Chapter Twenty Two
Matt wasn't exaggerating, Dan's grandparents house is a mansion.
In a gated community, with two large security protected gates. The driveway is centered around a fountain that's almost the size of our living room. The surrounding gardens (or, fields, literally) are lit up and neatly trimmed, dotted with various flowers.
Even in the dark, I can tell the mansion is an old sandstone colour and looks almost like a castle.
"Jesus Christ, right?" Noah comments. "Dan's grandmother created some new type of steel cable or something. They've coasted off the money for decades."
"This is insane," I comment.
The tall walls loom over me as we walk towards the entryway. It's ridiculously big for anyone to live in, nevermind some likely old and frail pensioners.
Two large stained oak doors tower over the two of us. Noah leans forward to press a buzzer.
"Did you really used to pronounce it missing-ter-prett?"
"Misinterpret just doesn't like like a real word," I huff. "You aren't supposed to bring up the embarrassing things ever again - that defeats the object."
He's holding his hands up when Dan pulls open one of the doors, grinning at us.
We make small talk as he gives us a mini tour, showing us living room after living room, three different libraries, an indoor pool, and both a regular and an old-time servants kitchen.
It's completely overwhelming; I know I'd get lost if Dan wasn't constantly leading in front of us, talking about the history of the house.
"You're late," is the first phrase we're greeted with when we walk into yet another living room. This one has a log fire lit, with Sara and Skye sat comfortably in front of it. Chelsea is with them too, winking at me as I roll my eyes towards Matthew.
"Someone finished work late," Noah explains, gesturing back to me lazily.
I wink back at Chelsea.
There's a huge arch window that shows the black night outside, with barely a star in the sky. There's a seating area in front of it littered with old books. Huge beams line the walls, decorated with fairy lights that have been turned on.
As I take my seat on the floor next to Chelsea I continue to take in the details of the furniture that probably cost more than every penny I've ever made in my life.
"I know," Chelsea mumbles beside me. "Dan doesn't look so bad right now, huh?"
"Chels," I scorn.
She grins, "It was a joke. Sort of."
Skye and Sara both twist their bodies so they've turned away from the boys and towards us, each with a matching smile on their face.
Skye looks particularly good tonight. I've not seen her since she was hungover in our kitchen, so I guess anything would've looked better than dried vomit in her hair, but she's obviously made a huge effort.
Her dark eyes and red lipstick are making her look like a disney villain with a dark back story - not to mention the tighter-than-tight dress matched with a thick fur coat.
Sara leans forward, eyes twinkling. "Why were you late?"
I put on my best 'confused' face. "Huh?"
"You and Noah - you were meant to be here like an hour ago."
"Oh," I force a laugh. "I really did have to work late. Christmas is always a super busy time for us in marketing."
They both look to Chelsea, who nods immediately.
"Boring," Skye declares.
Is it a crime to keep Noah to myself like this? As a dirty little secret who I spend too much time with? I guess I'll never care enough to find out.
I look over at him when the girls are deep in conversation about our recent marketing campaign, seeing his eyes already on me. He holds back a smile, tipping his head back to take a sip of beer. Dan catches his attention, his eyes peeling away.
I watch him swallow, his tongue darting out to catch a small water droplet at the side of his mouth.
Chelsea nudges my knee.
"Sara asked how the living situation is going," she urges. I let her hand me a beer bottle as I delve into the most recent story of my estate agents being useless.
Suddenly I'm three drinks in.
A faint amount of light-headedness is present within me, but my eyes are taking all the focus off that for me, because I really do have a staring problem when it comes to Noah Laurier.
Chelsea keeps nudging me but its pointless. He looks delectably good - when he takes off his outer layers and is left in just a t-shirt I'm already done for, because the bulge of his arm muscles is too much for me in this state.
Not that I'm really in a state after only three drinks, but it's what I'm going to blame everything on.
Matt's fingers appear in front of me, clicking once.
"Huh?"
He takes a seat on the floor next to me, frowning.
"We're staying here tonight. There are enough bedrooms for all of us - if Chelsea wants to stay too."
Of course there are enough bedrooms for all of us, Dan's grandparents are just that rich.
"I get to sleep in a bed for once?" I laugh. "Count me in."
