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It was the last coherent thought she had. At least for the next five minutes.
He moved like sunlight, bringing heat to her flesh, his erection pressed against her backside. Banding his arm around her waist, he put his teeth to her throat and bit down, hard, giving life to her brief fantasy. When she gasped and arched, he used the movement to slip the button of her jeans and tunnel down. He captured her clit over the silk of her panties, providing a friction that had her writhing, all the desire she'd suppressed last night surging against his hand.
"Fuck, your clit's so swollen, so needy. You should have let me take care of that for you." He muttered it against her throat and bit her again, sucking hard, making her shudder at his obvious marking. He'd taste the salt of her perspiration from their exertions, the flavor of her skin beneath. The smooth metal of the tongue piercing slid along her carotid, the unexpected sensation intensifying everything else.
He brought his other hand over her shoulder, across her chest, clever fingers sliding into her left bra cup to cradle her flesh. He stroked the full curve all around the nipple, but not actually making contact until all the nerve endings in the peak were vibrating and begging for it. She'd never been handled with such care and skill. If either Guy or Amos had known how to do this, she might have considered her time with them far less of a waste.
But this was about more than skill. You had to care about someone, think they were the most special thing on earth, to touch them like this. As crazy as it was, with every caress he made her believe that.
As he stroked her through the panties, she was rotating her hips against him, her arousal increasing at a rate she couldn't contain. He growled in response. He knew just how to stroke her cunt, how to circle, pinch and tease at the right moments, in the right places. He was a quick learner, adapting and recognizing what would pleasure her the most.
"Noah..."
He slid his hand from her breast to her throat, holding her against his bare upper body, her pulse crashing against his palm as he stroked her there, put his mouth beneath his grip, teased and bit again, even as his other fingers pulled on her clit, plucking at it, tapping it, an excruciating technique that had her hips beating against the counter and thrusting back against his cock, trying to get more. She felt the rise of the climax, taking her toward a sweet freefall.
Their movements and the pressure of his forearm had brought her jeans halfway off her hips. In an impatient, uncoordinated move, she pushed them down, out of the way, and groaned as the hard bar beneath his jeans pressed intimately between her cheeks. She wanted his fingers inside her. She never wanted that. She wanted...
The orgasm hit her, unexpected, no time for her to grab anything in her mind to stop its hurtling force. She shrieked as he kept up that same crazy light patter rather than a strong milking stroke. Only when she thought she was on the downside of the climax did he adjust to a clamping, squeezing touch, catapulting her into the clouds once again. Latching onto his forearm where it was bent against her chest, his hand still holding her throat, she dug her nails into him, needing to draw blood, a desperate, needy creature, overwhelmed by what he'd done to her so effortlessly.
When she turned her head, he released her throat, pressed his mouth against her jaw. He held the intimate gesture as he kneaded her clit, bringing several screaming aftershocks rocketing through her body.
She was jerking against him, making little needy noises as he nuzzled her, soothed, brought her down slow. When she eventually released his arm, she dropped her head over the sink as she tried to regain her breath and balance. She was vaguely aware of his hands moving over her. He brought her jeans back up on her hips, zipped and fastened them. Passing his hand over the juncture between her thighs, he pressed down on the outside of the denim, sending a nice vibration of feeling through her, a pleasing finish most men wouldn't have thought to do. She leaned back against him as he adjusted her bra so the cup he'd disturbed cradled the occupant as intended.
He was still hard against her backside, and when she moved against him experimentally, he let out a short breath, a huff of a half-laugh. He didn't seem as though he planned to demand anything for himself. She should offer, shouldn't she? Yes, she felt like a dishrag, and other uncertain emotions were swirling in her, but fair was fair.
When she opened her mouth to try for reciprocal courtesy, he spoke first. "I owe you an apology. I exceeded your set time. Five and a half minutes."
"I'm still giving you a gold star on your report card." She gave a weak chuckle, then an edge of despair cut into her. "Oh God, Noah..."
"Sssh." He turned her so she could put her cheek against his chest, head tucked under his. "Don't. It's just a nice, sunny day, and we're tiling your kitchen. I know you're working through stuff. Just let it go for now and feel this moment."
She let out a sigh, nodded. "Okay."
Chapter Four
"So...how was your weekend? Did your floor get tiled, so to speak?"
Gen sent Chloe a look. "Have you worked on that one all weekend?"
"Oh, no. That's nowhere near my best stuff." Chloe nudged her. "Come on, I have to give you some crap, knowing you were spending the weekend with a hot guy. Seriously, how is the floor looking?"
"He did a great job." She was delighted with the updated look of the marbleized earth tones that had replaced the dingy white linoleum beneath. "He said he'll come back if I want and paint the walls. I think he figured out I hate painting."
"Yeah, Noah's crazy intuiti
ve. I told him he should join the circus as one of those fortune tellers. The ones who don't really have any psychic ability, but are good at reading tells. Of course, that would be a waste of his best skills." Chloe bounced her eyebrows, pure lecherous insinuation.
"And what would you know about those?" Gen tried to keep her tone just as teasing. She was not going to get possessive about the guy who'd been loaned to her by a Mistress for a weekend.
She'd told him she'd drop him off at the marina Sunday morning. He had an adult class to teach that day, and Lyda would be picking him up from there. He'd agreed, but offered to drive. She'd taken him up on that, as it gave her the opportunity to stare at him and wonder if the last two days had been an odd dream.
Despite the temptation of that embrace in her kitchen, she hadn't orchestrated a repeat of Friday night with him. Instead she'd closed her door and taken a couple of sleep aids to be sure she didn't get restless in the middle of the night and do anything regrettable. Fortunately, Saturday's exertions--tilework and an orgasm way off the charts, unlike anything she'd experienced--had helped get her to sleep.
When he pulled into a parking space at the marina, she'd exited on her side, circling around the bumper, ready to take his place behind the wheel. She found herself self-conscious before the knot of students waiting for him close by. Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, she wondered if this was the kind of farewell that involved kisses. Probably just a hug and buss on the cheek. That was okay. A hug would let her be close to his firm body once more.
He'd held open the door for her so she could slip in behind the wheel. When he closed it, he squatted and crossed his forearms on the open window. "Come to the club next weekend," he said. "Saturday night. Chloe and Marguerite won't be there, if you're worried about that. Lyda will put you down for a guest membership and I'll meet you at the door. You can just watch, and you can leave whenever you want."
"Will Lyda be there?"
