Chapter 4
CALLUM
My chest heaves as I try to catch my breath, the aftershocks of Noelle’s mouth still rippling through me, leaving my nerves buzzing and my cock twitching faintly.
The air is thick, heavy with the scent of sweat and sex, and I can’t tear my eyes away from her.
Noelle, on her hands and knees now, obeying Dean’s command with a grace that makes my pulse kick up again.
Her body shifts forward, palms pressing into the floor as her back arches just enough to highlight the curve of her spine.
She’s a vision—flushed and radiant and utterly in control even as she surrenders to the moment.
I move back, my body still humming from the way she took me apart with her lips, her tongue, that maddening rhythm she set that had me unraveling faster than I’d like to admit.
My cock twitches again, half-hard despite the release only moments ago, stirred by the raw eroticism unfolding in front of me.
Across the way, Grant still watches with a half-lidded gaze.
He’s got his wine glass in his hand again, swirling it in slow motions as he takes it all in.
His thighs are still parted, his spent cock resting on his stomach, a small pool of saliva slicking his abs.
Dean moves with a focused intensity, his hands quick and sure as they grip the waistband of her jeans.
There’s no hesitation in the way he tugs them down her legs, the fabric sliding over her hips and ass with a soft rustle.
Her jeans pool around her knees, exposing the smooth expanse of her thighs and the curve of her ass.
I can’t help the low noise that escapes me, a mix of appreciation and hunger.
When Dean’s hands find her hips, his grip tightens, fingers digging in with a possessive edge that looks like it could bruise.
The sight of it—his hands on her, claiming her—sends a jolt through me, my fingers flexing at my sides as I fight the urge to reach for her again.
Noelle moans at the contact, a soft, needy sound.
Her ass pitches back seeking him, her body practically begging for more.
The way she moves, so open and unapologetically wanton, is fucking mesmerizing.
I can see the tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers curl around the fibers of the carpet, bracing herself as Dean steadies her with that iron grip.
There’s something primal in the way he holds her, and I can’t look away.
Dean’s quick with his own jeans as he rips the button free with one hand.
The sound of the zipper is loud in the quiet room, a stark counterpoint to Noelle’s soft breaths.
He shoves the denim down just enough, his cock springing free, the head flushed and glistening.
My eyes linger for a moment, taking in the raw need in his posture and the way his jaw tightens as he fights to keep control.
He’s as gone for her as I am, as Grant was, and there’s something about that shared hunger that makes this moment feel bigger than just the three of us.
Noelle’s breath hitches as Dean teases her, circling the head of his cock around her wet entrance.
My cock twitches again as I imagine how slick she must be, how ready.
Her hips tilt back, chasing him, and I can see the way her thighs tremble that she’s done waiting.
“Fuck, you’re so wet,” Dean mutters. “Condom?”
Noelle’s response is another moan, her head dipping forward and her hair spilling over her shoulders as she braces herself.
She shakes her head, barely able to mutter, “No, birth control.”
I shift closer, unable to stay still, my hand reaching out to brush along her arm, needing to feel her, to be part of this.
Satisfied, Dean eases forward, the head of his cock pressing just inside her, and Noelle’s moan deepens, her body rocking back to meet him.
Her taking him, the way her body opens for him, is insanely hot and it’s all I can do to keep from pulling her toward me and trying to claim her again.
“Cal,” she breathes out, her voice barely a whisper but it’s enough to snap my focus back to her face.
Her eyes are half-lidded, glassy with pleasure as she stares up at me. There’s a plea there, a need for connection that hits me hard.
I lean in, my hand moving to cup her cheek, my thumb brushing over her lips that are still slick from earlier.
“I’m right here,” I tell her.
Her lips part under my touch, and she presses a soft kiss to my thumb, the gesture so intimate it steals my breath.
Dean moves then in a slow, deliberate thrust that makes Noelle gasp. Her body arches as he fills her.
The sound she makes is raw and unfiltered, sending a pulse of heat through me again as my cock hardens at the sight of her like this.
Dean’s grip on her hips is unrelenting, his movements steady as each thrust draws another moan from her lips.
I sink down to my knees and lean my hips closer, the head of my cock brushing along her parted lips again.
Her body shudders and then she’s pulling me back into that warm heat of her mouth.
My head tips back as I moan, my cock still oversensitive from just coming.
Her tongue swirls over me, tracing the sensitive ridge.