"Hey! If you're sick of our sofa, you can go stay in your moldy house."
He nudges me playfully. I roll my eyes at him, shaking my head when he holds out another can of beer. Something in me tells me to slow it down, that I don't want to be completely wasted tonight - maybe because of all the priceless glass vases I'm sure will be around every corner of this place.
He opens his fifth or sixth beer, lying back.
"Don't fall asleep Matthew," Skye half-shouts.
I watch his eyes cruise up to the ceiling and his lips tighten. He puts on a bright smile as he sits up and teases her in return, but I know there's nothing real behind it.
She's starting to annoy him, it's becoming obvious. By my assumption she's been trying too hard to turn him into a boyfriend and it's steering him further away. An uncomfortable feeling coils in my chest at their dynamic, but Skye's right; it's none of my business.
Even if I did get involved, nothing I say seems to get through to her.
"Did I hear you say you're sleeping here?" Chelsea asks, eyeing Matt and Skye as I do.
"Yeah - there's enough rooms. I assume it's because Noah is drinking."
"I think I'll sleep at home. I've only had a few sips and I need to be on it for my meeting tomorrow morning," she explains. "I'll stay for another hour or two though."
She hands me the rest of her drink, receiving a wide smile in return.
"I'm sad I'll miss out on the drama that'll ensue tomorrow morning though," she mutters.
"What do you mean?" I enquire, eyebrows furrowing with the question.
She leans into my side, half-hugging my waist. My eyes flit around everyone in the room, lingering on Noah for a split second longer than all of the others.
She nudges me, tilting her head towards Skye. Her freshly manicured hand is now across Matt's thigh, sliding up- nope. I look away.
"That can't end well," Chelsea concludes.
"Tell me about it," I respond quietly. "Although to each their own."
One of the large wooden doors separating us from another room creaks open, Dan entering with a large hourglass in his hands. Everyone except myself and Chelsea cheer, some standing and patting each other.
We look at each other with matching shrugs.
He places the hourglass on a dark oak table in the center of the room, with fresh flowers in a vase a few centimeters behind it. Chelsea and I stand up to join the others, now patiently stood around the table.
I can't help but notice that Skye hangs off Matt's arm, without even realising that he doesn't seem to pay any attention to her in return. I look at Sara stood next to her, but she's giggling and whispering into Skye's ear, eyes flickering to Matt every so often.
Not my business. Not my business. Not my business.
If I repeat it enough it might actually sink in.
A hand brushes against mine. Noah is stood to my left, with a soft glazed smile across his lips. He leans down, whispering, "this should be fun."
"What should?" I whisper back.
He gestures to Dan, knocking his foot against my own. No answers from him then.
Dan suddenly raises his iPad in the air, showing us all video security footage of long hallways, with 'LIVE' in bold red letters across the bottom of the screen.
Chelsea and I share another look.
"Alright, for the newcomers," Dan winks.
"It is tradition, that whenever my grandparents leave me to housesit, we play an updated game of hide and seek.
" I can't help the disbelieving smile that breaks out.
Like a circus leader, Dan stands up on a chair and holds out an arm to the door.
"When you leave that door you'll have three minutes to find your first hiding place. "
"Our first?" Chelsea echoes.
"I'm getting there," he shushes. "The twist in this game is that there are cameras in every hallway here - and this place is way too big for everyone to stay in one place.
It would take the seeker like three weeks to find everyone.
So we mix it up - every ten minutes you have to move to a different room, but the seeker has access to all the cameras.
So hide in your new room quickly, or else. "
"You'll kill us?"
Matt faux glares at me.
"Once you've been found, you're also a seeker. We tend to get bored after an hour, so if you haven't been found then, congratulations."
We draw straws to determine who the seeker is. Matt is devastated when it turns out to be him, but takes it in better stride than I thought he would've. He puts two fingers to his eyes and then points them back at me, staring down at the cameras on the iPad.
"Three, two, one. Hide."
Chelsea grabs my hand when we run out of the room in front of everyone else. Our feet hammer on the floor as everyone splits off from each other, shoes pitter-pattering and echoing around the whole house.
We run down a corridor practically as long as a car park, with no time to gawp over the deep red walls and expensive Persian rugs.
