Chapter Twenty Five
This is the part in the movie where they play an R rated montage of Noah and I fucking like bunnies. Carefully, as to not rouse suspicion.
There's a constant ache between my legs that only Noah can soothe.
My lips are chapped from the constant making out whenever Matt leaves a room and I'm pretty sure Noah is spending so much money on condoms that he's begun setting aside part of his wage specifically for the pharmacy.
On the couch when my brothers gone to bed. In his car whenever humanly possible. A few times in his bed, but only whenever Matt isn't home since the headboard slams against their conjoining wall.
Noah spent a week fucking me in every seat of that BMW, once in a dark parking lot with the roof down, and so when Matt got in the car the following weekend I was so overwhelmed with each of the memories that I couldn't look him in the eye without a deep blush blooming on my cheeks.
Another time in Skye's house, in the back garden of all places, while our friends were drunkenly talking about a video game in the living room. Another on the kitchen counter - wherever I can get my hands on him, I have.
Eight weeks ago I met Noah for the first time. Three weeks ago we had sex in a strangers wardrobe. Now I can't get him out of my head - ever.
Even now, I'm not even looking at the emails I'm scrolling through, I'm just pretending to. Lost in a world of Noah Laurier and his tattoos and his killer smile and his cocky dominant attitude when I don't give him what he wants immediately.
I clock watch until I fall asleep. I clock watch until I leave work. I clock watch until I can be alone with him again whenever I'm doing anything and he isn't around.
A literal obsession. I don't think I've ever wanted to be around someone so much, and I already live with Noah.
It's physically painful trying to hide it from Matt.
We've never been close but I've never actively kept such a huge secret from him, and it's beginning to wear me down.
Being constantly on edge around my older brother is not all it used to be now that I know that I'm actually doing something he'd disapprove off.
Well, I guess there is one perk that makes my mild guilt easier.
Noah sent me a shirtless gym pic three days ago and it's probably been ninety percent of my thoughts since; it certainly pushes my annoying brother out of the frame in my mind. The other ten percent of my thoughts are the last of my Christmas shopping.
It's in three days.
In - I glance at the clock - seven minutes, I'll be free of work for a week and a half, and I've got nothing planned but a long lunch with my mother and Paul on Christmas Eve. A week and a half of Christmas bliss (and trying not to fuck Noah's brains out while Matt is off work too.)
There's something about the nothingness that comes along with Christmas.
The way the world pauses and the streets are empty, houses quiet except for the jingling of Christmas songs early in the morning and the chatter of children playing with new toys as soon as the afternoon hits.
Eating myself into a coma has been the only goal since I remember spending the winter holiday with my family, Matt's goal too if I'm not mistaken.
It's an easy holiday, meant for being lazy, and that's why it's my favourite.
I wonder what Noah's favourite holiday is. There's so much I don't know about him and yet I've never gotten so comfortable with someone so quickly.
Yesterday, while I stood naked in the shower, he knocked on the bathroom door and asked if he could brush his teeth.
It was second nature to let him in but I didn't care that I wasn't wearing any clothes and he was, it didn't bother me that he smirked around his toothbrush when he got a glimpse of my thigh in the mirror. Maybe it's easy because we're already living together.
And when he got in the shower with me... my mind drifts. The water running over the tattoos, tracing them with my tongue, tracing other things with my tongue.
"Mads," Chelsea clicks her fingers in front of my face.
My screen isn't even on anymore, it's defaulted to the lock screen due to my lack of movement.
"Away with the fairies?" She asks, still wearing that same half-smirk she's had plastered on lately. "Thinking about-"
"No."
"So yes then."
I eye her, putting the password into my computer key by key.
"It's obvious you're thinking about him," she sings. I roll my eyes. "Because you haven't realised it's already home time."
"Huh?"
The clock agrees - I could've left two minutes ago. I quickly close down my computer and begin gathering everything around my desk.
"How are you going to cope in that house with him for ten days if you can't even go without thinking about him for five minutes at work?"
"He's staying with family for a few days so I guess I'll just about survive, won't I?" I deadpan.
"It's possible that might even be worse."
