Chapter 28 #2
Our eyes lock. Noah places his thumb over the freckle on my throat, fucking me hard while his voice remains tender.
“This little freckle.” My eyes roll closed, enjoying the overwhelming feel of him inside me, giving pleasure, taking it, becoming my everything.
“Fuck, you feel so good, Cade, I’m… I’m close.
” He fucks me deeper, his thrusts more purposeful now as he nears the edge.
The wet sound of our bodies meeting fills the room, mingling with rain against the windows.
The night is romantic and beautiful and if I look down and see him disappearing into me, if I glance down and see that inked wrist and that beautiful hand stroking my cock, I’ll come.
Instead, I buy as much time as I can, and watch his face, mesmerized.
The way his lips part on a silent cry when he angles himself just right.
The flush creeping up his neck. The trust and pleasure shining in his half-lidded eyes, echoing the exact expression on my face.
This powerful, experienced man is falling apart for me, because of me, and the realization sends a fresh wave of heat through my veins.
“Close,” I pant. “Don’t stop—fuck, Noah—”
I come moaning his name, my cock in his hand, pulsing white hot release over his fingers and between our stomachs.
My ass clenches all around him as pleasure erupts from inside me, my release still abundant in waves.
Pleasure coils tight at the base of my spine, like I’ve never experienced.
Noah stills, dropping his chest to mine, burying his face in my neck as he follows me, spilling inside me in long, shuddering pulses.
The intensity leaves us trembling, my vision whiting out as I press my face into the curve of his neck.
We stay locked together for long moments, breathing each other in.
He softens slowly inside me, but we’re both reluctant to pull away from the intimacy.
When he finally does, he gets a warm washcloth from the bathroom and takes his time cleaning us both up.
Noah watches me the whole time, eyes soft with something deeper than satisfaction.
“Come here,” he murmurs, falling into my bed before tugging me down into his arms.
I settle against his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart beneath my ear. The rain has softened to a gentle patter. In the quiet aftermath, something profound settles over me, a realization that’s been hovering at the edges of my consciousness for weeks, finally given space to bloom.
For years, I kept a room inside myself closed off.
Barricaded. I told myself it was empty, that there was simply nothing there worth opening.
A hollow space. A missing piece. I wandered through life convinced I was built differently, incomplete, watching others connect in ways I believed I never could.
But it was never empty.
It was waiting.
Waiting for the right key. For the man who would stand in the rain and read my worth aloud like fucking poetry.
For Noah—patient, charismatic, devastatingly kind—who saw the locked door and didn’t force it, but coaxed it open with every gentle touch, every reassuring word, every shared laugh over coffee or emails in our office.
Tears prick at my eyes. I turn my face into his neck, breathing him in. “I spent so long thinking that part of me was broken,” I whisper. “But I wasn’t broken. I was just… waiting for you.”
Noah’s arms tighten around me, one hand stroking slow circles over my bare back. “God, Cade.” His voice is thick with emotion. “I love you.”
I lift my head to meet his gaze. “Thank you for tonight.”
A slow smile spreads his perfect lips. “For fucking you?”
My cheeks get pink but I embrace it. “No, I mean yes, thank you for that but… I meant, for reading what you wrote about me years ago. I needed that. And I’m sorry for the silence for the last five days, for running when I should’ve stayed to talk.
I got lost comparing myself to your past, I guess, and to everything I thought I should already be. ”
“You don’t have to be anything but you,” he says softly, thumb brushing my cheek. “And not to be a total cornball but you make me feel like the luckiest person alive every time you trust me with your body and heart.”
We kiss again, cocks stirring, full of promise of more. Noah rolls us so I’m on my back, settling over me with that smile that makes me all weepy inside.
“My turn,” he murmurs.
He traverses my body with his mouth, slow and worshipful, until I’m hard and aching again. When he sinks down onto me, taking me deep in one smooth glide, we both moan at the connection. This time he rides me with unhurried rolls of his hips, hands braced on my chest, eyes never leaving mine.
We move together like that for long, perfect minutes, every thrust tender and reaffirming. I grip his hips, guiding him, marveling at the way his body takes me so beautifully. When we come again, it’s soft and shared, less urgent, less panicked, our mouths fused, bodies trembling together.
Afterward, we lie tangled in the sheets, limbs heavy with satisfaction.
Noah used the same washcloth to clean us up, but this time returned with water and popcorn.
He turns on the TV and outside, the rain starts up again.
We watch the news, cuddle, while Noah’s fingers trace idle patterns on my chest.
“I love you,” I tell him quietly.
He nestles closer, pressing a kiss over my heart. “I know.”
Outside, the storm eases. Inside, wrapped in the man who refused to let me hide, I finally feel whole.