There are vases around corners as I expected, but Chelsea and I rush past them without fault.
Every drink I've had seems to have wormed its way out of my system, because weirdly enough I feel completely alert now.
It's probably quite silly, considering this is only a game, but I feel the sudden charge of competitiveness that Matt and I always had when we were in school, and I don't think I'll ever live it down if he manages to find me quickly. I hope I at least last half an hour.
Chelsea tries the handle of a wooden door, pulling me in when it opens. We're immediately enclosed in darkness when the door shuts behind us. Her hand leaves mine, her body disappearing completely.
"What're you doing?" I whisper, even though I know Matt isn't anywhere near us right now.
"Feeling around. This place feels huge."
A clatter here, a whoosh of paper dropping to the floor, a click. A lamp turns on, illuminating the long corridor of space we're in against a red curtain.
"What the fuck is this place?" Chelsea asks.
I reach out to feel the heavy velvet curtain too, walking along it until there's a gap I can push my hand into. She has to help me pull part of the curtain back before we get a glimpse of what it covers.
A ballroom, with a huge sparkling chandelier in the center of it.
"I refuse to believe this is someone's actual house."
"It's a bloody castle," Chelsea responds. "There are murals on the walls."
I try to take in all the art lining the walls, the incredible size of the room, the perfectly polished floor. My eyes are so wide I fear they might pop out of my skull.
A large static sound suddenly pounds into my head.
Then, Matt's voice, distant.
"Dan forgot to mention that there's an intercom," he laughs. It's a scene straight out of a murder mystery, and honestly, this mansion would be the perfect setting for that too. "So ready or not, here I come."
We close the curtain again, looking around this strip of staging area for anything we can hide in. There's a pile of boxes at one side of the room, so Chelsea climbs behind some of them. I ruffle up the curtain and step between the folds of it, closing it in on myself as a test.
The time on my phone reads 20:34.
Three minutes goes by. Four. Nothing happens. Nobody says anything.
"We should move soon," Chelsea whispers. "Before the ten minutes is up."
I ponder over it for a second.
"How would he even know if we just stayed here?"
"It's the principle Mads. We have to play fair. I think I saw-"
The doorknob turns. She goes silent.
I pull the curtain around my body as inconspicuously tight as I can, trying to make sure it looks natural. I think it's quite a good hiding place really, nobody is going to be looking between each curve and crevice of the stage curtain.
Footsteps enter, the door closing heavily behind them. He walks away from us, and then towards us, stopping only a few yards from where I'm stood.
"I can see your foot."
My head whips down. I'm about to pout and whine and act a bit like Matt when he loses, but Chelsea's long groan pauses my outburst in its tracks. A clatter of cardboard boxes is thrown and I hear Matt helping her up and laughing.
"This is why I should never wear high heels in mansions," Chelsea announces. "It's just plain bad luck."
"Well you lasted less than ten minutes, which is a record, actually."
"Seriously?" She huffs.
"I know Maddie must be somewhere close." His voice is determined, the silence following ominous.
For a second I expect the curtain to be ripped off me, my presence revealed to them both. It wouldn't be that bad really - it is just a game and at least I wouldn't be the person who was found first.
But Chelsea laughs.
"You think we're that stupid? She ran off somewhere else."
They bicker, reminding me of my high school days with Matthew. Chelsea has a lot of me in her now that we've been friends for a year, and I feel like I've taken on a lot of her personality too. I'm just glad she and Matt seem to be getting along as easily as Noah and I did when we first met.
Although I do hope they don't progress into whatever the hell we've become, not because I'm petty and don't want to see Matt with my friends (which, really, I don't) but because Matt is terrible with women, and it's hard enough to watch Skye - someone I've just met - pine over him.
They both leave eventually - the curtain around me not once being touched. I stay put for a minute or two to ensure they're gone and then run across the ballroom, picking a door at random.
Another hallway. I spot a blinking red light tucked in a corner, the camera pointed right at me. I smile into the lens and take off running. A few twists and turns later, I slip into a door that the cameras don't seem to cover.
A bedroom. A grand bedroom, filled with old antique furniture. A four post bed sits in the center of the room, dusty and untouched.
