Chapter 15
CHAPTER
FIFTEEN
NOAH
I shift in my seat for the millionth time. It’s got to be in the millions by now. These little metal chairs do nothing to ease the relentless pressure inside me.
At my lunch with Ethan, while pretending to listen to him, I devised a plan. The silent treatment worked in proving a point—I do most of the communication between us, and I’ve clearly done the most important communication so far, not to mention, made all the moves.
I need a little more from Cade, and today, he’s going to give it.
The faculty meeting is rounding the corner on one hour, and I’m beyond ready for it to end, while at the same time, desperate for it to continue. Because I haven’t even begun teasing him, despite the fact I’m relentlessly teasing myself.
The low drone of Dr. Pratt’s voice going over department updates and budget discussions fills the small meeting room.
My skin is hot, too hot, with an angry flush crawling up my neck that I know must be visible under these aggressive, fluorescent tube lights.
Next to me, Cade sits perfectly composed, his broad shoulders filling out his button down cardigan in a way no sweater has ever been worn, I swear.
His knee brushes mine accidentally under the table, and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from groaning.
Fuck. This was a mistake. A stupid, bold, desperate, horny mistake.
The prostate plug vibrates again—low, teasing, set to a random pattern I can’t predict.
It’s nestled deep, pressing against the spot with every subtle shift of my hips.
My cock is trapped against my sticky underwear, leaking steadily, and every pulse of the toy sends sparks up my spine.
My toes curl repeatedly in my sneakers and I thank God that I chose dark wash jeans to wear today, and a shirt that falls past my waist.
I’m hard. Painfully hard. Leaking and messy and moments away from exploding type of hard. And I’m supposed to be paying attention to Dr. Pratt droning on about—what is it now? Symposium updates. This fucking symposium.
Cade leans slightly toward me. “You okay?” he asks, and I meet his eyes, and take in his quiet voice, the hesitancy lining those two words.
Those blue-gray eyes, always so calm and steady—except for that night, flick over my face, taking account of my expression.
I can smell his cologne, that same clean, woodsy scent he always wears.
The scent burned into my couch from when I urged him to let me touch, to let me bring us together, to let me show him how good it feels to let himself have what he wants.
Part of me wants to tell him no, to keep punishing him for running out the other night. But my silence the last few days has punished him enough, and the truth is, I wore this plug for him. For what I’m about to do.
To move us forward.
And the needy, aching, starved part of me is far bigger than the other part, and after a hard swallow, I pull my phone out of my pocket, from beneath the large conference room table.
My fingers tremble just a little as I open the app, feeling his focus on me, my hands, the phone, all of it.
The screen shows the control interface for the plug, vibrant waves of intensity, a live graph of the current state.
I tilt it toward him discreetly, my heart hammering against my ribs as I answer his question.
Cade’s brow furrows, and his glasses slip down the bridge of his nose as he tilts forward to better see the screen.
I bet those glasses would slide down his nose if I took him from behind, with my hand rutted up the back of that fucking cardigan, holding his head steady, fist filled with his silky soft hair.
He glances down, and I watch the exact moment understanding dawns on him.
His eyes widen and his pupils dilate. A flush takes over his cheeks, one that mirrors mine. Then his gaze drops lower, straight to my lap where my thighs are pressed tight together, trying to hide the obvious bulge.
Heat spreads through my entire body, swimming through my veins, flooding my bones, inching into every part of me. I lean over, close enough that my breath dusts his ear. “You’re not helping.”
Cade’s breath hitches. The vibration kicks up again, a deeper thrum that makes my hips jerk involuntarily.
A soft, involuntary sound escapes me—half whimper, half sigh—and I clamp my mouth shut, gripping the edge of the table until my knuckles whiten.
Sweat beads at my temple. I’m so close already, teetering on the edge, and the meeting is nowhere near done.
But god, it’s so exhilarating knowing that he knows.
Cade’s hand twitches on his thigh like he wants to reach for me.
His jaw clenches, that muscle jumping in the way it does when he’s fighting for control, like the day he struggled not to brush off Ethan more aggressively.
I know that look. I’ve memorized it. The same one he gets when we’re alone and I’m pushing every button he has, daring him to break first. When I ask him on runs, or to dinners, when I urge him to say yes to students who ask him on dates.
That’s the look. Only now, he’s holding onto control for me. Watching me.
I can’t stay here. Not like this.
Murmuring a quick excuse to Dr. Pratt about needing the restroom, I push back from the table. My legs feel unsteady as I stand, the plug shifting with the movement and drawing a sharp inhale from me. I don’t look at Cade. I can’t. But I feel his eyes on my back the entire way out of the room.
The hallway is quieter, cooler. I make it to our office on autopilot, fumbling with the key.
The door clicks shut behind me, but the relief is momentary.
I brace my hands on my desk, breathing hard, head bowed.
The vibrations haven’t stopped. If anything, they feel stronger now, isolated from the noise of the meeting. My cock throbs, demanding attention.
The door opens again.
I don’t have to turn to know it’s him. His presence fills the small space, that familiar mix of worry and heat rolling off him in waves. Not to mention his cologne, the one that now causes eruptions of desire in my belly, that spills over my skin in needy bumps.
“Get out if you don’t want to be here for the finale,” I rasp, my voice rawer than I intend.
I glance back over my shoulder, meeting Cade’s deep blue-gray eyes.
There’s conflict in them, as there always is when it comes to us.
Us. There’s kind of an us now, and I want to drop the kind of today.
