Chapter 31
CHAPTER 31
I wake from my nap to see Noémie watching over me. She’s wearing the black hoodie I wore the other day and discarded on the back of my desk chair. I get a rush from seeing her in my clothes. Heat flocks to my chest and spreads like wings. She sits on the cushioned bench beneath the window, hugging her knees. Her auburn hair falls loose over her face, looking dark brown in the dim lighting.
I sit up in bed and wipe my mouth and eyes.
We stare at each other, and I wonder who’s going to break the silence first. Noémie does. “I’m glad you’re okay,” she says softly.
I lift my left arm. “If you can call breaking my arm okay—sure.”
“It could have been worse. You’re lucky it wasn’t worse. You shouldn’t have been riding in that storm. What were you thinking?”
My nostrils flare at the reprimand. Truth is, I hadn’t been thinking. I had suffered a sort of cognitive vacancy after meeting Cara—Noémie’s ex, who is a woman.
I decide to speak about the elephant in the room—something tells me that Noémie might not bring it up if I don’t. “This whole time … you lied to me,” I say. “You let me and Wayne and everyone think you were straight. Why? I thought we were being honest with each other. You could’ve told me. I’m not your family, I would never judge you for?—”
“It’s my choice if I want to disclose my sexuality. It’s my choice to come out when I’m ready,” Noémie snaps, her grey eyes glittering. Blowing out a puff of air, she rubs her forehead and turns to gaze out the window.
I stare at her side profile and don’t know what to make of her outburst. In a way, she’s right. She doesn’t have to disclose her sexuality to anyone, but it hurts to know that she kept this part of herself hidden from me. I thought we were friends who told each other things. At least, I’ve shared things with Noémie that I never speak about.
Noémie sighs and runs a hand through her hair. “I’m sorry if that came out harsh, but …” She swivels on the bench and sets her feet down. Hunching over her legs, she anchors her elbows on her knees and looks down at the floor.
I count ten beats of silence, but it feels longer.
“I guess I should have told you, but I didn’t say anything the day you hired me, and then it just got harder and harder to tell you. There never seemed to be a good time.” She sighs and looks up at me with a sad, dejected expression that lances me through my gut. “There’s so much that I need to tell you, but I … I don’t want you to hate me.”
“I could never hate you, Noémie.”
She snorts. “You say that now.”
Another curtain of silence falls between us, and I want to go to her. Even though I don’t think I’m entirely wrong for my reaction to learning about Cara, I want to put my arms around her and hold on forever. I want to tell her that maybe I overreacted. I want to make it clear that it isn’t her fault that I got into an accident. I’ve always been a bit rash and childish—it’s my nature to run when a situation gets difficult. If I stuck around long enough to have an adult conversation with her, we wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t have crashed, and Noémie wouldn’t look like she’s on the verge of breaking down.
Coming out as queer is never easy, and Noémie’s father is one of Canada’s biggest bigots. It makes sense that she would want to keep her cards close.
“The night my sister died was the night she came out to our parents,” Noémie whispers. “I’ve never seen my father so angry. He yelled and cursed and threw things. Antoinette ran away in tears, and my father just let her go …”
Her words crush me. “Noémie …”
“The next morning we got the news that she got hit by a car,” she continues, hugging her arms around her stomach. “It’s been hard for me—talking about my sexuality.”
My heart shatters for her. I leave my spot on the bed and sit next to her on the bench. I squeeze her knee, trying to express that I’m here for her.
Noémie chews on a fingernail. “Cara outed me to my brother,” she says, her voice cracking. “Then Claude outed me to my parents and …”
“Your father cut you off?” I finish for her. It’s no wonder she hadn’t wanted to talk about it.
Noémie nods. “And he paid Cara to … to break up with me. And she took … took the money,” she stammers. Her lower lip quivers.
I put my good arm around Noémie, pulling her close. She buries her face in my chest. Tremors rock her body as she sobs. The front of my shirt gets wet from her tears. I hold her tight to me, rubbing her back and wishing there was something I could say to ease her pain. I hate Hugo St. Pierre with every fibre of my being. I hate Claude. I hate Cara.
“None of them deserve you,” I say. “You deserve the world. I would give it to you if I could.”
Noémie peels away from me and sniffles. Her tears have stopped, but her grey eyes are puffy, red, and still full of emotion. She drops her gaze to my mouth and then meets my eyes. She licks her lips, and I go still. I stop breathing.
