26. Georgie
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
GEORGIE
Like the flip of a switch, Noah stays true to his word and listens to mine like it’s scripture.
I think he’s going to slip down my body and finish what he started with his tongue, but then his hands, his impossibly long hands, are pulling me, my entire body over him, my knees like earmuffs.
I realize what he’s doing and release a squeak, but his hands are gripping my hips, my thighs, holding me still and keeping me where he wants me.
I can’t help laughing at how natural this is for us.
“I thought I was in charge?” I remind him, and though his hands go lax, they stay on my hips and rub small circles of encouragement.
“Please. I want it,” He means it, too. I can see the want, the need in his eyes. His chest rises and falls, his neck angled up so I can see the way he swallows hard. Who am I to deny this beautiful boy what he’s asked so nicely for?
“I’ll smother you.” I protest.
He grins at me. “If I die, I’ll die happy.”
That’s really the end of the argument because his mouth is hot and wet and fast as lightning, immediately hitting every possible nerve and humming in contentment.
I throw my head back, gasping for air as he sets my body on fire with his tongue, his fingers leaving welcomed bruises on my hips.
I have to bracket my arms on my headboard to hold myself up as he continues, the rumble in his throat ferocious, starving.
My hand slips down between my legs where his head is, my fingers in his hair pull him to the place that will surely have me coming undone.
Noah whines softly and redoubles the efforts, his tongue flicks at my clit and then draws all the way down.
Quivering and begging to release, it’s so much—too much.
He doesn’t stop, moves in a way that I don’t expect.
I feel his hand on the inside of my thigh, scratching, inching its way up, up, up until his middle finger is slipping inside me.
My back arches, my head goes to static, he melts me under his touch.
His tongue, his eyes pierce mine, locking me into him.
He curls his finger inside me, and it’s one, two, three simple strokes of his tongue and the rubbing of his finger on that sweet spot inside to have me coming, and coming, and coming.
“Noah!” His name is the only word I can formulate in my head, the only word on my tongue, my lips. He continues until I can’t bear it any longer.
I can’t move, I can’t breathe, everything is Noah, his fingers, his hair, his face, his smell, his tongue—a weapon of mass destruction.
I feel him, his hands trying to coax me back into the bed, but I shake my head.
I can’t. I have just had one of the most intense orgasms of my life, the first one initiated by someone other than myself in the longest time, and now that I’ve had a taste, I need more.
“Don’t you dare move,” I tell him when he tries to slip away. I lift my head from my arms braced on the headboard, and when I look down beneath me, I almost come again.
Noah is glassy-eyed and grinning, and his face is absolutely soaked.
From me. I did that. His hands ease me down, so I’m almost sitting on his chest, trying to hold my balance.
I touch my fingers to his lips, and the cocky bastard bites at me playfully and gives his hips a thrust up, his eyes falling closed, and the smile never leaves his face.
“What’s that face for?” He asks, stretching out his arms and letting out a sigh when his back pops.
I snort. “I didn’t peg you for the smug type.”
“I didn’t think I was.” He says thoughtfully. Then his eyes wander for a second, and then laser focus right back to me. “You’re beautiful,” he tells me. I believe him.
“And you’re all spacey… Okay, I think I can move now. You, on the other hand,” I shimmy down his chest until I’m astride his hips. I can feel him hard underneath me. I shiver. I pat his chest. “Don’t move a muscle.”
“But—”
I raise an eyebrow as I reach over into my nightstand and root around in the drawer, “For someone who asked me to tell him what to do, you do an awful lot of arguing,”
He chuckles, “I’m sorry.”
“Are you?” I say as I settle back on my haunches and set the bottle of lube and a condom on his chest. I relish the moment his eyes trail down and then flash back up to me.
“No, not at all.” Noah’s voice is breathy and light as he realizes what I want. What I need. What I want to take if he’ll let me.
“Am I going to be expected to do this all by myself? Or—”
He takes the hint and wraps his ridiculously long fingers around his cock, eyes fluttering shut, a curse lost to the void as he works himself up.
I sit and take in this sight, relishing in it.
He’s fucking beautiful. There’s no other way to express it.
He has pink lips and wild eyes, and mused hair, but even in the evening glow of my room, he’s effortlessly beautiful.
A piece of art I could stare at for the rest of my life and not be bored for a moment.
There’s always something new to learn about him.
The way his thighs flex as he touches himself, the way his jaw drops open just a bit.
The pinch in his brow, the tiny constellations of freckles down his toned chest, which I trace just because I can.
The thing is, it’s unbelievable that I get this moment with him.
That I get every moment with him. I don’t think about anything other than this, than us.
His voice catches when I gently touch his nipple, eyes wide as he meets mine, and he chokes out, “Shit, I’m—”
“Don’t.” I take my hands away and stop his hand on an upstroke and he falls back to the bed, panting and groaning.
