Chapter Thirty Three
My alarm blares at seven thirty on the dot.
The smell of Thai food hits my nose, an empty wine bottle clunks on the carpet when I throw out my arm, and my hair is stuck to my forehead in clumps.
It takes three attempts to press snooze. The second my head hits the pillow another alarm goes off, this one at the other end of the bedroom. Noah's phone. I lift myself up and eye it's position on the carpet near the door.
Wow. We really did a number on this room last night.
There are clothes strewn all over the floor, empty food boxes discarded around the bed, a very distinct smell of sex lingering on every piece of visible fabric. How did we pull the duvet cover off?
Probably the wine.
I flop back onto the bed, ignoring the alarm that continues to sound over and over. My hair peels away from my forehead in one clump, but before I can begin to fix that situation, arms snake around my shoulders and a body presses against my own.
"Hi," he breathes, into my matted hair, into my soul.
"Hi," I repeat.
Noah throws one leg over to the of mine and tightens his hold on me, kissing down the length of my naked shoulder.
"You alarm is going off."
"I've got ears."
"Prick," I hiss, but snuggle into his hold nonetheless. More kisses along my neck, his body caging my own like he's trying to fold me into his chest and take me to work with him.
I tilt my head back and accept his open mouthed kiss.
One finger appears on my stomach. An involuntary shiver - which should not happen, because we had sex four times last night.
Once in the middle of the night after we'd both fallen asleep.
I woke up in a similar situation to this one, with Noah's hands on my waist and something pressing into my back.
The second I turned over and kissed him he was inside me, holding my left leg up against my chest.
My pussy clenches at the thought. A hot flush prickles to break out over my entire body and my nonexistent abs clench under his touch.
That one finger drags up to my chest and then traces the line under my breast. I swallow the liquid that suddenly appears in my mouth and reach back to touch him too. Anywhere I can get my hands.
Anywhere turns out to be his hip, which my nails instantly dig into.
"You look pretty in the morning," Noah rasps, against the skin below my ear.
I twist in his arms, my brow furrowing as we meet eyes.
He immediately breaks out into a smile. I do not look pretty right now.
I'm slightly wine-hungover, which usually means there's mascara rubbed around my eyes and a particularly lovely morning crust around my lips.
My hair is in tatters, matted like I was fucked into a mattress four times - which, well, I was.
Point being: this is not the usual put-togetherness that Noah is used to from me in the morning, and is certainly not the greatest I've ever looked.
(Although I'm sure it's also not the worst. That fucking work party.)
My face is a still picture of disbelief in contrast with his smile.
"Alright," he hums. "You look fucked - which, to me, is very pretty."
"Funny."
"Think I'm lying?"
I eye him.
Another smirk. "I'm offended. You look like a fucking picture, all sex-hair and big innocent eyes, and I'm supposed to what? Not want to fuck you again?"
His words go straight between my legs; not that I let that show on my face.
"I have work."
He tries not to laugh.
"She has work." His eyes roll. "Let me take you to work then, angel."
He looks serious enough, like he'd get up and get dressed and drive me innocently to the office without another word. But I see the glint in his eye as he rolls away from me on the bed and folds his arm over his head. Muscles bulging.
I lie next to him and stare at the ceiling.
"What're you waiting for now, your highness?"
"Like I'm supposed to walk to the shower?" I ask.
With barely a chance to eye him in all of his naked body, I'm swooped up bridal style in a heartbeat and baring all to him as he stands up next to the bed.
"Definitely way too pretty to walk," he drawls, carrying me to the bathroom like I don't weigh a thing.
It should probably be embarrassing, the way my stomach rolls and the hair between my legs that is way beyond the usual shaving routine, but Noah's teasing tone and soft eyes couldn't possibly make me any more comfortable.
Then he tries to make me open the bathroom door with my toes. We fumble, he drops me, we laugh about it. It's the most domesticated I've ever been with someone, and we're so casually naked with each other that it's difficult not to think of Noah as my boyfriend.
He picks me up again as soon as the bathroom door is open, stepping into the shower with me placed gently between his feet.
The water is too cold and then too hot. I don't even notice. I'm too busy staring, as usual - Noah is leaning back into the water to wet his hair, running his hands through it and letting the water run down his chest.
I want to follow that water down his naval, drop to my knees and... Yes. That.
I'm pulled into the water. It cascades over my shoulders and soaks into my hair, flowing around Noah's body against my back.
Suddenly hands appear in my hair, scrunching stands and massaging my scalp.
The coconut scent of my shampoo mixes into the lemon clean scent of the bathroom. Washing my hair. Boyfriend.
My mouth works before my brain does. "Tell me something embarrassing."
Hands pause and then resume.
