12. The Gang’s All Here #2
She waves a dismissive hand and straightens. “I don’t even know. That last drink might’ve been one too many.”
Her arms band around my shoulders and she leans her head against mine. “I needed this. We should do it more often… minus the hickeys.”
“Agreed. We need more girl time.” I burp and cover my mouth.
Callie starts laughing all over again, then spins me toward the door. “Come on. Let’s get another drink.”
I stumble up the last step, my knees colliding with the hard floor. “Ope. Shh.”
Did I just shush myself?
I must be more drunk than I realized.
I stand on legs that apparently no longer belong to me, fumbling in my pocket for the keys. I manage to find the lock and push into my apartment, closing the door behind me. I press my back to the wall and lean my head back against the surface, catching my breath.
The memory of Noah’s warm body behind me, his hand on my belly, deft fingers sinking beneath my skirt, sends a shiver down my spine, and goose bumps erupt along my arms. I can’t believe he just… disappeared like that… after what he did? What a dick.
I’m still hot and bothered. Maybe I should knock on his door and give him a piece of my mind.
Or my body.
Either would do.
Except I’m not interested in being rejected again, so I do the only logical thing I can. I strip out of my clothes in the entryway, then I stumble to my bedroom and collapse onto the bed. Once the ceiling stops spinning, I pull my bright red vibrator from the nightstand.
The Rodeo Vibe never lets me down.
Yeah, I named it after that one scene in Pretty Woman, sue me.
A steady buzzing sound fills the room as I press the tip of the vibrator against my clit. I’m still wet from Noah’s teasing, and if Callie hadn’t pulled me away, I’m positive I would’ve let him do unspeakable things to me.
My thoughts stray to his capable hands, envisioning them sliding lower, confirming what we both already knew—I was wet and needy for him.
I slide the vibrator down to my entrance, letting it slip inside slowly.
What would it be like to let Noah Weston touch me? To have those inked hands all over my body? Inside of me?
“Oh god,” I whine. “Oh, fuck.”
I press the button to turn on the clit teaser, driving the shaft farther inside. My back arches off the bed as the dueling sensations rocket through me, sending a spike of pleasure shooting up my spine. I’m already teetering on the edge of my first orgasm.
I bring my free hand to my left breast and toy with my nipple as the memory of Noah’s mouth on my neck fills my vision.
It never takes me long to get there, but sometimes I like to draw it out. Edge myself until I can’t take it anymore. Not tonight, though. Noah did enough of that earlier.
I fuck myself harder, steadier, until I’m right there. Then I hold still, letting the clit teaser finish me off.
My toes curl into the comforter, and my stomach hollows as the orgasm consumes me, stars bursting behind my eyelids. As I cry out in pleasure, I start to move again, drawing out the orgasm until the shockwaves subside.
When I pull it out, the vibrator accidentally falls to the floor with a thud. I wince, but I can’t move. Too tired to do anything but lie there with my eyes closed.
The minutes stretch on, and as I start to drift off to sleep, I hear someone call my name through the walls.
No. Not someone. Noah.
It’s a desperate sound like a plea—like a man deep in the throes of ecstasy, and that can only mean one thing—he wants me just as much as I want him.
NOAH
It’s nearly one o’clock in the morning when I quietly let myself into the apartment. I drove around for over an hour, trying and failing to clear my head.
The low light of the television flickers across Emma’s sleeping form on the couch, and I lay a blanket over her legs but leave the TV on. She always slept better with background noise.
On my way down the hall, I peek into Auggie’s room. He’s tucked in with his favorite teddy bear and his baby blanket and snoring like a grown man, with his mouth wide open.
I trail into my bedroom, carefully close the door behind me, toss my leather jacket onto the chair, and kick off my boots.
My night was far from successful, and I only have myself to blame.
I never should’ve pulled Clio into this mess.
I was so close to breaking the only hard-and-fast rule of the contract.
If Callie hadn’t pulled her away, I have no doubt I would’ve.
Against my better judgement, I pull off my shirt and bring it to my nose, inhaling the scent of lingering orange blossom.
I don’t know if it’s her perfume or her shampoo, but I want it everywhere all the time, surrounding me.
When she’s in my arms, the noise and the lifetime of residual pain quiets, like the dull hum of the refrigerator.
It’s still there, but after a time, you stop noticing it.
“Oh god,” a muffled feminine voice reaches my ears. “Oh, fuck.”
Is that…
A moan travels through the plaster separating my room from Clio’s, and I curse under my breath, my hands curling into fists. She’s in there, on the other side of that wall. Is she alone? Did she bring someone home from the bar?
The thought that she could be in there right now with some other undeserving fuck makes my skin crawl.
Ignoring all logical sense, I listen for some sort of confirmation—a man’s voice or his name said in a breathy tone. Instead, I hear the unmistakable buzz of a vibrator.
I’m no stranger to toys. In fact, I have a drawer full, so it’s possible whoever she’s with has the good sense to know that toys are teammates, not competition, but my gut is telling me she’s alone over there, taking matters into her own hands.
Fuck—I want it to be me. I want every ounce of her pleasure to be mine.
Every sigh, every moan, every single toe-curling orgasm.
I sink onto my mattress, my cock straining against the seam of my jeans as the noises combine into some erotic fucking symphony. I shouldn’t be listening, but I can’t tear myself away.
If she didn’t want me to hear her, she shouldn’t be so loud.
Maybe that’s it. Maybe she’s torturing me on purpose, the fucking brat.
Say my name, Clio. Please fucking say my name.
My fingers drift to the button on my jeans, popping it open to release my rock hard erection. I take myself in hand, giving it a few rough tugs and spreading the precum from the tip all the way down my shaft.
I throw my head back and groan at the sweet relief.
Her sounds grow louder, more frantic, and my cock jolts in response.
I kick off my pants and slide farther up the bed, leaning my back against the headboard to get as close as I can to the noise.
It’s not enough. I’d much rather be in there with her, watching her play with her pretty pussy, driving herself to the edge.
I’d talk her through each step until she can’t take it anymore.
Until her muscles convulse and shake from the force of her orgasm.
I work myself harder and faster, sweat beading on my forehead from the effort. I’m so fucking close, but I need more. I need her. The thought of being inside of her, feeling her coming around my cock has me close to a full collapse.
My stomach tightens as pleasure courses through me.
I consider reaching into the nightstand for a dildo, but there’s no time.
Instead, I spit into my other palm, spreading it over my fingers before drawing my knees up and reaching lower to circle my ass.
One finger breaches past the tight ring of muscle, and I clench around the intrusion, pumping in and out slowly.
Minutes stretch on as I chase my release, just barely out of reach. Clio cries out into her room, and the sound settles deep in my bones. She whimpers. The vibrations stop. There’s a loud thud, likely the headboard hitting the wall.
I pump my shaft faster, picking up the pace until my spine tingles and every muscle in my body coils tight.
I growl her name as my climax tears through me, shooting ropes of cum across my chest and abs. My toes curl into the comforter.
As I come down from the high, I reach for the box of tissues on the nightstand and clean myself up, shoving down the pang of regret.
I hadn’t meant to call out her name, but it’s too late to take it back.
It’s not rational, but a distant part of me wants her to know how badly I want her, how much I crave her. Deep down, I know this was a mistake, but I can’t seem to muster up a single fuck to give.