There’s no mistaking what Noémie’s thinking about. I’ve imagined this moment so many times. It feels unreal that it’s happening. My heart jackhammers. More than anything, I want to erase the gap between us, but I know I shouldn’t—not like this. Noémie’s in a vulnerable state right now. She isn’t thinking clearly. I don’t want her having any regrets.
It’s the hardest thing in the world to put some distance between us, but I do it. Or at least, I try to. Noémie doesn’t let me, she grabs my thigh and leans into me. She kisses me, and my nerves fire up like I’ve touched a live wire. Her mouth on mine is electric and hungry, and I feel it all over my body. I kiss her back like my life depends on it—like her lips feed me the oxygen I need to function.
Heat pools in my core, but even as I ache for her, I break away with a groan. “Noémie … we can’t?—”
She hushes me with a finger to my lips and crawls into my lap. “I need this. I need you.”
Her words make me shiver. The smell of her perfume—a blend of citrus and fabric softener—is intoxicating. “You don’t know what you’re saying—you’re upset.”
She brushes her lips against my ear. Her hot breath on my skin undoes me. If she keeps this up, I won’t be able to control myself. “You don’t know the first thing about what I want,” she says.
That might be true, but she’s hurting and I’m just an outlet she can lose herself in. But what will happen after, when she gains back her senses? We are roommates. We work together. She has a boyfriend.
The thought of Felix is sobering, but not enough to force her off me. Not enough to stop me from slipping my right hand under the hoodie and caressing the smooth skin of her stomach.
Noémie shudders and wraps her arms around my neck, bringing us closer. Our breasts push together. She moves against me and runs her tongue down the length of my neck before nipping my earlobe.
“Fuck,” I gasp. “If you keep this up, I won’t be able to control myself.”
“I have no plans of stopping,” she says, pulling back to look at me. I see no more traces of pain reflected in her eyes. All I see is desire. “Unless you want to stop. Tell me you don’t want this.”
I open my mouth to say as much, but I forget how to speak.
Noémie shifts forward in my lap and we’re back to kissing.
“I can’t stop thinking about the party,” she murmurs against my lips. “I wanted you to rip down my thong, push your fingers inside me, and fuck me in the washroom stall.”
Noémie’s admission makes me wetter. She’s saying everything I’ve fantasized about. “You did?”
“Yes,” she says, digging her fingers in my hair and scraping her nails against my scalp. “You’re such a distraction. It’s annoying.”
“You’re the distraction,” I shoot back, squeezing her ass and drawing her even closer.
She sucks in a breath and flips her hair over a shoulder. “I want you on the bed,” she says.
I chuckle. “Is that an order?”
“If you’re into that, then yes, it’s an order.”
I don’t know if I’m into that. It’s not something I’ve tried. With every partner I’ve been with, my role has been the same—top. I’ve never been interested in being touched. I’ve never submitted to anyone or let a lover call the shots. Samira loved how dominant I am—until she didn’t.
I consider telling Noémie this. Maybe it will be the cold water to the face that will put out the fire burning between us. If I confess to her, telling her how rigid and set in my ways I am, maybe she’ll want nothing to do with me. Maybe it’s better to put a pin in things now, because I want so much more from Noémie than a casual hookup, and I know my hangups in the bedroom can be a dealbreaker. If given the chance, I would risk opening myself up to heartbreak to be with her. This revelation both scares and excites me.
Noémie slips off my lap and tugs off my hoodie and then the baggy Nike shirt she’s wearing beneath. Her bra is orange lace. Her rosy nipples peak through the sheer material.
My mouth goes dry.
“Like what you see?” she asks, cupping her tits and then running her hands down the canvas of her toned body.
I swallow and nod.
Next, she unbuttons her cargo shorts and shimmies them down her legs in a slow and sensual motion. Her panties match her bra—of course they do.
“I thought I told you that I wanted you on the bed,” she says, fixing me with a serious look.
“Noémie, I?—”
“Why are you talking? Did I say you can talk?” She smiles sweetly at me, but her grey eyes sparkle with intensity.
I do as I’m told and get on the bed. I think I’m into it—Noémie’s bossiness. But if we’re going to do this, we need to lay some ground rules. We need to have the tough conversation that might ruin everything.
“Noémie, I don’t like to be touched,” I say.
“Okay.” She doesn’t bat an eye, like it isn’t a big deal. “Do you not like to be touched everywhere or just …” She stares at my crotch.
“Just there,” I say.
“Thanks for telling me.”
I frown at her. “You’re okay with that?”