Her lips tighten around me, drawing me deeper and I have to grip the back of her head to steady myself as I fight the urge to thrust into her mouth.
“Fuck, Noelle,” I mutter, my voice rough and barely recognizable as the pleasure builds again, sharp and insistent despite the lingering sensitivity.
I glance down, catching the way her body moves.
Her hips rock back to meet Dean, her hands braced against the floor as she holds herself steady.
Her hair spills over her shoulders, a cascade of dark strands that sway with each thrust.
Dean’s pace picks up slightly, his thrusts growing deeper.
I can feel the way her lips falter, her rhythm breaking for a moment as she gasps, overwhelmed by the sensation of being filled from both ends.
I catch the way Dean’s eyes flicker to mine, a silent acknowledgment.
There’s no jealousy here, no competition, just the mutual surrender to the way she’s pulling us both under.
“You’re so fucking good.” The words spilling out of Dean are raw and unfiltered as he slams into her body.
She chokes around my cock.
My fingers trace along her jaw, holding her in place. “I got you.”
Her hand reaches out, fingers finding my thigh to dig her nails in and anchor herself.
I can see the tension in Dean’s frame, the way his muscles flex with each movement, the way his grip on her hips tightens as he chases his own release.
My thumb brushes over her cheek again, a soft counterpoint to the intensity of the moment. “Let go, Noelle. We’ve got you.”
Her response is immediate—a shudder that runs through her entire body, her lips tightening around me as she moans.
A wave of pleasure crashes over her as she comes, her mouth tightening around my cock hard enough to nearly make me see stars.
My breath hitches as I fight to hold on.
Dean’s not far behind.
His thrusts grow erratic, a low groan escaping him as he follows her over.
I spill into her mouth right as Dean lets a choked noise tumble from his lips, my balls clenching tight as they empty.
I slip from her mouth again, leaning back to breathe.
From across the room, Grant finally speaks.
“Well.” He lifts his wine glass, nearly empty. “That was quite a show.”
When Richard finally comes home later the next day, his face is etched with the kind of exhaustion that only comes from working a double shift.
He’s all smiles though when he sees the spread on the dining table waiting for him—a birthday dinner Noelle’s been fussing over for hours, the air thick with the scent of roasted meat, garlic, and something sweet still baking in the oven.
Grant, Dean, and I are already seated at the table by the time he settles into his own chair, our plates piled high.
Despite the reunion, our eyes keep drifting to her.
She’s in a simple fitted dress, nothing flashy, but the way it hugs her curves and the way she moves like she knows we’re watching, is enough to make my pulse kick up a notch.
I catch Dean’s eye across the table and he smirks a quick, knowing flash that says he’s thinking the same thing I am.
Grant’s no better.
His gaze lingers on Noelle as she leans over to pour Richard another glass of wine I ran out and grabbed from the store earlier in the evening, a faint flush still staining her cheeks from the heat of the kitchen.
We share a secret, the three of us.
The memory from last night that’s still burning under my skin.
The way she felt, the way she sounded blissed out of her mind, the way she was able to pull us all into her orbit and leaving us reeling.
It’s all a silent acknowledgment of what we’ve done…what we’re all thinking about doing again once the night finally winds down again.
Richard’s oblivious, bless him, too caught up in the warmth of the moment, the relief of being home.
He’s telling us the story of the apartment complex catching fire, his hands animated, his voice rough from hours spent commanding his unit.
Noelle is laughing with her head tilted back, and I can’t help but watch the way her lips curve as she talks.
My fingers tighten around my fork.
I force myself to focus on my plate, on the mashed potatoes and gravy, anything to keep my mind from wandering back to the feel of her mouth and the way she trembled between Dean and me just last night.
Dinner stretches on, the conversation easy, the wine flowing.
Noelle’s at the center of it all, her laughter a thread that ties the room together.
But every time her gaze flicks to one of us, there’s a heat in her gaze that says she’s thinking about it too.
That she’s just as aware of the tension simmering beneath the surface as we are.
After pie and a horribly out-of-tune rendition of “Happy Birthday,” Richard pushes back from the table, stretching with a groan. “I’m beat. You lot clean up, yeah? I’m hitting the sack.”
He presses a kiss to Noelle’s forehead, pulling her into a quick hug before bidding the rest of us goodnight and heading upstairs to his bedroom.
I glance at Grant, then Dean, and the look we share lets me know they’re thinking the same thing I am: that the night’s far from over.