27.5
Noah's hand is still on my thigh when we pull up to his parents house.
The driveway already has two cars squeezed onto it so he parks next to a streetlamp not too far away.
All the windows are closed, lights are off, and there's not a sound on the street bar our footsteps as we walk towards the front door.
"Don't look so scared," he laughs. "They're still at the restaurant."
I look at a watch I'm not wearing.
He's watching me, grinning, as I wait for him to open the front door.
"Do you always bring girls home while your parents are at work?"
"Wouldn't you like to know?"
Back to being cocky and confident. No stutter in his words, no guilt laced through each syllable, just hungry eyes and a slanted smile that tells me he wanted me in the house several minutes ago.
I follow him through the door and across the living room. He doesn't turn on a light and I don't need one - a soft light illuminates the carpet from the doorway ahead of us. We step into a dining room where a cat lies stretched out across the table, black and angry looking.
"He's got the same angry eyes as you," I tell Noah.
The cat stares at us.
Within a second I'm pulled between a strong pair of arms, my back to Noah's chest. He's breathing in at the top of my head as I continue staring back into those dark eyes.
"My dads stray," he hums. "Bites."
"His name is Bites?"
Noah's head tilts down to my own. He pushes my hair away with one finger and kisses behind my ear. Bites stretches a leg out towards us, looking away as if bored. My earlobe in Noah's mouth, my neck twisting to let it happen.
"Yeah," he responds finally, long after the question has left my head. "But he doesn't bite as hard as I do."
Blistering pain. No - not pain. Teeth. Pushed into my neck, making me stumble back until Noah's body hits a wall behind us. My fingernails digging into his arm as one of his hands threads through my hair and bares my neck even more towards him.
A shot of pleasure travels the length of my body. I can barely keep my own legs straight but find I don't need to when the hand in my hair tightens into a fist.
"Okay?" His words are a mumble but I catch them anyway. Still against my throat.
No sound will leave my mouth. I open it and close it again but that fact doesn't change. His hand loosens and my body sags against his, lining it like fabric.
His words are clearer when he asks again but his breathing is uneven. "Is this okay?"
I spin in his arms and press our lips together.
"I didn't bring my pajamas."
"I'm throwing myself at you and you're thinking about what you'll wear to bed?"
"What if your dad walks in and see's my..." I look down at my breasts.
"Your what?" Another smirk. I roll my eyes at him exaggeratedly. He tucks a loose piece of hair behind my ear and places a kiss on the apple of my cheek - which I assume is as hot and pink as it usually is under his eyes. "I'm twenty four; my parents knock."
"So you do bring girls back here all the time, Laurier."
"I'm Laurier now?"
"Are you avoiding the question?"
His retort is immediate, "you didn't appear to have asked one."
Behind us, the cat mewls.
I pull away from his arms and turn to look at Bites, who now has thrown another leg in our direction and is staring at us. I walk over to him instead, because apparently Noah is in the mood to be both infuriatingly hot and infuriatingly difficult.
Bites, who is not aptly named, curls his head into my outstretched hand as soon as I offer it to him. I scratch behind his ears and ignore Noah's looming presence at the wall where I left him.
Well. I try to ignore it.
His eyes bore into the side of my face. My cheeks continue to burn craters into my face and my legs still feel shaky holding up my body, but the cat appreciates the attention at least.
I glance once, quickly.
Fuck.
One quick scan of his body. Hair ruffled. Eyes dark and lost somewhere - not on my face, further down my body. Arms crossed. Desire for me pressing against the shorts he's wearing.
"Something on your mind?"
He looks me up and down once more, hums.
"Are you going to tell me what it is?"
A shuffle.
"I'm wondering if that table would break if I fucked you on it." And then, like he didn't just reach into my lungs and take the breath from them, "it's kind of old."
I don't know how I manage to make the words leave my mouth.
"I don't think Bites would appreciate that."
Noah holds a hand out towards me and leads me out of the room once I've taken it. Through another door is the stairway, pictures lining each side of the walls as we ascend.
I can't look away from the back of his head as we go, finally entering what must be his childhood bedroom. The bed is a single - grey sheets, gray walls, everything hidden away. It's obvious that cool teenager Noah did not want to be seen as having a personality.
I don't take the time to look around. I allow myself to fall on top of him as he lies back on the bed, framing his waist with my thighs. His hands almost cover the entirety of my face as he pulls my lips towards his.
Clothes are coming off. Being discarded and strewn across the floor as if we'll never need them again.
There's a chill in the room that we heat with our bodies.
Noah's desperation almost isn't lucid; his cloudy eyes and grabby hands are all over me, drinking me in, pulling me in, swallowing me. I've not seen him like this yet, so needy and so obvious about it.
It's probably why, instead of taking off my underwear, he just pushes it aside and pulls me up his body.
I'm a mixture of a sudden onslaught on emotion - eager, searing, a little self-conscious.
Wondering if I showered today but forgetting that thought as soon as his hands are pulling my legs tight around his cheeks, effectively burying his face between my thighs.
My grip on the headboard is vice tight when his tongue forces it's way straight into my wetness. The wanton sound he makes is another one I've only heard a couple of times, vibrating through my body like music.
I bet he's deliriously hard. The thought makes my eyes flicker, makes me want to lean back and wrap my hand around him to check. My thighs are held firm in place, his fingers digging into them so harshly it could bruise; I hope it does.
It's like he wants to bury himself inside me.
His tongue is all over me, in me, sending me into a frenzy.
I'm vaguely aware that I'm crying out and tipping my head back, my own fingernails probably digging into him too, but he continues sucking on my clit until desperation overtakes me and I rock down onto his mouth.
Another guttural desperate sound - his hands eagerly rocking my hips for me until I do it myself.
