Chapter 7 Serra
Serra
And just like that I was back on the campus at Cheyney, in Noah’s apartment. The memory came so stark and clear it took my breath away.
“You owe me,” he said, his lips right up to my ear as he stood behind me. That wasn’t the only part of his body touching mine. His hard dick was pressed into my ass, jumping with each word he spoke.
“Owe you what?” was my response.
“Everything,” he replied. “I want everything from you, sweetness. Every fuckin’ thing.”
I acquiesced to that response, giving him orgasm after orgasm, coupled with declarations of my love for him and my commitment to us. “No matter what,” I whispered while he slow stroked me to my fourth or fifth release.
To an outsider that scene might’ve looked as if it skated along the line of dubious consent when, in actuality, I’d loved every one of his rough commands and his determination to follow through even when I couldn’t find the words to respond.
I’d enjoyed every second of pain he inflicted and quickly followed up with intense pleasure.
I’d experienced this with Noah before, but never at this level, never to the point where we were each left emotionally bare and physically depleted.
I loved him back then, with every ounce of my soul.
Tonight, as his simmering dark gaze held mine, his hands flattened against the door on either side of my face and his heart beat rampant against mine, I fought the sinking suspicion that even after all this time those feelings hadn’t abated.
“What…” The word came out way too softly. I didn’t want to be soft in this moment. I couldn’t be. Lifting my chin and ignoring my hardening nipples, I tried again. “What…do I…owe you?”
His brow furrowed; eyes narrowed as for just a few seconds he appeared confused.
Noah, the smart, unwavering, pillar of strength I often drew from whenever issues with my family got too overwhelming to ignore.
The man who taught me how to properly work out in the gym, who earnestly complimented me and helped me to believe in who I was, who I could become.
“You showed up here, in my place, looking like that,” he practically growled.
I knew this Noah, recognized the explosive rage banked in his eyes, the tension that almost visibly vibrated off his body.
“And in the first few minutes you had not one, but two, men panting after you.” He inhaled deeply and brushed his nose against mine. “You know how I fuckin’ feel about anybody getting close to what’s—”
“I’m not yours anymore,” I hurriedly whispered the lie.
My body would always belong to him. I knew that and so did he.
The struggle to break free of this man’s hold on my heart and soul had been a long and painful one but I’d done it.
Every day after our breakup I’d gotten up, gone to class, passed one test after another.
I finished grad school, went on to law school and did a rinse and repeat of going to class, studying, passing one test after another.
In between that monotonous schedule, I ate, exercised, smiled when I was expected to and cried in my pillow at night.
I used every tool I recalled from my brief stint in therapy during my freshman year.
When my father got wind of my attempt at healing—via statements from the insurance company finally making their way to his desk—he quickly put a stop to what he deemed foolishness.
“There’s nothing wrong with you that hard work won’t fix,” he’d said in that disappointed and disgusted tone he often used with me.
But I remembered to breathe and to write down my feelings.
I went through dozens of journals in the eighteen months after Noah and I parted.
Laying all my feelings bare for the paper.
And in the years that followed I found the courage to open myself up to dating again, to allow the physical intimacy that my body craved.
None of that mattered, not now that I was in his presence.
His lips brushed my cheek, and he sighed. “I’ve never been able to accept that,” he said, and my eyes closed.
My hands were fisted at my side, body trembling with need while my mind struggled to find the sense I thought I had before coming here. “You have to accept it,” I said. “We both do.”
His teeth nipped the line of my jaw once, then twice, sending bolts of heat shooting down my neck and torso to land square in my center. I clenched my thighs.
“Why?” he whispered, his breath warm over my neck as he nestled his face there. “I didn’t ask you that before.” Another kiss, then a swipe of his tongue that left me gasping. “I should’ve asked that before.”
I bit my bottom lip, my eyes fluttering as I tried to keep them open.
Fighting for calm, I swallowed. “It wouldn’t have mattered then, and it doesn’t matter now,” I told him honestly.
It was part of what I planned to say during our “talk”.