“I’m serious, Cade. Last chance to pretend this isn’t happening. ”
He doesn’t move toward the exit. Instead, his hand reaches behind him, and I hear the soft click of the lock engaging. The sound echoes in my chest.
My pulse spikes. I turn fully now, leaning back against the desk.
My hands go to my belt, unbuckling it with shaky fingers.
The zipper sounds obscenely loud. I push my pants and underwear down just enough, freeing my cock.
It springs out, flushed dark and slick with precum.
The front of my briefs are a mess—wet spots from desperate leaking, the fabric clinging obscenely.
Cade’s stare is locked on it. On me. His chest rises and falls faster now, lips parted.
“Look at what you do to me,” I say, voice low and edged with something raw.
Anger? Need? Both. I wrap my hand around myself, stroking once, twice, slow and deliberate.
The night where I held our cocks together, stroking his and mine, eating up his lips and perfect moans, it all rushes back.
The plug pulses in time with my movements, milking that spot inside me until my knees threaten to buckle.
“This has been going on for the whole damn meeting. Because of you. Sitting there like you don’t know what you do to me. ”
His hands fist at his sides. I can see the strain in his neck, and I let my eyes drop to his groin, and groan when I see the way his cock strains against his own slacks. He’s hard. For me. Always for me, even when I make it hurt.
“Last warning,” I whisper, speeding up my strokes.
My thumb swipes over the head, spreading the wetness.
Pleasure coils tight in my gut, sharp and overwhelming.
I’m panting now, eyes half-lidded but fixed on him.
My beautiful blonde and his slutty little glasses.
My composed rule follower who wants to fuck me and be fucked by me.
I want him to see everything. Every way my ego and armor cracks, opening up to let him inside, and only him. “Walk away, Cade. Or watch me come all over my office floor like the mess I am.”
He doesn’t walk away.
I groan, head tipping back as the orgasm pours over me. My hips buck into my fist, cum spilling hot and thick over my knuckles, striping the floor. The plug keeps vibrating through it, prolonging the waves until I’m shaking, oversensitive, wrecked. My vision blurs at the edges.
When I manage to focus again, the sight hits me like a freight train.
Cade’s hand is pressed against the front of his pants, but it’s too late. A dark spot blooms there.
He came.
Just from watching me. Without even touching himself. His face is flushes deep red, eyes glassy with both shame and pleasure, lips parted, looking raw.
Something in my chest twists, painful and tender. I grab a towel from the shelf behind my desk, the one I keep for coffee spills and whatever else, and toss it to him. He catches it reflexively, his breaths still kicking hard, chest heaving.
“I’m coming over tonight,” I say, I command.
The assertion hangs between us, heavy with promise.
It wasn’t a question, and it’s not a plea.
It is a statement. Because if I let him leave now without more on the line, if I give either of us space to think, he’ll talk himself out of it like always.
He will find a rule to throw between us, a barrier to keep things as normal as he can.
But I don’t want that, I want more, and I won’t let him push it all away.
I won’t let him pretend this fire between us doesn’t consume us both every second.
Cade wipes at the spot on his pants, but his eyes never leave mine. There’s vulnerability there, raw and unguarded. I appreciate his vulnerability more than he knows. I appreciate him following me here, too.
“Noah…”
“Don’t.” I tuck myself away, wincing at the sensitivity, and pull up my pants. The plug is still in, still humming faintly now that the timer on the app has wound down. I’ll deal with it later. “Just… tonight. Your place. We need to talk. Or not talk. I don’t know anymore.” That’s the truth.
He nods once, slowly. The towel hangs uselessly in his hand. The locked door feels like both prison and sanctuary. I can see the questions swirling behind his eyes—the same ones that likely keep him up at night.
What are we doing?
And why do I love it?
I turn away first, busying myself with straightening papers on my desk that don’t need straightening.
My hands still tremble. The aftershocks of the orgasm mix with the deeper ache in my chest. This thing with Cade started as tension, a spark in our small office that evolved into stolen glances and purposeful brushes of our hands.
But it’s more now. So much more. I want him in ways that scare the hell out of me—his steady presence in my daily life, the way he loves rules and staying in the lines, all of it.
Tonight, when the door closes at his place and it’s just us, I know I’ll let him in further, and he’ll let me in, too, in return.
And tomorrow? He may regret it. Push me away again.
Because Cade is complicated, but I’m up for the task.
I want his complications, I want to rattle him and climb inside him, and unspool all of his dreams and make them come true.
But right now, with his cum-soaked pants and my cum on the floor, all I feel is the pull for him. The need to be with him beyond these hidden moments.
I’m already too far gone.
“The meeting's probably ending soon,” I mutter, glancing at the clock. My voice is steady despite the unease that crawls through my veins. “You should go first. Fix that.” I nod at the towel and the cum soaking his trousers.
Fuck he’s so hot. So responsive. Everything I thought he’d be, and I know there’s more of that. More of the careful unravelling I expect, more of the delicious side of him he keeps hidden. I can’t wait to get more of that tonight.
Cade hesitates, but ultimately steps closer. For a second, I think he might kiss me. He lifts his hand, hovering near my arm. The moment is brimming with invisible tension, and so much electric desire I nearly feel it crackling between us.
He doesn’t touch me but instead, exhales shakily and turns toward the door. The lock clicks open. He pauses in the doorway, back to me. “See you tonight.”
The door shuts softly behind him.
I sink into my chair, elbows on the desk, face in my hands. My heart won’t stop racing. The plug shifts as I move, a final teasing reminder of what I just did, the lengths in which I’ve gone to get Cade’s attention. Cum on the floor of the office. And I’d do so much more.
I smile thinking of tonight.