CHAPTER 39 - Noah Black
The sweat is dripping
It caresses your skin until it hits the floor, uh
Now, you're burying your fingers deeper
You're biting your lip to keep from making noise
Constellations - Jade LeMac
I hear footsteps approaching and hold my breath, my heart already racing.
“You look beautiful in my shirt.” His husky voice fills the room and washes over me completely.
Seconds later, I feel the warmth of his body against mine as his chest presses to my back, his arms wrap around my waist, and his lips brush a kiss against my cheek.
I close my eyes and silently beg for this moment to never end. For me not to wake up in some nightmare where he doesn’t exist.
“I didn’t feel comfortable wearing my clothes here,” I confess in a whisper. “It feels wrong to bring anything from the past into this place,” I explain, afraid he’ll be upset that I went through his things while he was at the office.
After the full tour of the house, the pizza arrived and we ate on the living room couch watching Paw Patrol.
The little one fell asleep shortly after eating, and I nearly melted watching Bryan carry her to the bedroom with a look full of affection.
My ovaries definitely did a flip seeing a man that size handle his daughter with all the care and gentleness in the world so he wouldn’t wake her.
When we settled her in the room next to what will be ours, I went to the bathroom and he said he’d grab our suitcases but needed to make some work calls first. But after getting out of the shower, nothing in the suitcase that Greta managed to grab from the mansion felt like mine anymore—none of the pieces represented me.
Even though I was hesitant and afraid of invading his personal space, I went into his closet and grabbed this button-down shirt, loose enough to hide my body but so saturated with his scent I couldn’t resist.
“Tomorrow we’ll refresh your wardrobe and the little one’s.” He turns me to face him without releasing my waist, keeping me trapped against him. “But at home, you can always wear my shirts—or nothing at all, preferably,” he finishes, devouring me with his eyes.
A shiver runs down my spine, so intense I have to bite my lip to keep from moaning. His gaze drops right to the gesture, and the heat that explodes between my legs betrays my arousal.
“That’s going to cost a fortune,” I try to joke to disguise the desire I feel, but my voice wavers. “I want to pay you back when I can.”
“You can pay now,” he retorts, and the words are like flames on my skin.
“And how would this payment work?” I ask, feigning innocence, when in truth my entire body is already imploding with desire.
“By letting me fuck you all night long!”
No embellishments, no hesitation, and the rawness of his words ignites every nerve in my body, reminding me of the last time we had sex.
It was insane. Wrong. Morally questionable.
Who has sex next to a mutilated body?
We do. We do.
And I don’t regret it.
That wasn’t a sin—it was an act of liberation.
And I feel like every time I give myself to Bryan, a broken piece inside me gets put back together.
“You’re so bad.” I slap his chest but smile, unable to keep up the charade. I leave the Redoubt in the past, where it belongs. “What do you think I am?”
He raises the corner of his mouth in a mischievous smile, as if he’d just won a game I didn’t even know I was playing.
“My wife!” The words come out deep, possessive, and my legs can barely hold me up. Whenever he calls me that, I feel my entire soul tremble. “The woman I spent five years waiting to bury myself in again, and who I plan to spend my entire life fucking.”
My chest tightens and part of me still refuses to believe he went all that time without having sex, but another part, the most possessive, the most insane, loves the idea.
“It still feels unreal that you stayed celibate,” I tease, trying not to show how much I love that he didn’t touch anyone else.
“For me it was real—so real I developed calluses on my hand and almost died,” he retorts dramatically.
“Died?” I arch my eyebrows.
“You’ve never heard of blue balls?” he asks so seriously that for a second I almost believe him.
“Idiot.” I slap his shoulder and he pulls me closer.
“I’m going to need five years inside you—morning, noon, and night. I want to fuck you every way imaginable,” he says, his voice dropping with each word. “Learn everything you like.”
“I like you touching me everywhere,” I let slip, and his pupils dilate.
“I think I need to show you my bedroom,” he murmurs, slowly biting my earlobe.
His hot breath fans across my skin, and a shiver runs up my neck.
“We were just in it,” I remind him, trying to tease, but my voice trembles, betraying that I want to go back there as much as he does.
“My love…” The endearment drips with lust. “I want to show you my bed and see how the view improves when you’re lying down and spread wide open for me.”
“Bryan…” I stammer, his name escaping like a plea.
“Hi, Butterfly,” he teases, his eyes blazing.
