Chapter 26
TWENTY-SIX
BUTTERFLY — CRAZY TOWN
Compared to the warmth of our kiss in Nolan’s office, this one is a summer storm—like thunder, crashing across the earth and sky; and driving rain, intense and relentless.
Nolan’s lips are warm; his tongue seeking, testing my resolve tentatively at the seam of my mouth. It doesn’t take much for me to let him in.
I wrap my arms around his neck and drag my nails against the sensitive skin at his nape again, knowing how much he liked it earlier.
His mouth breaks from mine momentarily as he leans back into my caress and groans.
The sound of it sets fire to every part of me that has been so needy for touch and care and attention, but too afraid to ask for it, too afraid to seek it out. Too afraid to even think I deserve it.
Mourning the loss of his mouth on mine, I pepper my own kisses along his jaw and neck, nipping lightly until he seeks me out again, as if he missed my lips and tongue, too.
Now his kiss is more fervent, messy; our bodies press and mold to one another until we’ve stumbled backward as far as we can go, and I’m pinned between his solid frame and the wall. His grip on my hips tightens.
I need more. I need to consume him, to be filled by the beautiful lightness of him; like feeling the sun’s warmth after only knowing darkness for so long, I’m desperate for it. For him.
My fingers fumble for the hem of his shirt, but he pulls back, one brow arched, and tuts.
“You first,” he growls, and in his gaze, I see it—he’s desperate, too. Nolan’s hands, which are now splayed wide across my rib cage, pull my shirt up and over my head. As it drops to the floor, his gaze darkens.
“Everything,” he commands, stroking his palms up the bare skin of my sides, and I unclip my black bra, letting it drop to the side.
He sucks in a sharp breath, pupils blown wide with need as his gaze travels across my bare breasts.
My skin pebbles with the cool air and his attention, hardening my nipples into tight pink peaks.
“Fuck,” Nolan murmurs, blowing out a loose breath.
I feel like I’m on display, vulnerable in a way I never allow myself to be.
It’s too much all at once, and suddenly I’m panicking about how long it’s been since I’ve showered.
I haven’t even had a chance to look in the mirror since we started our drive nearly seven hours ago, and before that, I was trekking up and down the side of a fucking volcano.
“I should shower, before we—” I start to say, my breathing ragged, but he shakes his head firmly.
“Absolutely not,” Nolan’s tone is incredulous, as if I just suggested we jump out the window. Then he slides down my body as he drops to his knees. I squirm a little, but his eyes lock with mine—sincere, yet consuming—and I can’t look away. I don’t want to.
“May I?”
I nod slowly.
Nolan curls his fingers into the waistband of my cargo pants and underwear, pulling them down until they’re wrapped around my ankle. I slip my feet out of my shoes and kick the clothes off and out of the way as an aching need begins to hum between my thighs.
It’s a cresting wave that only builds higher as his own shirt comes off and is tossed aside, the muscles in his shoulders straining, a canvas painted with vibrant tattoos, faded slightly with age.
I can see now that it’s not just his arms that are inked, but his entire upper back and across his shoulders and chest.
Holy shit.
My mouth hangs open slightly as I drink him in, and his arms encircle my lower half, large palms cupping my ass and squeezing gently.
“I know I already said this before, but…fuck,” he murmurs into my belly as he drops a warm kiss on my left hip, then another on the sensitive skin of my stomach, leaving a trail across to the other side. “You’re gorgeous.”
I shiver as his hands reach up to palm my breasts, caressing lightly as if he’s holding something precious or valuable.
He’s coaxing pleasure from me with nothing but the faintest touch, so I return the favor, spearing my fingers into his hair, tugging gently at the roots, then letting go. Over and over.
He groans, a long, low sound against my skin, and I realize that Nolan likes to be scratched; he likes the sharp sting of pressure and then euphoric release, and it kicks my already rapid pulse into overdrive.
I slowly massage the side of his neck with the heel of my palm, and his kisses on my body become more languid, distracted, seeking lower until I feel a hand glide between my thighs.
I let out a sharp gasp as his finger gently slips inside, and a small smile curls at the corner of his mouth, likely as he realizes how long I’ve been turned on by him.
Basically, almost seven hours straight, since we left the car rental place.
