desperately, but I’m hoping that she’s not sorting out my laundry in my room right now, that would be too much, and as my housekeeper for the last decade, she already knows too much about me. I don’t want to give her an advantage.
Only silence echoes in the house, though, so I grip Noah’s hand hard and pull him up the stairs, down the hallway to my bedroom, and only when the door is firmly shut behind us, do I finally look at him again.
His lips are still a little bit swollen from our kiss in the elevator—something that more than made up for my first attempt—and I fall into him helplessly. His gravity is pulling me and I have no desire to resist it.
The kiss starts out soft but quickly turns filthy, Noah’s tongue stroking hard against my own in the most expert exploration. I groan and reach down with both hands to cup his perfect ass, pulling him in flush against me so he can feel how hard he’s made me, how much I want him.
In return, I feel his cock pressing against my thigh, and that more than anything makes my blood burn with need.
“Naked,” I say between kisses. “Need you naked, now.”
He springs back, chest heaving with every breath.
“I, uh. I need a moment.”
I nod quickly.
“Of course, whatever you need.”
His cheeks go crimson again, and though I’m not following his train of thought at all, I decide not to push. I hope he’ll tell me, that he’ll let me help with whatever is going through his head.
“I—can I take a shower real quick? I wasn’t really expecting this today and—”
I step up and grab his hand, hoping he can see what I’m feeling in my eyes.
“You can do whatever pleases you in my home, Noah. Always. Can I join you?”
“You want to?” he asks skeptically
“I really, really do.”
“Yeah, okay.”
I kiss his cheek and push his jacket over his shoulder, go lower and kiss the edge of his jaw as I reach for his pants and unbutton them, then trace a path down his throat with my tongue.
“Fucking hell,” he mumbles, sounding more like a moan, and pushes me slightly so he can undress me too.
It takes longer this way than if we had simply undressed ourselves, but this is more fun.
I drop to my knees the second the water starts cascading down on us. The terracotta tile I put in my freestanding shower is warming under my knees. I kiss his chest, bite lightly at his nipple, then kiss down his torso until I reach the skinny path of hair going down to my destination.
“Wait, wait,” he says, and again I pull back and stare up at him. His eyes look almost completely black with how much his pupils have dilated, and his hard cock points right at my face, but I rest my hands on my thighs and sit back on my heels.
“Let me just get washed quickly.”
I look up at him while he reaches for my shower gel in the little opening on the wall, and watch his face screw up in a concentrated frown as he reaches back.
As soon as he’s done, and he’s letting the spray of water wash away the suds, I know it’s the right moment to ask.
“Can I prep you here?”
“You want to . . . ?”
It says a lot about his previous partners that he seems so surprised, but I nod eagerly right away, telling myself that I’ll have time to think about all that after . . . after.
I simply nod, and then, through another blush, he nods too.
I reach up and circle his hips with my hands, then slowly push to turn him around.
“You can lean your hands on the wall if you need to,” I murmur, then reach for the lube I brought in with me, which he doesn’t seem to have noticed, and try to shield my hand from the water to coat my fingers with it.
His ass is a masterpiece, and having him right here is more than I thought I’d be allowed . . . today at least.
It’s a gift I won’t be wasting.
Instead of starting out slow, I lean in and taste him with delicate licks around his rim, trying to get him used to the sensation, because if I have my way, this will only be the first of many, many times we’re in this position.
“God. Chase.” The way he moans my name is the best thing I’ve ever heard, the best incentive I never knew existed for making him feel good.
“Your ass is a work of art, sweetheart,” I tell him, and decide I’m not going to be censoring myself, not mincing my words with Noah. Not ever again. “Let me hear it if you like it, and if I do something you don’t want, please tell me. I promise I only want to make you feel good.”
Curses and prayers fall from his lips when I go back in, when I push my tongue into him and begin loosening him up.
The steady little streams of water running down his back put me in a kind of trance while I focus on how he sounds, on how his back shifts with every harsh breath he lets out, on how his back arches slightly then relaxes whenever I do something he particularly likes.