Noah doesn't take long to answer this time. His reply is almost curt.
"Two of my teeth are fake. Some guy punched me in an alleyway and chipped two of them - they weren't fixable, so Damien had his dentist make me two permanent crowns."
Shampoo runs down my forehead but Noah wipes it away before it reaches my eyebrow.
I don't even have to ask, because as usual, Noah predicts my next question.
"I was nineteen."
"I hope you punched him back."
He grins. "He definitely needed more teeth than I did, don't worry."
We rinse the shampoo out so I lean down and grab some for his hair, returning the favour. He tilts his head towards me, moaning as soon as my fingers touch his scalp. And then my nipple is in his mouth and two large hands are splayed out over my hips.
Desperate. My skin tingles at the realisation. He's not been shy about wanting me all morning, even after last night. I want to spread my legs just because he's being so polite about not having sex before work despite wanting it, never mind him carrying me out of bed and washing my hair.
Being so wanted by something - fuck. I push his head further down my body.
He drops to his knees in front of me, still half under the water, biting his fucking lip as he tries not to give me that usual smirk. I pull on his hair, closer to my body, closer to where I need his mouth.
He lifts one of my legs over his shoulder and dives in tongue first.
Getting through a full shower with Noah always does seem quite challenging.
His eyes meet mine ever so briefly through a few wet strands of hair tangled in my hands, the shampoo almost entirely rinsed out now. The heat in his gaze only confirms that he'd been holding back all morning, waiting for me to initiate something, hoping I would.
Fucking insatiable. Balls made of something more sturdy that steel - how he's got anything left to give is beyond me.
I've not even showered since we had sex yesterday.
His tongue washes that discovery away with one slow swoop, his deep moan alongside my own high one.
I wrap my leg around the back of his neck and force his mouth further into my body.
He's so close to my body that I feel his steady intake of breath against my clit.
His mouth is making a map of my most intimate parts; sucking at me, licking up and down, penetrating me, tongue circling through pursed lips that make me whimper. My head empties.
There's some sort of vague awareness within me that knows I'm making desperate movements. Pulling his head into me, squeezing that leg around him, grinding on his face. Slick and warm and oh, my God...
When did I throw my head back?
Two fingers start sliding into my wetness. Slowly. Too slowly.
My initial reaction is to tighten the fist in his hair, vice-like. So tight that his knee jerks against the porcelain of the bath, but he moans louder than he has all morning, the fingers at my entrance curling inside me and pressing against my walls.
On his knees, enjoying having his hair pulled. Liked when I wrapped my hand around his throat. Fucking hell. He'll let me do anything, have me in any way he can.
Let me dominate if that's what I want to do and enjoy it too.
Right now, however, I need him to fuck me against the wall so hard that I see stars.
I claw at his arms to try and pull him up but he won't move at first, licking me with more ferocity, suckling my clit like he'll never get near it again. The fingers, stilled curled inside, stroke at me in a soft rhythm that's nothing like the work of his mouth.
"Need you," I cry. My words are strangled - I didn't mean them to come out like that, so desperate. "Noah, please."
He pulls away only to order, "come first," and then is gone again. Lost in the folds of my pussy, pushing fingers in and out of me like it's his job.
No thoughts. Nothing. Only Noah. Golden brown hair, curls, deep blue eyes, tattoos.
Fuck, tattoos everywhere, dark and scary and in contrast to everything he ever does.
Gym outfits, muscles, driving with a single hand on the steering wheel.
Smiling, smirking, giving me that fucking killer grin. Noah.
"There you go."
I almost miss the words under the water. I don't even realise I've tightened around him, don't realise that my stomach has coiled and my mouth has dropped open and I'm brokenly moaning into the water pattering onto the shower mat below me. Letting go.
Noah is relentless, doesn't stop even when I'm almost crying out into the bathroom. Each sound echoes on the tiled walls and circles back to us, swallowed by the falling water.
He still holds my leg over his shoulder as he stands up and presses his cock against me, head against my clit rather than pushing into me like it should be.
I try to rearrange the two of us by shuffling, reaching between our bodies to push him where I need him to be.
"If I fuck you right now I'll come," he says through gritted teeth. I wrap my hand around his length, feeling it pulse - so ready to be fucking me. So ready to ruin me. "Madelaine."
All I can get out is a pleading whimper.
We kiss instead, my hand still firmly around his girth, holding his cock against me like it'll get me off just as is. Angled so close that if I just shifted up a little it would definitely slide right in, especially with the wetness from Noah's mouth still all over me.
Noah whines. Christ. Fuck. Whining. Because he doesn't want to come yet and he's so close just from going down on me.
"Tell me your something now," he forces out. "Distract me."
Fuck me.