I worry I'm suffocating him. (What a way to go, I'm sure.)
I lift up ever so briefly and he whines, all high pitched and so unlike the usual cool, collected image of him that I'm used to. It distracts me enough that I don't grind back down immediately.
"Don't be shy," he murmurs, kissing each lip of my vagina like he's waiting for me to catch my breath. "Ride my face. Fuck yourself on me - need to feel you cum on my mouth."
He makes filthy words sound sweet.
Holding my underwear aside with one thumb I let him pull me back down.
I'm not sure which heavens aligned themselves to have this man enter my life but I am incredibly thankful for them. I'm thankful as I lean forward, breasts spilling out of my bra, and with his tongue still buried deep inside me Noah reaches up with one hand and plays with my nipple.
I'm especially thankful when I manage to open my eyes and see his own staring back at me through the blur, pupils blown so wide that the the iris is barely any colour but black. As if I'm not already undone above him, he has the audacity to fucking wink at me.
The feeling that follows brings tears to my eyes. I feel like I'm dripping into him and he's ravenously taking anything I'm willing the give. That wink replays over and over in my mind. My fingers shake, the building pressure unfurls, and I throw back my head as I let go.
He squeezes my thighs as I do.
Within seconds I'm flipped over. He's pulling down his boxers down over his cock, just enough so he can pull it out, and I'm melting into the bed wondering what holy thing just happened to me.
A small nod from me and he's inside; all the way inside, hips stuttering just to make sure.
Noah's words are hissed, "Jesus fucking Christ."
"You feel so - so good," I whisper through a moan. My eyes are squeeze shut but I manage to force them open just long enough to see his arms holding himself up above me. I take his wrists from under him as he thrusts once more so his chest hits mine and we dissolve into one.
"You feel like a fucking dream," his arms wrap around me, hoisting me up so I'm sculpted as a part of his body. "Doing so good for me. Taking me so well."
His skin on mine, the words falling from his lips, the feeling of him grinding into me like he's worried we'll fall apart - it all blurs into one delicious feeling that fogs my mind.
It's difficult to keep my eyes open, difficult to register the sweet things he's moaning into my ear, difficult to meet the thrust of his hips with mine.
We're kissing and getting saliva all around each others mouths because he seems as out of it as I feel, and then his mouth is biting at my earlobe and I'm clenching around him as he moans, "I'm going to fuck you into the mattress now, okay?"
My eyes flutter.
Within seconds he's up on his knees and pulling my legs over his shoulders, fucking me like a machine at a rate that barely leaves me chance for a thought that isn't this feels so fucking good.
I'm barely aware of the sounds leaving me, the uh, uh, uh's matching each thrust. My breasts do fall out of my bra now, completely spilling out over the top and bouncing with the rhythm of my body.
The headboard is slamming against the wall.
And then he leans forward, putting pressure on my legs as he folds me over like paper. Still fucking me. Still looking at me like I'm the best thing that's ever happened to him.
He strokes down my face, pushes two fingers into my mouth, and then drags that hand down to wrap it around my neck.
"Noah- I'm- I'm gonna-"
"Yeah, baby?"
Hand tighter around my throat.
Fuck. Fuck.
I'm moaning loudly and without shame when a door slams downstairs.
For a few seconds, as Noah is swearing and pulling out and frantically looking around the room, I think that Matt has heard us. I think the jig is up and we're fucking stupid.
It's worse, possibly.
Matt hasn't heard us because we aren't at home. Noah's parents, who I have not met and therefore do not yet know me, apparently are.
I squeal as Noah pulls me into his arms and lifts me from the bed like I'm not only a few inches shorter than he is.
He's still half naked, his dick is still hard standing up against his stomach, red and glistening with wetness.
The only sign that I weigh anything is the small grunt he gives me he wraps my legs around his waist. That could just be my underwear pressing against his cock though, so who knows.
"I've waited all fucking week for this," he whispers, open mouthed against the skin at my neck. "The bed can't be quiet but you can, angel."
"I don't know if-"
In one swift movement he's inside me, biting down at my neck so his moan is muffled. I can't help but cry out. His mouth is on mine, tongue pushing past my lips. He rocks gently into me, bouncing me on his hands as if he's readjusting his hold on me. I try to be quiet; try being the key word.
His muscles bulge. Everywhere I look he's flexing something.
I half moan into his ear, "still so strong."
He fucks me harder, a little faster, and puts his mouth back on my own to swallow any possible sound that might escape. I'm leant against the bed frame, which squeaks, and then the desk, which doesn't.
I lie back on books and papers and candy wrappers and stretch out my arms to grab onto either side of the piece of furniture beneath me. My head bumps against the wood but I don't care because I can't tear my eyes away from Noah.
He looks like some kind of animal. A ravished, incredibly desperate animal. His eyes are still just as dark and cloudy, his mouth open but holding back sound, and tattoos I feel like I'm seeing for the first time burn into my retinas.
His skin slaps against mine but he doesn't seem to care about the noise. I should be embarrassed at the wet noises between us, the fact that I'm biting my own lips so hard it might bleed, the bliss that I know is splayed across my features, but I can't bring myself to care.
More movement downstairs. A microwave beeping loudly. Conversation.
Noah doesn't care. He's lost in it, lost in me, and the slaps between us only get louder as I reach down and take hold of both of his hands, pulling him into my body with each thrust. He at least muffles his cry into our conjoined hands when he cums.
Pulsing, throbbing, gets me off too.
Neither of us moves for at least three minutes.
I'm stuck to a multitude of things from the desk. I feel them crinkling behind me when I try to stretch my shoulders. Eventually Noah pulls us both back to the bed. I'm floppy in his arms and happy to collapse on the sheets. Soon I'll have to get up and pee.
For now, though, I'll accept the arms wrapping around my waist.