She frowns right back at me. “Why wouldn’t I be okay with it?”
“Because it’s weird.”
“No, it isn’t,” she says, sounding offended. “And I hope no one ever made you feel like it is.”
“It’s why Samira and I broke up,” I confess.
“She’s an idiot, and she knows it. She regrets letting you go. Her eyes give her away—the way she looks at you,” Noémie says. She rolls her eyes. “But if we’re done talking about your ex, I assume you have a strap. Where is it?”
I think about pinching myself. This can’t be real. Noémie isn’t in my bedroom asking for my strap. Those must have been some very strong pills the doctor gave me. But even if this is a fever dream, I’m dying to see how it plays out.
I clear my throat. “Top dresser drawer—in the closet.”
Noémie disappears for a moment and returns toting my harness and my biggest toy. It’s eight inches and an unnatural hue of purple.
She climbs onto the mattress and prowls towards me like a panther. “Lie on your back,” she tells me.
I don’t hesitate to do what she asks. Whenever I imagined us together, I never took into account her confidence and assertiveness. I don’t think I’ve ever been with a woman so forward. She’s the type of woman who knows what she wants and goes for it. I admire that about her, and maybe I wish I was more like her.
Noémie helps me out of my basketball shorts. Her fingers skim the thick band of my Calvin Klein boxers. “Je veux tellement que tu me baises,” she whispers in my ear.
“Hmmm?” I don’t know what she’s saying, but it sounds hot. I like it when she talks French.
“I said, I want you to fuck me.” She yanks my shirt off. Her hands roam over my shoulders and down my sides, filling me with sensation. She makes me feel so much.
“How do I say, I want you to come on my tongue in French?” I ask, raising up on my good arm.
She pushes me back down on the mattress, staring at me like I’m her favourite meal and she hasn’t eaten for days. “Je veux que tu viennes sur ma langue.”
I try to repeat her words, but it sounds all wrong. Noémie doesn’t seem to care that my French skills are deplorable. Her pupils are blown. “Is that what you want?” she asks, her voice husky and warm. “Do you want me to come on your face?”
“Fuck yes,” I rasp.
She moves forward carefully, so as not to knock my cast, and straddles my face, bracing against the headboard to support her hover.
The crotch of her panties is soaked. I groan. I can’t believe this is happening. Can’t believe how wet Noémie is for me.
I adjust the pillow behind me to get a better angle and then put my mouth on her skin. Though I’m ravenous for her, I take my time with her, kissing and nuzzling her thighs. I lick and nip the sensitive area above her clit. My good hand squeezes her ass.
Noémie gets tired of my teasing. “I need your mouth on my clit.”
I decide to reward her, running my tongue down the length of her through her panties.
“Fuck!” Her body spasms. Her hips buck.
I slip her panties down to get better access. She’s soaking beneath them, and I can’t hold back any longer. I glide my tongue over her pussy over and over, sucking on her clit in intervals. She tastes so good, like salt and honey.
Noémie becomes frenzied. Her hips piston against my face as I eat her out—faster and faster. She convulses and cries out too quickly. I’m nowhere near sated, but she’s too sensitive and pushes my face away.
She crashes down on the bed beside me, closing her eyes. Her breaths are rapid and her skin is flushed all over. She’s fucking perfect.
I need to touch myself and get off too. I slip my hand down the waistband of my boxers.
Noémie’s eyes flutter open, and her gaze dips to my moving hand. “Can I watch?” She asks.
I nod and slide down my boxers.
I hear her sudden intake of breath. “You’re so fucking hot,” she says, bringing her fingers to her centre and rubbing in quick circles. Just when I thought I couldn’t get more turned on, Noémie does something to make me even wilder.
How could anyone choose money over Noémie? She’s irreplaceable. She’s everything I could ever want and will never deserve. I’ve never experienced anything like this before—this kind of chemistry. I love her so much …
“I want to watch you fuck yourself with your fingers,” I say, amping the speed of my strokes. There’s no delay, Noémie slips two fingers inside herself.
I groan, and she moans.
We lock eyes as we fuck ourselves, inching closer and closer to that place of euphoria. I find it first, my back arching off the mattress. “Fuck!”
Noémie, I notice, doesn’t come. She removes her fingers from herself and watches me plummet back to earth.
When I catch my breath, I eye her suspiciously. “You didn’t come.”
“I thought I was clear earlier. I want you to fuck me.” Her eyes dart to the strap that lies on the mattress a foot away from me.