Ouch. She's probably right, which I will definitely not say out loud.
When I wasn't mulling over Christmas themed work I finally began to realise that Christmas itself is right around the corner.
I started imagining sitting in fluffy socks wrapped in a blanket with Matt and Noah sat on the floor watching TV together.
A Christmas tree in the corner maybe, if any one of us could be bothered to decorate it.
A few days ago Noah told me that he spends holidays with his parents, so he'll be at home for a few days in his childhood bedroom and I'll be living alone with my brother for the first time forever.
Part of me should be nervous; I'm fucking Matt's best friend and pretending that I'm still the same sister he's always known, who is good and moral and doesn't step on any toes.
We'll have nothing to do but hang out with each other for over a week and I've got to hope that I don't come across as somebody who has recently been laid, but I don't feel nervous at all. Matt's easy. He's I-don't-care-what-you're-doing-so-shut-the-fuck-up easy.
"Let's go, Mads," Chelsea sighs, pulling out my chair. "Jeez, I thought you'd be sprinting to get to lover boy."
"Right," I fret, snapping out of my thoughts once more. I jump from my seat and slide everything into my bag. "Let's go. Have a good Christmas Zach!"
He's sitting across the office looking through a stack of papers, but at my call he looks up to both Chelsea and I clutching our bags, waving at him. He waves back and goes back to his paperwork.
We practically skip to the elevator. I swing my bag back and fore on my arm, linking my other with Chelsea's.
She's talking about a guy her cousin has been trying to set her up with - a corporate guy who owns his own business and is older and probably 'yanks it to old playboy magazines. ' She does not sound impressed.
We walk through the lobby and around to the car park. Noah has started parking next to Chelsea's car so she doesn't have to walk to it on her own, and thus we only separate when she's comfortably in her own drivers seat.
He's leaning against the BMW today. A short sleeved white t-shirt clings to his body, rippling in the breeze. It's only when we get a little closer that I notice the cigarette between his lips, not yet lit.
He grins around it as I approach.
"You think you look cool?" I tease as Chelsea begins piling bags in her boot.
"I've not lit it, have I?" He retorts, putting it between his fingers instead. "I'm well aware that you won't put your lips near me if I smell like tobacco."
"Noah."
Chelsea snorts.
"I meant my mouth, Madelaine."
Chelsea winks at me as I take the passenger seat. He exchanges a bit of small talk with her while I connect my phone to the bluetooth and begin playing old 80s songs from a playlist that reminds me of my grandparents making baked goods.
I swallow the excess liquid in my mouth as he sits in the drivers seat, pulling the door closed behind himself. His chair is already pushed all the way back.
"So how was your day?"
It begins.
In her own car Chelsea is adjusting her chair, her mirrors, plugging in her phone. She's singing along to something coming through the speakers. She's brushing her hair, wiping away the smudges from her eyeliner, readjusting her clothes.
"Long. Yours?"
"Even longer," he leans his head back against the headrest.
We smile at each other.
Chelsea is reading her text messages, scrolling through social media, making a specifically designed playlist for the short drive home. She smirks at me when she notices I'm looking.
Then she puts her car in reverse and begins pulling out, still with that same smirk on her face.
As soon as he car is out of the rear view mirror, Noah steps out of the car again. I climb over the console and into the backseat just as he's getting in, launching myself over his legs as the door slams behind him. Our lips meet in a frenzy.
His hands tangle in my hair while mine undo the drawstring stopping me from slipping my hand into his boxers. When I do struggle my way past the waistband he's already hard, throbbing against my fingers.
"I've been waiting all fucking day to do this," he mutters, pulling up my skirt in one swift movement. my underwear is pushed to one side as I pull his cock out over his clothes.
"Same," I breathe, salivating over the feeling of his finger making small circles on my clit. I reach into the door of the car and pull out a condom, ripping open the wrapper and rolling it onto him quickly.
We're a mess of limbs as I slide onto him. His moan mixes with my own as our bodies collide and turn into one. I bounce on him like I've been waiting all day, because I have. There's no soft kisses because he pushes his tongue into my mouth dirtily and grabs my hips like he's scared I'll leave.