My something embarrassing is not likely to distract him. If anything, I think it'll only bring him that little bit closer, and fuck, if I don't want to say it anyway just to see.
May as well make it good.
I use the water to push his hair out of his face, kissing him chastely once of the mouth before turning his ear to my mouth.
"I want to be with you. Dating you."
His body tenses.
"Fucking hell," his breathes. Then he's inside me, quickly, all at once. Still holding my leg up and jutting his hips so that mine bounce against the tiled wall.
He's so sweet I almost expect it to be slow and lovely with soft kisses and eye contact. He isn't sweet about it though. Instead, he's grabby and possessive, truly fucking me in all senses of the word. Grunting with each thrust.
There's nothing to hold onto but his skin, which is wet and slippery. My nails are probably leaving deep red lines down his back but I can think of nothing but that sweet spot being pounded over and over inside of my body.
Think of nothing but our moans mixing into the water around us.
God, he's so hard. I probably shouldn't combine those two things; God and someone's cock. It's difficult to think anything but dirty thoughts around Noah though. Difficult to think of anything that isn't so big and so good and Christ, please don't fucking stop.
My tongue drags along his jawline, so strong and cutting. Some stubble is beginning to grow there, much darker than his usual hair colour, soon to give that to-die-for five o'clock shadow.
"Such a nice pussy, hm?" His voice is in my ear, breathless, tight. "So tight for me. Take me so well, pretty girl."
"Please."
He huffs. "Please, what?" Fuck, fuck, fuck. "What do you want, Maddie?"
So good I can barely breathe, never mind get a fully formed sentence out.
"You."
Another thrust. Harder, making the back of my thigh slam against the wall.
His mouth is right next to my ear when he says the words, "you have me."
"I want all of you," I say, my words broken through each movement he makes.
"Sweetheart, you have me in every way that counts."
"What ways are those?"
He slows down, holding my waist tight and kissing up and down my neck before resting his head on the wall next to my own, still nestled deep inside me.
"You have me Maddie," he speaks quietly, kissing my earlobe. "I'm yours."
I reach over and turn the shower off.
The sudden silence is deafening.
"Say it again."
He holds my cheeks in both hands, looking at me with bright blue eyes.
"I'm yours."
I can only nod. He pushes my wet hair behind my ear and kisses me, deep and open mouthed whilst he begins to move his hips again. My back slides against the wall, my hips extending to meet his with each movement.
Hands slide down his body with ease, feeling every dent, every crease that I can get my fingers into. Every curve of every muscle, touched while I have the opportunity.
He holds me close to his body while we both finish, flush against each other and kissing with every free breath we have.
Even after he comes I still moan with each small movement made, oversensitive from the twelve hours of almost-constant sex. The shower starts up again, Noah still holding me firm to his chest as he turns us under the water.
"You are definitely going to be late to work."
"Oh shit - work! Fuck!"
Week days seem to keep slipping my mind lately. I can't think why.
I run conditioner through my hair, praying I've washed it all out once I step out of the shower. Noah tilts his head back under the water, grinning at the ceiling. I don't know what he's so about, he's probably going to be late as well.
I'm still attempting to pull a brush through my wet hair when he emerges from the shower, smelling like sandalwood and spice. His curls are already drying at the ends; he looks like my wet dream. He is.
Arms wrap around my naked shoulders, his head hovering next to mine in the mirror. I can't seem to stop the smile taking over my face.
"You wanna go again?"
"Jesus, Noah," I laugh.
Kisses along my face, down to my shoulder. Nibbling on my earlobe.
"You know I felt you tighten around me every time I spoke?" He whispers, that usual cocky tinge in his voice borderline arrogant. A shudder goes through me. "I'm gonna be thinking about that all day."
Yeah. Second that.
He taps the back of my thigh and walks out of the open door.
Late. Very very late. Still need to get dressed and brush my teeth and there definitely isn't time to dry my hair. I'll have to open the window on the motorway and hope it does the trick.
He appears again whilst I'm brushing my teeth, wearing his work overalls but only on his bottom half. No shirt in sight.
"We need to go," I slur around a mouthful of toothpaste.
"You're still naked."
I look down at myself as if I don't know.
Noah crosses his arms and leans against the door frame. "It's not too bad; waking up like this. Almost tolerable."
"Ha-ha."
Spit. Toothbrush back in the holder. Towel dry as much of my hair as possible.
"It might be nice to wake up next to you a bit more often," he continues. I pull the towel from my head, standing up straight next to the sink. He eyes me up and down. "Very nice, actually."
I knock my shoulder against his as I walk past him.
"Why would I want to do that? The couch is very accommodating."