My thoughts are shattered as his thumb finds my clit and begins rubbing soft, lazy circles, the other finger stroking in and out in a steady rhythm. I groan, my hands dropping from his hair as my head falls back against the wall, and my eyes flutter closed.
“I think it’s my turn to say fuck,” I croak, and he chuckles, dropping a kiss just below my hip bone. I feel him lift up slightly so he’s crouching instead of kneeling, and then his mouth is on my breast, licking, sucking, and then nipping while his fingers work expertly inside me.
“Nolan, I—please.” I can barely get the words out as my need builds into a crescendo, my body a live wire—on edge and desperate for release, until suddenly I’m coming undone, my hand tunneling through his hair, steadying myself against him as my hips buck into his palm and my body shatters.
All at once, my thoughts are clear. Quiet.
Untethered. Like looking out across a vast ocean after the morning mist has dissipated.
Then, just as quickly, the world comes roaring back into sharp focus and the thumping of my pulse in my ears returns.
Nolan stands, his arms still wrapped around me, his mouth kissing my neck and shoulders gently as my body rewires itself from the splintering sensation of uninhibited pleasure.
As I begin to respond to him again, his hands hook under my thighs and he hoists me up, my legs wrapping around his torso. He chuckles lowly into my neck as the apex of my thighs presses hard against his bare skin. I can only imagine how that must feel on him, warm and slick.
“And here I’ve been worrying that you might not be as into me as I’m into you,” he whispers, before pivoting and laying me gently on the bed behind us.
“What gave it away?” I ask teasingly. He smiles as he takes in my body, his lids half-mast and pupils blown wide.
“I have a condom in my bag,” he says quickly.
“I’m on the pill. And I’m clean—I haven’t been with anyone in a while, not since I was last checked.”
“Same,” he says with a nod. His brow lifts ever so slightly as he says, “So…”
I lift a finger, curling it and mouthing “come here,” as his lips quirk. He puts a knee on the bed to crawl over me, but I stop him, returning his earlier tutting with a sultry smirk.
“Everything,” I demand, and he pulls off his jeans and boxers in one swift motion, freeing the length of him but giving me no opportunity to appreciate it as he covers me with his body. I reach between us and stroke him until he moans.
His lips are on mine, greedy now, wild. One hand palms my breast roughly, the other cradles my head, angling it upward so he can kiss me deeper as his knees gently push my legs apart.
I slide my hands up his back, appreciating the defined planes of his muscles, the softness of his skin beneath my fingertips, until he’s notched at my entrance.
Nolan’s eyes meet mine for a moment, a question there—and I give him a needy nod.
Without further warning, he thrusts into me and a sharp breath escapes my lips, replaced quickly by a moan that he echoes. His strokes are slow at first, tortuously so, and I let out a frustrated huff.
“More,” I whisper. He seems to understand what I’m asking of him and obeys, until we’re both moving fast and rough and desperate to be closer.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” he moans. His voice is hoarse as he speaks his first words since he put me on my back, and I love hearing it. My responding moan seems to encourage him to keep talking, and instantly all his thoughts come spilling out, unrestrained.
He punctuates our kisses with words. How I taste when he kisses me.
What he wants to do with me, to me, for me.
How he wants to please me, to worship me—until suddenly I’m coming again, this time with him.
I grip Nolan’s back tightly, my nails digging into taut muscle and my feet hooked together around his waist, holding him deep until we’re both spent and panting.
With shaky arms, Nolan lowers himself to kiss me, sweetly this time, before rolling off.
“That was…” I trail off, unable to fully put into words what I’m thinking. Because I’m not thinking about anything. For once, my mind is blissfully, beautifully quiet.
“Yeah…it was,” he agrees.
We both laugh softly, out of breath, and at 4 AM, completely exhausted.
But it was worth it.
Hot damn, was it ever.
Nolan stands and stretches, then pads into the bathroom. He returns with a warm, wet cloth and gently cleans up the mess he made.
I can’t wipe the stupid grin off my face, because where on Earth did this man come from? Is it that I was looking on the wrong continent? Or is it just that Nolan is a truly good, decent man, and this is how good men behave?
How sad, that it took me until I was thirty to find someone like this—someone who makes me feel so incredibly safe and cared for.
Someone who is starting to feel more like home than I ever thought a man could.