Possible options to hide - space under the bed, behind a plant pot that has a small tree growing in it, in what I can only assume is an ensuite bathroom behind a closed door, or in any piece of the larger-than-life furniture covered in dust around the room.
There's a rumble behind the closed door I just came through.
"Maddie?"
Chelsea's voice, but she's a seeker now. Possibly warning me that Matthew has seen me on the cameras and is coming this way. Or, also just as likely, she's gotten bored on her own and wants me found.
Either way I frantically look to either side of the room, quickly running on my tippy toes to a wardrobe as tall as the high ceiling, dark oak stained.
I pull open one of the doors, which is heavier than I first anticipated.
I have to lean my body back with the door to inch it open enough to step inside.
Another door in the hallway opens, both Matt's and Chelsea's mumbles seeping through the walls.
I push aside an array of fur coats.
"This is fucking Narnia," falls from my mouth as I fight through the faux and real furs. I feel the back of the wardrobe just to be sure, and then take a few steps forward to pull the heavy door closed.
"Narnia, huh?"
My skin leaps off my bones; a girly screech follows.
"Fuck, Noah!"
He hushes me. I blindly reach around, expecting to feel hard muscles or a bit of exposed skin, but nothing greets my fingers except more fur. I take a few steps to the left, and then a few more.
"Where are you?"
Another hushing sound.
The left wall is cold and flat on my hands. I waddle away to the right, carefully pushing my way past the coats and trying not to put too much weight in any one place on the bottom of the wardrobe.
My hip hits something solid, but I reach out and there's no wall there. In the pitch black, I feel around the general area, and touch a hard surface around half the height of the wardrobe.
"It's a set of drawers," he speaks quietly, with a rasp in his voice that I haven't heard in a while. Maybe he's had a few more drinks that I first realised.
It sounds as if he's right in front of me and yet I feel like I've search the entirety of the space.
"Climb over it."
"What?"
"The drawers."
I push yet more fur from my face - seriously, how much fur do two people need? - and hike my leg onto the set of drawers, using it to lift my body up. Noah's hands appear on my thigh, guiding me to the other side of the drawers where there's a small amount of dead space.
Chelsea and Matt's rumbling voices appear. They're in the room.
He grabs my hips, lets me shuffle towards him, and then I drop into the space.
"We need to duck down."
"How?" I whisper in return, body pressed against his in the tight space.
I conceal a squeal as he slides down the wall, holding onto me so I fall with him.
He grabs one of my thighs in each hand, spreads my legs, and pulls me onto his crotch. Before I can moan into his chest the wardrobe door is pulled open, light spilling through the coats and over the drawers.
We're both firmly tucked behind the drawers when coat hangers are pulled here and there.
"Are you sure you saw her come this way?" Chelsea asks.
"You think I'd trust you to find her? I'm checking the whole room myself. Move."
There's a scuffle.
"You know, Maddie says you're annoying, but I have no idea how she comes to that conclusion."
Matt, taking everything in stride as usual, laughs. The coats are thrown back and fore again, both of them still bickering.
I try not to think about the way Noah's nose is nestled at the top of my head, breathing in the scent of my shampoo.
I try to pretend I don't feel his dick growing underneath me.
I try to focus on their new argument at the heavy wardrobe doors, but when they shut, Noah and I are enclosed in the shadows once more, and there isn't much else to think about except the way his body feels underneath mine.
For two people who should be mere acquaintances, I sure do end up on top of him a lot.
I shuffle to stop a cramp forming in my knee, hearing his sharp intake of breath as we rub together. I thank whatever holy spirit might be out there that I decided to wear loose work trousers this morning because I can feel everything through the thin cotton of our clothes.
Every pulse. Every twitch. Practically every vein - although that may be just my imagination running wild.
"Madelaine, stop," he whispers, voice gritty. Furniture being knocked around outside the wardrobe doors tells me that Chelsea and Matt aren't finished tearing this room apart to find me yet, so saying anything feels incredibly risky.
Now they wouldn't just find me and end my hiding status in the game, they'd find me in this incredibly compromising position on top of Noah. I'm certain my face would show exactly how I feel about him in this situation.
"Stop what?" I whisper back, ensuring I keep my voice as quiet as I possibly can.
"Grinding on me."
I immediately still.