I did what I thought was best back then, and while a part of me regretted that I made a decision based on my family’s directives and not my own volition, another part of me recognized that I might not have the career and life I did now if Noah and I had stayed together.
“This,” closing his teeth over my neck, he bit down, “is all that matters now.”
I yelled with the sharp pain that was quickly followed by pleasure that made me shiver when he licked the spot he’d just bitten. Desperately needing to cling to something, I flattened my palms against the door. To ground myself in some way before I completely fell for this man…again.
“No,” I whimpered as tears pricked my eyes. “No, Noah.”
He stilled over me, but didn’t pull back.
His mouth was at my ear then, as he pressed his body into mine, harder, with a solemn persistence that barely left me room to breathe.
He felt the exact same. The brute strength that I craved, the warmth that I desired, the safety I needed.
It was all here, again, as if it had never left, and I simultaneously wanted to weep with joy and run from the unbelievable fear steadily snaking its way through my chest.
“No, what?” he asked, then swiped his tongue along my lobe.
“No, you don’t want to talk about why you tore apart all that we’d built?
” His dick was hard against my stomach. The scent of his cologne filled my nostrils.
Somewhere in the back of my mind I could hear the music, knew there was a restaurant full of people just beyond this door, but I didn’t care.
Couldn’t care about any of that right now.
I had to focus on surviving this moment with this man.
He knew I was struggling to remain focused, to remain staunch in my refusal to let the physical connection we’ve always had overtake the most logical remedy to this situation.
Which is what exactly? In the seconds I contemplated that question, Noah moved one hand from the door and pressed it to my neck.
“I could remind you,” he dragged his tongue over the skin just behind my ear, “like you’re reminding me right now of how good you taste.” He flexed his fingers at my neck as if he was really grappling with the idea of choking me the way he had so many times before.
In response, my pussy pulsed with need, arousal dampening my folds and subsequently the seat of my panties.
The dress I wore today was much shorter than the one I was wearing when we were locked in that elevator.
It was a halter style, fitted down to my waist where the bottom half was pleated like a schoolgirl’s uniform.
I’d already been clenching my thighs together so feeling the moisture on them as well was no surprise.
He inhaled deeply, then released. “Your scent… Fuck! I can’t get that perfume out of my head.” He licked me again and again. “But the taste of you…summery and scintillating.”
I could hear his words but shit, the warmth of his tongue and the deep huskiness of his voice were wreaking havoc on my senses.
I wanted him to tighten his fingers at my neck and to continue licking at my ear…
biting me too. I wanted his words to grow raunchier, to give me commands and to announce the punishments when I didn’t acquiesce to them.
I wanted his hands on me, his mouth, his tongue.
I wanted his dick buried deep inside of me.
Because then I would know for sure. I would know… what?
“Noah,” I whimpered.
“What’s my name, sweetness?” he demanded. “Say my fuckin’ name and stop playing with me the way you were out there.”
His fingers did tighten around my throat then. Not so much that it cut off my air or prevented me from speaking, but enough so that my back arched away from the door pressing my breasts farther into his chest.
“Yeah, that’s right,” he murmured and groaned. “Say it! Damn you, say it!”
He closed his teeth over my lobe and bit down until I gasped. Sparks of desire shot straight to my pussy, and I fisted my hands, slamming them into the door. “Dammit, Jordan.” I heaved; my eyes fluttering. “Jordan,” I whispered again. “Jordan.”
Some men preferred Daddy or even Sir, but from the first time I’d yelled, “Fuck you, Jordan!” when we were in the gym and he was taunting me through the remaining twenty squats I had in my set, Noah had been turned on.
His eyes had grown dark that day and I thought he was going to abandon the workout, push me into the hallway and fuck me right in the stairwell.
I wouldn’t have put up a fight if he had, not at all.
“Yesss, sweetness,” he said, once again burying his face in my neck. “Yessss.”
His free hand slid down to my shoulder where he squeezed before continuing its trek down my arm. Each brush of his skin over mine twisted me into a tighter knot, wringing out every ounce of resistance I had to him in the process.