I reach for it. She stops me with a hand on my shoulder.
“Not yet.” She snuggles up to me and rests her head on my chest. “How’s your arm feeling?” Her fingers graze my cast.
“I guess it hurts a bit.” I shrug. “It’s bearable.”
“When I got the call that you were in an accident, I … I just about lost my mind,” she whispers. “It was like reliving my worst memory.”
“Your sister?”
She nods, and when she looks back up at me, her grey eyes are glittering.
“Hey, I’m okay.”
“I know. I’m being dumb.” Noémie sighs. “Sorry.”
I hug her to me. “Don’t ever apologize for your feelings. They’re valid,” I say, brushing my lips against her forehead and wiping her tears away with my thumb. I lift her chin and kiss her slow and deliberately—the way I’ve dreamt about. Her skin is warm against mine—the softest I’ve ever felt.
I unclasp her bra, and her breasts spill out. She whimpers when I dip my head and swirl my tongue over her nipples. I want to brand her with my mouth and make her mine. I want to fuck her so good that she forgets Felix ever existed. I might not have a real cock, but I know how to use the one I do have.
Pulling away from her, I reach for the strap. “Do you want it now?”
She nods and licks her lips.
Because of the cast, I fumble a bit with the harness, but Noémie doesn’t seem to mind. She watches me through hooded eyes.
When it’s on, she gets on her knees and comes to me. The dildo presses into her stomach.
“Want me to get the lube?” I ask.
“I don’t think I need it,” she says, wrapping her fist around the cock and stroking it. “I’m so wet for you.”
Noémie lowers her mouth on the toy and puts on a show for me, licking the shaft and taking half of it down her throat. She moves her hair out of the way so I can get a better view and stares up at me as she works it in and out of her mouth.
I don’t think I’ve ever been so turned on before. My clit throbs. “Fuck, Noémie …”
“Do you like it when I suck you off?” she asks, pulling back a bit. The shaft glistens from her spit.
“Yes.”
“I wish I could take all of you in my mouth, but you’re so big,” she says.
I wince as a bolt of pleasure rushes through me. “Fuck, your dirty talk is going to be the end of me.”
“Good, that’s my goal,” she says, easing onto her back and spreading her legs for me. She hadn’t lied, she’s dripping for me.
My mouth waters looking at her. I’m dying to have another taste, but that’s not what she wants from me. She wants me to fuck her, so that’s what I’ll do.
I climb on top of her and kiss her. She whines and jerks when I slip the tip inside her. “Too much?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “No, it just feels so good. I need all of you. Please.”
I try to give her more, but she’s so tight, and I don’t want to hurt her. Taking my time, I slide out and back in, repeatedly sinking a little deeper each time. Beneath me, Noémie writhes and moans. Her fingers dig into and scrape against my back. She’s crying out things in French that I don’t understand.
When I push the toy all the way inside her, she makes a guttural sound that makes me feral. I pick up the tempo, thrusting hard and deep. She meets my rhythm, arching her hips to meet every stroke.
I slip up but catch myself with my casted hand. Pain washes over me, and I grit my teeth. I push through the discomfort. I can’t stop fucking her—not until she comes for me. She’s so close. I can tell. There’s more and more resistance as I pump into her.
“Fuck, Jordan!” Noémie’s back arches above the mattress. Her legs wrap around me. “You feel so good.”
Leaning forward, I capture her lips. Our tongues meet. And I keep going. I keep fucking her, fighting through the pain.
Noémie’s head slams back. Her body spasms as she cries out. I’ve never heard a more beautiful sound.
I slide the toy carefully out of her and roll onto my back. Breathing hard, I stare up at the ceiling. I try to ignore the throbbing in my arm. Beside me, Noémie’s breaths are just as ragged. When she recovers enough, she curls herself next to me and rests her head on my shoulder. We’re both hot and coated in sweat.
I turn my head, and we lock gazes. She cups my face and strokes my cheek with her thumb. “I love you, Jordan,” she says.
My heart flutters too fast in my chest; it’s a wonder it doesn’t burst out. Her words make me feel euphoric, but I question their validity. Women say things they don’t mean during and after sex. The words I love you sit heavy on my tongue. I want to say them, but I can’t. I need to be sure of Noémie’s feelings for me first.
Blinking, Noémie drops her hand from my face and sits up. She frowns and clears her throat. “I have to use the washroom.” She slips off the bed and goes to the ensuite. The door clicks shut behind her.
Yawning, my eyelids grow heavy. I drift to sleep.