I hadn't even realised that my hips were moving in small circles, rubbing his erection against the seam of my trousers. I try to hover over him, but his dick points up towards me, following me as I lift myself up.
"Sorry, I didn't even-"
He shushes me as the wardrobe door rattles once more, but doesn't open.
I settle back into his lap and tuck my head to his chest again.
He presses himself up, holding me by my waist. I bite his t-shirt to stop myself saying anything stupid.
With the horny fog that takes over my brain, I feel weightless. It's as if we've cocooned ourselves in this wardrobe bubble that can't possibly be broken, and all knowledge of everyone else leaves my brain and is replaced by a cavernous need to feel Noah's lips on my skin.
The voices in the room are gone, searching elsewhere.
"You know what?" I whisper, breathing against his ear. He swallows. "I don't think grinding on you actually breaks the rules."
"Is that so?"
"Yeah," I hum, beginning to gently move my body again. His hands stay on my waist, pulling me forward so our chests align. "Because it's over the clothes."
His laugh in return is breathy.
"Your logic isn't entirely sound."
And yet he's still hard underneath me, letting me rub my hands down his chest and over his arms. I slip a hand underneath his t-shirt.
"It's pretty much an accident if it's over the clothes," I confirm, blinded not just by the dark but by the feeling of his abs under my fingers. His lips appear on my neck. "That's not very over-the-clothes of you."
Kisses are littered across my neck, up my jaw, and then down to the collar of my work blouse. He undoes the first three buttons, kissing where each button was once closed. Ignoring my own rule, I pull at the bottom of his t-shirt until it's over his head and shoved next to us.
He undoes each button painfully slow, still bending awkwardly to pepper me with wet kisses, and then throws my blouse next to us too.
"We'll keep the important stuff on then, yeah?" He declares, voice deepening with each sentence that passes between us. "So we aren't breaking any rules."
I find his hair in the dark, thread my hand into it, and pull his lips to my own.
His tongue immediately finds its way into my mouth, hot and forcing my own mouth open. His hand slides around to the back of my neck to hold me in place.
He pulls on my hair as I bite his bottom lip, eliciting a whimper I didn't know was in me out of my mouth.
Beads of swear form at my hairline. We're in a tiny space in the corner of what is practically a wooden box insulated with an insane number of fur coats.
There are little knots in Noah's hair that I use to my advantage, holding him as close as I possibly can, moving against him like some exotic dancer.
He brings out a side of me I haven't seen in a long time.
A forward, sexy, confident side that I used to 'put on' for guys when in seduction mode, but it feels real now.
I don't second guess myself; I didn't think twice about the 'over the clothes' comments because I knew he wouldn't turn me down.
It's incredible how quickly Noah and I have fallen into a dynamic - how quickly he's brought out this version of me that I love.
I press down as much as I can, wishing I could feel more, wishing there was less fabric.
"Underwear is all that's important, I think?"
He moans against my neck.
In an instant his hands are splayed across the back of my thighs, hitching me up his body as he stands up like our combined weight is an effortless lift to him. We fall against the side of the wardrobe, his lips never leaving my skin.
"Take them off."
I might pull the button off my trousers. I fight them down my legs in the small space and reach for Noah again. His thighs are bare. In the back of my mind I hope his boxers are off too, but my hands brush over them as he closes the space between us again.
"How many drinks have you had?" The question dawns on me suddenly.
"Five," he utters. "You?"
"Four."
Our heavy breathing fills the empty space. My hair sticks to the back of my neck.
His hand cups my jaw again, thumb brushing against my cheek a few times. He reaches down and pecks my lips before speaking.
"Do you feel okay?"
"Definitely. Do you?"
"I sobered up the second I heard your voice, Maddie. What are the fucking odds that you'd end up in here with me?"
My hands slip down his naked chest. The heat is affecting him too, he feels a little damp. I let the sweat between us help my fingers travel down his body to the elasticated hem of his boxers. As much as I want to pull them off too, I keep our over the clothes rule in the back of my mind.
Instead I feel him up over the fabric.
He's so hard that the heat radiates off him. His cock causes a tent in the fabric, pointing towards me as if it knows what it wants. I wrap my hand around him and gently pull him against my body again, spreading my legs so he can step between them.
He's thick and big and practically throbbing.
