Chapter 11
Noah
The whole situation here was bizarre. But, and I had to almost pinch myself to get my head straight.
Because there was something small, a vibe here, that I absolutely adored.
The way we were interacting. How he let me…
be me. Because I was doing all these things and I’d never realised how good it felt to actually…
do them. To take care of someone, like he let me care for him.
Not as a doctor. Not as a friend. Like he actually wanted me to be here and look after his needs and make him feel better about this whole mess we’d landed ourselves in.
I was in full agreement with the choice of words here. Mess. This was one hell of a one, and in my half-hearted defence of my behaviour here? I had no idea how to resolve this.
Instead, I kept feeding him, and he kept talking, and then he’d nod at me to take a sip out of my own glass and excitedly let our glasses clink. Then he’d almost blush. Like this was some kind of date when it clearly wasn’t.
The wine was okay. The steak, a little overdone, but I honestly didn’t care.
I liked it. I liked it all. The way he was picking up chips with his fingers and popping them in his mouth, then picking up another one, dipping it in the sauce and making me eat it.
Me licking his fingertips. The way he laughed.
His fingers returning to remove a smudge of sauce from my cheek.
No table manners here, and he laughed again at the fresh stains on the sheets.
“Can’t take us anywhere. Look at the sheets, and the room is wrecked; there’s sand all over the floor now. Can we call for maid service?”
“No,” I boomed, taking the tray off the bed as he grabbed a napkin and tried to rectify the spillages. Multiple ones. Like we’d had a little party here that had got out of hand.
In reality? Things were surprisingly…nice. Calm even. Him in my clothes. Me? In my clothes. “The housekeepers are not our slaves.”
I drained the last of the wine into his glass, smiling as I let the now-empty bottle drop into the bin.
“Recycling is a thing,” he muttered. “And the sheets smell of gravy.”
“I’m sure this place recycles and all of that,” I said back, carefully wringing my hands.
What I wanted? I wanted to grab more condoms and the bottle of lube that was now neatly stashed in my bag, back where it all belonged.
I wanted him, on the bed, and I wanted to rip his clothes off and I wanted sex. All the sex. I wanted…
“Do you think,” he said, stopping to carefully place his wineglass back on the bedside table.
“Do I think, what?” Stupid. But then? Fuck.
Because here I was, lunging at him. Throwing my entire body over his and letting my hand slide up under the T-shirt, smooth skin and coarse hair under the palm of my hand. Fingertips over nipples. All the things that cranked me up. Zero to one hundred in an instant.
“Please,” he whispered.
“Please, what?” I needed words. I needed him to say it. Make me certain that what I was doing was…correct. Appreciated.
Wanted. The way I wanted him.
“Please fuck me,” he panted out, ripping the T-shirt over his head. All that skin. Those curls. His face, so beautiful, yet…he was not young. He was no male model in a magazine, but he was…rugged and handsome and the way he looked at me? It made everything inside of me ache.
Well, who was I to make any kind of decisions here?
The shorts covering him up were now gone as I carefully helped him lift them over his foot.
His thighs, being pushed up as I did all the things I wanted to do.
My mouth on his stomach, nuzzling into the trail of hair down to his groin.
The scent of him everywhere. Lips against skin. My tongue on his shaft.
There was no reality in which I was any kind of master at this, but I didn’t think it mattered, not right now. The headspace I was in was overwhelming, and he was spurring me on, his hands in my hair, his mouth spluttering out words and syllables and noises.
There was no way he wasn’t into this. Or maybe he was faking it?
The fear shooting through me was sharp and painful, and my head shot up, only to be jerked back into this weird state again.
Because his mouth was hanging slack, his eyes glazed over, and he then gently bit his lip before tangling those fingers in my hair.
Yanking hard. Like he wanted this. Positioning my mouth back to his dick and nodding as I slowly parted my lips.
Let the tip play against my skin. Small soft strokes. Dizzying kisses.
Scents had always been my thing. If something didn’t smell right?
I was not interested. Everything about him made me interested.
My mouth was now full of him, as far down as I could push him.
And his hand, heavy on my head. Then tugging at my hair to make me rise off him.
And back down. Guiding me the way he wanted me.
Taking all his pleasure from the wetness in my mouth.
My tongue. My hands smoothing up to his chest, rough movements, gripping at his skin.
I wanted to feel all of him. Taste all of him.
His hips were now meeting me halfway, sliding further down so he could get the angle right into my mouth.
Me? I was just here for the taking. My thoughts too dizzying to make sense.
I wanted to suck him off. I wanted those hard nipples under my fingers. His chest bruised from my grip.
I came off him and instead buried my face in his pubes so I could breathe him in, at the same time lifting his thighs up, his little yelps not helpful in controlling my arousal.
I was jerking against the sheets, humping into thin air as I got myself up and properly put him in his place.
That little hole of his twitching invitingly at me.
“Fuck,” he gasped.
“Patience,” I huffed back.
I stilled, just watching him. All the beauty that he was. I had lied, saying he wasn’t some kind of male model. He was perfection. Gorgeously mine. Everything about him turned me on. His silly chatter, his openness, his absolute honesty and the way he looked at me? Right now?