“Oh my god. Please, please,” He begs me, and the tingly feeling up my spine returns.
“Only if you’re inside me.”
The condom rolls on and he makes sure to use the lube I gave him.
“Georgie,” He hisses, and I realize he’s ready, beyond ready. He lays rock hard against his hip and twitches when he notices me staring and gods—that really does something for me.
“Needy,” I tease him.
“Please.”
“Well, go on then. Not going to do all the work here,”
He instinctively takes over, rubbing his already lubed fingers along my sensitive clit and down, then inside. I shiver, biting my lip to keep the sounds in, making him appear even smugger.
“Noah,” I whine, shaking my hips to urge him to do something, anything.
“Now who’s needy?” He takes his cock in his hand, giving an extra pump for good measure before he guides me over him, the head of him thick and hard pressing against me.
He rubs himself up and down, and it’s glorious torture.
I dig my nails into his shoulders for him to take the hint, and he laughs.
It’s been too fucking long, and if he isn’t inside me right this second—
Noah pulls me down for a kiss as he presses in, slowly, so fucking slowly.
I lose my breath and my ability to function as a human being.
My brain is static, my body is fire, and I need this more than I ever realized.
My body trembles when I am fully seated on him, relishing in the feeling of being full.
“Georgie.” My name is like a prayer, like a love song being inked into my skin. I can’t take it. I need him, I need it rough, I need it fast, I need—
“Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”
It’s like he knows; he knows all the words inside my head before I ever say them aloud. He braces himself, and I lift my hips, and he pulls back and—
“Oh god.”
I can’t tell if that was him or me who said it, all I know is he’s inside me, and he’s setting a rhythm I meet with every down thrust and- it makes my chest burn.
My body is not my own right now, overtaken by the electricity and his relentless canting and the way he hits that spot just right with every slide of his cock.
He changes the rhythm just when I think I’m close, switching to slow and languid and taking in the moment.
It’s agony, I need to feel the burn of him, but it’s tender and sweet, he’s whispering sweet nothings in my ears, and I know this is it.
There’s no going back, no quitting him. He’s like a drug, I am addicted, and I never want him to let me go.
“Georgie, please let me come.” That alone is enough to undo me.
“Fuck.” I hiss, grabbing his hands and pressing him down into the mattress and taking what I want to take and what he is more than willing to give.
“Georgie…” My name is a spell on his lips.
His head is thrown back as he raises his hips to meet my downward thrust. His wrists push up against my bonds, not enough to push me away or to get me to stop from holding him down.
No, he’s testing to feel it, to feel the weight of my hands holding him down, making him stay, making him take it.
He’s testing the sheer control I have, the control he’s given me.
“I’m close,” I whisper to him.
“Me too. Please.” He says, kissing me hard and fierce and with so much emotion it’s almost too much.
I feel my orgasm building deep inside, then rippling its way through me in waves.
There’s a moment where it hurts too good, where I think I need to stop, but he pushes and I pull, and that’s what does it for me.
The shock on his face as he feels me clench down on him, my thighs shaking around him as my head falls back, and I let out every possible sound of pleasure he’s making me feel.
Noah fucks me right through it. I come, hard and fast and drenched in sweat, but I’ve never felt more beautiful.
“G—”
I lean down, pressing myself on top of his body, and I whisper in his ear, “Yes. Yes, yes, yes. Please. Come for me.”
I feel it wrack through his body, the tensing of his thighs, the arch of his back, the catch in his throat as he fucks me through his orgasm, the way he bites down on my shoulder and lets out a soft whine as he shivers.
I kiss him, over and over, until he sighs into my mouth, and I know. I just know what it means.
When we aren’t completely boneless anymore, we stumble to the shower. He tenderly traces my skin with sudsy fingers and I do the same for him. Our bodies pressed together, he kisses me like his life depends on it.
I do have to dress an HS spot afterward, a small one on my thigh that I fully anticipate being not fun at all in a day's time, but that’s future Georgie’s problem. I pull the bandage out of the basket on the back of my toilet and once my skin is dried, I move to cover the spot.
But Noah’s hands come over mine, and he takes the bandage from me, and he places it gently and evenly around the spot without a word.
We meet each other's gaze and my chest feels heavy. He looks at me like he’s seeing the stars for the first time.
Like he’s seeing the most exquisite thing he’s ever seen.
There are so many feelings—too many feelings—to feel all at once.
I let him pull me down to the bed, let his arms hold me close, and let myself pretend that this is what it’s going to be like forever.
We stay like this for the longest time, until there’s a lube bottle cold and pressing into his hip, and we have to throw it offside before we find ourselves in a fit of giggles.
When we settle, Noah lays on his back, and I curl into him.
He pulls our current read off the nightstand table and he reads to me, until all that remains is the feeling of the kiss he pressed to my forehead and the world fades away until it’s only us.