My mouth waters. My own pussy throbs in return.
I know exactly what I want and I also know that I can't have my cake and eat it too. Noah Laurier is not for me, he's off-limits because I didn't meet him first. But it doesn't mean I can't have dreams.
Over the clothes really will have to do.
I guide him between my thighs, positioning him so he's pressed against my underwear. Unintelligible sounds mix in the air as he thrusts against me, pushing himself between my legs, hitching against the pull of my definitely-wet panties.
The head of his cock, separated by only two thin pieces of cotton, presses against my entrance. This was definitely a mistake.
"Fuck," I whine, because I want - no, need, him to fuck me.
I know he'd fill me up. He said so himself. But also, I've felt how big he is now. It's unfair that Noah is this good-looking and also have a more-than-decently sized cock. Somebody is definitely God's favourite.
He pushes as if he's already forgotten that the fabric is there, groaning against my ear.
"Haven't even touched me yet," I whisper, "and I'm so wet for you."
Another groan, "I'm not allowed to touch you." Thrusting between my thighs, biting my ear lobe, pulling one of my legs around his naked waist. "But you've been making it really fucking difficult."
"You know," I whisper again, holding my body still as he pushes against my entrance again. "Technically only one of us has to be wearing clothes for it to be over the clothes."
"Yeah?" His fingers immediately wrap themselves into my panties, raring for any excuse to pull them down. My hands clasp over his.
"And I think you've been underneath my clothes enough."
"I've not been getting many complaints," he drawls, but lets me dip my thumbs underneath his boxers and pull them down his thighs. I refrain from following them down, running my tongue along his dick 'by accident' whilst doing so.
He settles between my legs again, pressing his cock against my panties, pushing once more so that a bit of the fabric goes inside me, wrapped around his tip. The stretch is already there; he groans as I moan into his ear.
My bra straps fall down my shoulders, already undone. I throw it down with our other clothes and press my breasts against his chest.
"You're so annoyingly irresistible," he admits against my lips.
"I've really tried to not fancy you, even though it seems like I've not been trying at all.
" He picks me up by my thighs once more, spreading them as he pushes his naked cock against my panties.
My head lulls back against the wood, mouth falling open with silent need.
"I haven't been able to think straight since you moved in. "
"You think I canthink straight around you?"
I've never heard my voice like this; so breathless and needy.
He continues to rub against me. I suddenly wish we weren't in a dark wardrobe and that I could see his body, completely uncovered, likely glistening with sweat because of the heat we've created.
Luckily he kisses me again so we can't say anything else too revealing.
He squeezes every part of my body as I do his, trying to commit him to memory. Between kisses his mouth travels my skin, wrapping around one of my nipples as his hand slips into my underwear and small circles are rubbed onto my clit.
"I've touched you here before so this doesn't count."
All I can do is moan in response.
His cock presses against my entrance again, pushing my panties into me.
I moan in his ear and hold onto his back, digging my fingers into his shoulder blades.
"You could just-" He presses down on my clit, silencing my words. "Push them out of the way."
"Fuck, Maddie- you can't fucking say that."
"You could- feel how wet I am-"
"Stop talking."
"Prove to me that you'll fill me up."
That seems to get to him. I know as well as my body, because my pussy clenches and I squeeze my thighs around him, ready to start begging.
"If you keep talking like that you know I will. We can't." He emphasises. "I can't just do it once. I'll want you again, I know it. I already want you badly enough."
"Then don't fuck me," the whisper goes into his ear. "Just push them aside and let me feel what it's like to be that close to getting it."
He holds me up with his hips and grasps the smallest piece of my panties at my hips, ripping them easily and pulling them from between us. Immediately his cock settles in my pussy, head at the entrance like we're actually going to have sex.
He doesn't move, doesn't dare, just holds one continuous soft bite on my neck.
A few seconds go by, my head filled with nothing but thoughts of Noah being naked and hard and so, so close to me.
He uses his grip on my thighs to pull me closer, the head of his cock straining against my entrance, almost pushing in but just not quite. I miss whatever sound he makes because I whine into his neck, wiring my eyes closed like that'll help me shut my mouth so I don't start begging him.
"You know what, your brother can fuck off," he spits. "You want me to fuck you, Madelaine? Wanna feel me fill you up?"