Slowly but surely I begin to learn every tell Noah has, every way he has of telling me how he’s feeling.
There’s a lot more to learn, I know, and I can’t fucking wait until the day I could write a book about a turned-on Noah alone.
For now, I go slow.
Using a single finger to stretch him out with my tongue before I have to sit back again and use only fingers when I add the second.
I keep adding lube, unwilling to let him experience even a second of discomfort if I can help it.
When my other hand is free of the lube and I start pushing the third finger in, I use it to squeeze his ass cheek, to pet it a little.
“Chase, that’s enough,” he snaps, with a forceful impatience that has me grinning like a Cheshire cat.
“All right.”
My voice betrays my eagerness, but see if I care.
My dick hurts and I have the most gorgeous and smart man begging me to take him to bed—I’ve got no complaints.
I spend a full minute drying him off, and all of five seconds on myself before I’m throwing the wet towel against the drying rack and letting Noah drag me to my huge bed.
“On your back,” he says, taking command, and I don’t mind even a little, but I do take a moment to grab another bottle of lube and a condom from my nightstand drawer.
I sit with my back against the padded headboard, and he climbs onto my lap and attacks my mouth in the same breath.
I let him set the pace—a quick one—and hold on to his hips for dear life as his tongue traces rapid patterns against my own. Then he leans back and gives me a chance to catch my breath as he tears open the condom and slides it down my dick.
The contact is almost too much.
It brings that perfect, almost painful pleasure that I always chase whenever I’m jerking off, but it’s infinitely better when it’s someone else’s hands touching me, and with Noah, it has stars exploding behind my eyelids.
“Fuck,” I hiss, knowing I need to get a hold of myself, because I’m not coming before Noah.
I’m going to make damn sure he has the time of his fucking life riding me, even if it kills me.
It’d be a great way to go.
His movements turn jerky with impatience as he pours lube on the tip of my dick and spreads it down before rising up on his knees and lining himself up.
He sinks down until my tip pushes into him, then he stops.
Probably to give himself time to adjust, but the sudden pressure and heat has me clutching the sheets beside my hips in a vise grip that turns my knuckles white.
“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re perfect.”
His face goes lax, suddenly no longer focused on the stretch, and a tiny—adorable—pleased smile lifts the tips of his bruised lips.
“I want you so much,” he whispers. “I want to go faster, but—”
“No, no.” I manage to loosen my grip on one hand to reach up and pat his hip reassuringly, which is as much as I’m capable of at the moment. “Take your time. I want you too, Noah. Desperately. But if you go any faster, I’m gonna come before I’m ready, before I’ve taken care of you, sweetheart.”
“You don’t have to,” he mumbles, looking down and away.
“I’m pretty sure I’m always going to want to take care of you,” I tell him and give a stiff shrug, as if to say, “What can you do?”
“That sounds nice.”
I can barely hear the confession, probably would’ve missed it if I wasn’t staring so intently at his lips.
“You’re fucking perfect, Noah Ellington. So pretty, so smart and strong.”
“God, Chase, you can’t just say things like that,” he protests and pulls a chuckle out of me.
“Try and stop me,” I dare him.
And as retaliation, he pushes down, faster than I can handle but still torturously slow.
The full heat of him can’t come soon enough, but still, when he’s fully seated I can barely handle it.
“So good, so hot. Noah,” I plead with only his name, but somehow he understands.
Looking beyond pleased with himself and smirking down at me, he grips my shoulders and rises up to kneel again, right up until my cock is about to slip out of him, then he drops.
His own dick bounces with how hard, how expertly he rides me.
Up and down, back and forward.
I don’t have the breath to spare for words, and though he still looks pleased, that little concentrated frown reappears, scrunching his eyebrows as he stares down at me.
All I can do is hold on.
When I can, I blurt out words of praise that have him moving faster, that have his blush deepening.
Until I know I can’t take much more and I reach between us, wrap my fingers around his cock, and stroke him as fast as he’s moving.
At least I try to find some kind of rhythm, and I must find it, because the low hum of a decadent moan starts to build in his chest, and he spills on my hand half a second before I go over the edge inside him.