“You’re…” he started. Then he shook his head, just gently, like he was trying to figure everything out. I couldn’t have helped him with that, even if I’d had a gun to my head. Because he was just him and I was just me and fuck everything else.
“This okay?” I asked. “You want this?”
“Yes, fuck yes. You can do anything. Just fucking make me feel you. Please.”
That? That I thought I could do. My tongue dive-bombed into his arse, and my lips pressed against his skin.
Tasting him. Sharp flavours and heady smells.
Everything that he was dialling me up even further.
The way his body shivered and jerked, his strangled breaths, the desperate way his fingers tugged at my hair.
“I’m going to…” he gasped out.
I didn’t care. I honestly didn’t mind. I wanted him to. I wanted to give him all of this. Tease every little gasp out of his lungs, the roar that followed and the way his hips rose off the bed. His leg suddenly over my shoulder as he twisted around.
I caught sight of the spurt of come that landed on his hip. And another. His hand now around his cock, heavy-handed tugs and his head fully bent back. Just a mass of curls against the pillow.
“Sorry,” he panted out, his eyes still closed.
“Don’t be. Don’t ever be sorry for anything.”
I was panting. Aroused. A few sharp tugs and I would follow him right over that edge. Join him, paint him with my release.
His leg slid off my body as I rose up, one hand holding me up by his side. The other jerking myself off.
I wanted to mark him. Bite down on that skin. I wanted to own him. Pack him up and take him home with me. Have him watch me the way he did now. In awe. In wonder. And with that look on his face that absolutely matched mine.
Fear. So much fucking fear.
Because there was something here, and I thought he felt it too. Like he felt every shudder in my body. The fog in my brain. He clouded everything, and all that was left of me was sharp and clear.
This was why this should have ended. And why it had not?
I couldn’t even start to explain it. But my release was sharp and almost painful. Shooting out of me and landing on him as he watched. A small trickle of saliva from his mouth. All of it…mine.
I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to just smother him with my body, lie on top of him until we just melted into one.
I wanted him. More than I’d ever wanted anything in my life.
But I was human and sensible and I plonked myself down at his side, sorting out his arm so my head could rest against his chest. I just lay there as he wrapped me up. Arranged his legs and placed his foot against mine. The two of us, just tangled on dirty sheets.
“Noah,” he whispered.
“Fox,” I whispered back. And just then? That was all we needed to say.
He seemed to come to, a while later, when the breeze from the ceiling fan was pricking my skin.
“You really like…you know…eating arse, don’t you?” It was a serious question; there was no mockery in his voice.
“It’s called rimming, Fox.” I was smiling. Because yes, I was figuring out that this was just him. Saying things out loud, even those things I never would.
“Yes, but you like it. It’s like the first thing you go for. A bit of foreplay and then your tongue is up my arse.”
“Do you mind?” The smile on my face should have worried me but strangely didn’t. I liked that we talked.
“Like I would. I mean, how fast did I come this time? It’s almost embarrassing.”
“No. It’s hot.”
“Hot.”
“Arousing. Enticing. I like that I can make you come.”
“You make me come. I don’t worry about that. Not with you. Do you prefer topping?”
“I… Honestly, I don’t know. I haven’t…been with the same person long enough to figure that out.
The…handful of hook-ups I’ve had have all been…
different. I’ve asked for different things, and when we’ve actually been…
you know. In the throes of it all, I’ve wondered if I asked for the right thing.
I liked topping you. I also loved when you fucked me. So, to answer your question?”
“You’re vers. And that is great, because we can just go with the vibe.”
“We’re going to do this again?”
“Of course. We still have a few days left of this holiday. I plan to fuck you and get fucked. This is all too good not to take advantage of.”
“So you’re taking advantage of me?” I was laughing, weirdly so. The realisation that I was having fun? That was a weird one to swallow. And swallow I did. Strange flavours at the back of my throat. I needed to go clean up. Brush my teeth. All that.
“Yes. And you didn’t order dessert.”
“No.” Okay. Mistake. So Fox Riley was a dessert person. Good to know.
“So.” He smiled…and in my head, I added the word seductively. Because he was, his fingers around my neck, his lips suddenly back on mine. “You taste like me.”
“Yes,” I breathed out.
“So for dessert…you think you want…”
“What do you want?” I’d give him…anything.
Honestly, at this point in time? There was no point in trying to be reasonable.
At the back of my mind, I was scolding myself for letting this continue.
But there was no point denying anything anymore.
I would go along with all of this. Everything he was suggesting.
Every kiss on my lips a gift I would accept.
And I would crash and burn, badly, I knew that.
But it would be worth it. For now? Everything was worth it.
“I’ve…never actually come in someone’s mouth. Is that something you do?”
Was it? It was now, as I got up on all fours and straddled him. That gorgeous body of his. Slight, slim. Perfect. His cock half erect again. Like I’d done that to him, without even trying.
“You want me to suck you off and swallow?” Yes, that was me, saying those words. “You think you can come again? This fast?”
“Would that be okay?”
I didn’t bother answering the obvious. So I kissed his lips and then his chest, and then I took his dick in my mouth and gave him everything he’d asked for. Swallowed down every drop. And in my head? There was nothing but bliss.
I wondered what that made me. An idiot, or a guy who’d just found some kind of purpose.