"Please Noah."
"Yeah, you can beg for me, can't you?" Cocky prick. "How much do you want it?"
Part of me wants to call him a cocky prick too, but I want him so badly that I don't care. I would get on my knees and beg. I'd beg in front of everyone in this house including Matt right now if it meant he'd get on with it.
"Want you more than I've ever wanted anything in my life."
It's not just dirty talk - it's not even a lie.
"Ask me nicely."
His head begins pushing into me, pulling out again before it's even an inch in.
I pull his mouth close to mine, kissing him gently, stroking his shoulders down to his arms. Noah kisses my cheek before putting his forehead to mine, squeezing the back of my thighs.
"Please," I whisper. Apparently that counts as 'asking nicely' because he doesn't hesitate to push into me, moaning in time with the gasp that leaves my mouth. I desperately hold him closer, accept his open mouthed kiss and wriggle as close to the base of his cock as possible.
"You feel so fucking perfect," he hisses into my mouth. "You are perfect - can't believe I get to do this."
I want to tell him that he's the perfect one, definitely not me, but he presses me to the wall and half pulls out, pushing in again slowly so we both makes sounds that deserve to be in some sort of sex museum.
He continues gently pulling out of me to push back in for a few thrusts. Only when I start panting does he speed up, half bouncing me on top of himself, letting one arm and the wall share my weight to put two fingers against my clit.
"You're so fucking strong," I mumble between moans.
"Does it turn you on?"
"Yes." My answer is so quick that it makes him thrust harder, pounding into me.
My head bumps against the wooden wall. "So big.
So good. So- uh." Every word I say seems to spur him on until we're rattling the wardrobe we're inside, legs bumping against everything around us, sweat dripping onto each other.
The weeks-long build-up, the perfect human being thinking I'm perfect, the stretch of his size, the strength in every movement he makes - it all builds up. Rubbing my clit is just a bonus because I could cum just from feeling him slide in and out of me.
It builds inside me blindingly fast. He's saying words I can't even hear because I'm so close that I've lost myself in every movement.
"I forgot how good you look when you're about to cum."
And I'm gone.
Fireworks explode throughout my body. My blood is confetti. There are birthday candles behind my eyes because this orgasm feels like the best party that's ever been thrown for me.
Noah fucks me through it too, because he really is that perfect. He doesn't change any movement, just sucks on parts of my skin and kisses me throughout. I feel like I blackout for a few seconds.
I'm heavy and draped over him once I've cum, moaning at every thrust that presses my body to the wood behind me.
"You feel so good," he says, voice thick like gravel. "Should be illegal for you to be this fucking wet for me."
"Noah," another moan. I've run out of words. I'm still seeing stars.
"Yeah? Turned you into mush?" He teases, breath still heavy. Little 'uh's' are lost in the space around us with each deep thrust into me. "I want to say too many things to you that I definitely should not say."
"Fuck-"
"Like, I'm still gonna fuck you in my own bed - I don't fucking care if he hears or not."
"You should," I manage to rasp between gasps. His pace quickens again, the slap of him slamming into me echoing around us. "You should make him hear me right now."
Stars. Fireworks. Rattling that surely echoes to the room adjacent to us.
He lifts my body most off and pulls it back down, meeting it halfway with his own push. My own loud reaction is like nothing I've ever heard before, foreign, as if I'm in some porno faking it. I feel him throbbing in me, feel like I'm stretched even further as he fucks me harder.
A hand appears around my neck, holding me in place.
"Close, Maddie-"
"In me," I plead. I'll get the morning after pill is what I want to say but the words are swallowed by his mouth and the pressure of his hand around my neck.
He's just as vocal when he cums. Fucking me through it too, making me close again despite feeling spent as is. The second I feel him cum - the jolt in his legs, me slipping down his body and harder onto his cock - I do too. Again.
Our heavy breathing fills the air once more.
His forehead, now wet with sweat, rests on mine. A chaste kiss is placed on my lips, and then three more following as we both breathe through the come down. Our bodies are still melted into one.
I know instantly that Chelsea's suggestion of 'one time to get it out of the system' is complete crap.
There's nobody else I'd ever want to be with so badly.
·─────?? ??─────·