"Yeah?" He muses. "Have I not been accommodating this morning, sweetheart?" I'm caught up in his arms again, catching myself on the banister so I don't stumble into the door in front of me. The breathy laugh behind me should be infuriating. I'm so late. But I sink back into his touch.
"I swear you're just trying to distract me so I don't get dressed."
"Ouch, that obvious?"
"Noah, we are so late."
One more firm kiss on the mouth and I pull away pointedly.
Clothes. Work bag packed. Phone - which is now dead, of course. Charger. Do my shoes match? Am I wear holiday themed socks?
Noah is the picture of serenity when I finally lock the front door behind us, as calm as ever despite it already being clock in time. I text Chelsea and ask her to come up with a good excuse as to why I'm late.
Despite his laidback attitude we fly through traffic, taking side roads only big enough to fit one car at speeds that would probably cripple me with fear if I were behind the wheel. It took us five minutes less than usual once we've pulled up to my office.
Noah leans office and kisses me, undoing my seatbelt.
"I'll be here at five."
I poke one leg out of the open door, kissing his jaw before pulling away.
"I'll miss you," I say, and then I'm gone. Half jogging to the office building and then over to the elevator.
Madelaine is sat at my desk. Twiddling her thumbs and clicking my ballpoint pen repeatedly.
"Good sex?"
"Piss off," I mutter, dropping my bag. My cheeks blaze.
She cackles. "Noah's just a doll, huh?"
"Right," I agree, lips pursed. "Why are you at my desk?"
"Oh," she grins. "Zach's in a meeting - and I'm up for a promotion."
"What?"
I finally notice my vanilla latte, sat waiting for me in front of my closed laptop. I snatch it up with grabby hands and take off the lid. Big gulps needed - I'd drink it in one if it meant the caffeine rush would hit me faster.
"Uh huh. Told me this morning that the manager above him is leaving and he's just been offered their job over the weekend. Which means his job is open, and he's recommending me."
"That's so great!" My eyes furrow. "But hasn't Mohammed worked here for like eight years?"
"That's what I said!" She replies, her voice a tad too loud. Her espresso has definitely started to hit. "But it turns out that Mohammed is leaving and Loretta is going down to a four day work week anyway to spend time with her kids. So, here I am. Next in line."
"Will I get special treatment?"
She grins. "No."
Worth a shot.
She gives me the rundown of how she has to go about applying for the position and who will have to interview her. We review some of our recent content so it's fresh in her mind, and eventually head into the oval room, going through prep questions.
The day seems to vanish as quickly as it started.
After lunch, we're all called into meetings and formally told of Zach's promotion. He's in my meeting too, smiling and nodding along with one of the higher-ups I've never met. I'm surprised at how little awkwardness there is between us.
There's talk of a huge reshuffle. Splitting into more departments because the magazine has gained a lot of popularity over the last few months and our recent campaigns have shown huge returns.
Zach mentions a TV advert team - one that I'll lead. I wouldn't be as high up as Chelsea if she does get Zach's job (which she will. The company aren't even interviewing anyone else.) but I will get a promotion overall. I'll be in charge of one whole other person.
(Is that a good idea? It's almost like being a parent, and I'm certainly not ready for that. Oh God, will I have to train them?)
Our small team of five finish the day early and go for drinks at the pub on the corner of the street. Soon to be a very-much-larger team of eight.
"I'll have a work child," I can't seem to stop telling Chelsea. "Who is dependent on me; their work mother."
"God help me," she mutters in response.
Noah picks me up at five. I'm on a high, feeling like life is suddenly coming together so much more easily than it used.
I dragged myself to work everyday in that little shared house, resented having fun on the weekends because I was too tired for it, and didn't realise it at the time, but wanted nothing more than someone to come home to every night.
Noah is even proud of me.
He pulls over twice to kiss the excited words out of my mouth and listens to me ramble on about all the developments that the company is set to go through over the next year.
There's almost a glow.
The world feels a little brighter.
Life is good. Everything is good. Noah is fucking excellent.
The facade shatters as soon as I enter the house, eerily quiet save for the glass crumbling to the floor in my mind.
Speaking of glass, there's some behind the sofa.
A smashed photo frame that's been empty since I moved in, usually hung on the wall near the door.
The nail now sticks out of the plaster, bent and rusted.
It's like a sixth sense.
I know he knows.
I can see it in the way his back is twisted against the chair at the island.
He must've heard the two of us come in and yet he still hasn't turned around because he knows and he can't bare to look at us.
Noah and I share a glance.
He's been rifling through my stuff. My bags are open, some clothes strewn about. My laptop is on the couch but I know I tucked it under the TV cabinet a few nights ago.
Bile threatens to come up my throat.
"I came home at five A.M."
His voice is so steady that it almost knocks me off my feet.
Oh, God.
Matt was here the whole morning.