Fucking him almost brings me a sigh of relief.
I'm drinking ice cold water at the end of a very hot day. I'm getting into a warm shower and washing away sand from the beach that's been stuck between my toes all afternoon. I'm breathing in the scent of fresh flowers in the comfort of my own bedroom.
Each morning Noah drives me to work and leaves with a promise in a short kiss, and each afternoon when he picks me up he fulfills that promise by fucking me as quickly as possibly so we don't get home suspiciously late.
Not that Matt could ever be suspicious. He seems to think of me as some sort of friendless, manless, virgin nun, forgetting that I dated and had sex with men both in high school and beyond.
It's all I wait for each day, which in hindsight is quite pathetic. I love my job, but I seem to love seeing Noah's large frame stood against his car at the end of the working day even more.
Noah is undoing the buttons of my blouse. He's pushing my bra down under my breast and taking my nipple into his mouth. He's grinding up into me, reaching every fucking part of my body with ease.
"Fuck, seriously, all day Madelaine," he speaks against the flesh of my breast. Kissing, licking, sucking. "Didn't go a second without thinking about fucking your perfect body."
He says these things a lot and they get to me in the same way every time. There's a rhythm between us now. He whispers sweet things against my skin, touches me all over, and I bounce and grind and push myself down on his cock as much as humanly possible.
I try my best to get sounds out of him even though he's never quiet anyway.
"Even my lunch break was torture," he whispers, cutting himself off when I begin grinding on him once more.
My hair falls over my face and sticks to my forehead due to the humidity we've created in the car. The windows are beginning to gather steam but Noah's arm is wiping away some of it to the left of us.
My mouth opens next to his cheek as he hits that spot inside of me. I squeeze my eyes closed and grasp at his hair, moaning against his cheek. My nipples rub against the cotton of his shirt and I swear the car is rattling as he repeatedly jolts underneath me. I'm close. So is he.
I push my hands into his curls, holding his cheek next to my own.
"You feel so fucking good Noah," he moans at my whisper. "Fill me up so good."
He slows at my words briefly but continues when I whine against him. Harder, faster, like he's making up for the fact that he knew I was close.
A trail of kisses makes me stretch out my neck. I wouldn't have seen it otherwise.
He's standing halfway across the car park next to a red Ford, boot open and a laptop bag in hand.
"Shit," I hiss, trying to duck away despite the fact that I'd just made eye contact with him. "Shit, shit - Noah." He's pulling out of me, he's ducking down with me, he's panting and trying to get words out even though he was lost in the moment seconds earlier.
"What's up? What - what's happened?" He's trying to put my tits back in my bra, which would be romantic if my boss hadn't just caught us fucking in the company car park.
"Oh my God," I whisper, sliding even further down the seat. "Oh my God. Do you think he saw?"
"Who?"
"Zach," I whine, trying to peak over the back seat.
"Who?"
He's still trying to do up the buttons of my blouse.
"My boss."
His dick is still hard.
He looks over the back seat and scans the car park as I wrap my hand around it, half trying to cover him up and half missing the feeling of being wrapped around him.
"What the fucking are you doing?" He snorts.
"I don't know," I whisper. "I'm horny and confused-"
I keep my head down as he pulls me back onto his lap, still looking behind us at the open car park. When I glance, Zach is gone. The red Ford is pulling out of the car park. I'm already lining his cock up so I can get off before we have to go home.
Somewhere, deep in the back of my mind, I'm aware that this is a colossal fuck up.
Zach already does not like Noah. He's constantly reminded me about Noah's criminal record. He's actively been nervous when Noah has picked me up from the office.
I hope our work based friendship is enough for him to imagine that he didn't see that; because he certainly did. I made direct eye contact with him through the half fogged window. My mouth was dropped open in the midst of a building orgasm, my hands we tangled in Noah's goddamn hair.
Noah draws my mouth to his own and it doesn't matter.
Zach has a week and a half to get over it, or I'm fired. No point dwelling over it.
The panic is pushed to the very tips of my toes, saved for later, because Noah leaves to go and stay with his parents in a few hours and I'll be damned if we don't get to finish before he goes.