“Why do I like it when you say these things?” I ask, the words coming out breathless as his hand slides down the side of my body. “Mmm…” The sound escapes my lips when his finger finds my bare skin—no panties, and soaked.
“Because you like being mine,” he answers unhurriedly, his voice vibrating against my skin. “You like being touched by me.” His finger slides along my wet slit. “That’s why you’re always ready for me.” I close my eyes and my entire body pulses.
Every cell seems to respond to his touch before my brain can even think straight.
“Shouldn’t I be hesitant?” The question comes out more like a sigh than an actual question.
“Not with me. Never with me.” He continues caressing me, and I open my eyes, staring into his intense gaze. “And you know why?” he asks, the tip of his finger tracing slow circles on my clit. “Because your body recognizes my touch. It knows I’m the one worshiping you.”
“Take me to the bedroom,” I beg, already arching against his hand as he increases the pressure on my clit.
“I’m in no hurry,” he retorts, pressing his lips to mine.
The kiss is wet, deep, and all the while he guides me toward the glass overlooking the horizon. The contrast of the cold glass against my back and the heat of his fingers leaves me breathless.
“First you come on my fingers, then on my mouth, and only then on my cock,” he continues, never stopping his movements.
“You’re going to kill me with all this coming…” I murmur, panting, and he keeps touching me, his friction precise on my most sensitive spot.
The sound of his heavy breathing, mixed with mine, becomes almost a mantra, taking me closer and closer to the edge.
“Bryan…” His name comes out in a drawn-out moan as the wave of orgasm builds.
He smiles against my mouth, loving the sight of me lost in pleasure.
“That’s it, Butterfly, moan for me. I want to hear every sound I pull from you.”
The pressure on my clit increases and I feel my entire body responding with involuntary spasms, pushing me to the edge of madness.
“Ahhh…” I bite my lip to keep from screaming—we’re not alone in the house.
It’s almost impossible to hold back the moans with the avalanche of sensations washing over me. The fire starts at the tips of my toes and burns through every inch of my body, consuming me from the inside out.
“Look at me,” he orders, pulling his lips away just enough for our gazes to meet. “I want to see you while you come.”
“Bryan… I… I can’t take it…” I gasp, my nails digging into his shoulders for purchase as a finger slips inside me.
“Then come, my love. Come on my fingers!” The hoarse command is the trigger—all I needed for the wave to swallow me whole.
My legs tremble, my heart races, and I swallow the scream of pleasure, burying my face in his chest. My eyes roll back, afraid I won’t survive this, yet Bryan doesn’t stop touching me.
He wrings out every last remnant of my sanity and strength.
“Beautiful… Fucking beautiful when you lose yourself like that for me,” he murmurs when I look at him. “Now we can go to the bedroom,” he declares, tugging gently at my bottom lip as he withdraws his fingers from me.
I gasp when he brings them to his mouth, sucking them one by one, savoring my taste. I watch, fascinated, as desire etches itself across every feature of his face.
Bryan leans down to lift me into his arms. I stifle an excited squeal and he smiles, already walking with me cradled against him.
The dark, masculine room welcomes us seconds later.
He sets me on the bed and leans down, starting to undo his shirt button by button, but losing patience before he’s halfway done. His fingers yank at them and the buttons fly across the room.
When he sheds the garment, his eyes bore into me.
Point of view change to Bryan Trevor
Beautiful.
Perfect.
Magnificent.
Stunning.
Marvelous.
Breathtaking.
And hot.
Hot as hell!
Seeing Noah completely naked brings all the hunger I feel for her rushing to the surface—for her skin, for her body. It reawakens the monster I spent years feeding with nothing but imagination. And it’s ravenous, desperate to act on everything my mind conjured during every damn day we were apart.
The fuck at the Redoubt wasn’t enough to appease it, and I don’t think anything ever will be. Each time I consume her, the hunger only grows.
My cock throbs and my balls ache for relief, but I’m in no hurry—not with her. Before I come, I want to savor every second. I want to devour her.
Damn, this woman was made for me.
Only for me!
And I’d go back to that hellhole of a city and kill everyone just to have her beneath me. Hell, I’d set the devil himself on fire to keep Noah mine.
My hands slide along her thighs and I feel the muscles tremble beneath my fingers. I grip her knees, spreading them slowly to settle between her legs. I lean over her body, trailing my tongue along her earlobe, down her neck, her shoulders, until I reach the valley between her breasts.
“Bryan…”
“I’m just getting started, my love, just getting started,” I murmur, cupping one breast while my hungry mouth claims the other.