“Wait. I just need a moment because my ego won’t survive if I come before you,” he says through gritted teeth, and the words come out muffled by the effort of trying not to lose it. The man is literally choking on his own pride, and the revelation is so ridiculously charming I can’t help it—I burst out laughing, which makes everything clamp down there even harder.
Noah’s eyes fly open, wild and disbelieving, as if I’ve just performed some impossible magic trick.
“Stop, Bea. For fuck’s sake stop.”
Naturally, his words only make me laugh harder.
“Are you laughing at me?” He sounds positively tortured.
Something about seeing him like this—proud Noah King on the edge of losing control—sends a fresh wave of heat through me.
“I’m not laughing at you,” I wheeze, trying to calm down the giggles so his pride will remain intact. “I’m just—” I’m just in awe, honestly. That this is happening, that he’s so vulnerable and real with me, that I could break this man with nothing but a roll of my hips.
I look him in the eye and find an unsure look on his face. “I’m just really into you, okay?”
It seems to unsettle him even more.
“You’re not helping,” he says, but his voice is softer now as if he’s secretly pleased. “Fuck, you’re really not helping.”
I want to tell him how much I love that he cares about my body getting what it needs, that he’s fighting for this moment as fiercely as he fights for everything else, but then his hands start moving, tracing frantic circles over my skin like he’s trying to touch every part of me before the universe inevitably explodes because it’s bound to happen.
If he thinks he’s the only one on the edge, he’s delusional. I’m strung so tight I could snap, the sensation of him inside me already overwhelming, and now there’s this additional thrill that he’s barely holding it together.
We’re both balancing on a knife’s edge, and the thought of falling with him simultaneously is intoxicating. I don’t think I’ve ever experienced this before.
His hand slides between us, finding that sensitive bundle of nerves, and I nearly scream. Only the paper-thin walls of my apartment keep me from being as loud as I want to be. My neighbors definitely don’t need to know what Noah King is doing to me right now.
I lean forward, changing the angle, and stars start swelling behind my eyelids for a big explosion. Noah must see it on my face because he grins—that cocky, satisfied grin of his.
“Right there?” he asks, thrusting up to meet me despite his injuries.
“Yes,” I breathe, barely able to form words. “Don’t stop.”
“That’s it,” he encourages in a strained voice as his fingers work me with practiced precision while his hips thrust up to meet mine. “Let go, Bea. I’ve got you.”
The combination of his words, his touch, and the feeling of him filling me completely sends me spiraling. My orgasm crashes over me like a tidal wave, and I bite down on his shoulder to muffle my cry. My whole body shakes as waves ofpleasure roll through me, clenching around him in a way that makes him curse colorfully.
“Fuck, Bea, I can’t—” His words dissolve into a groan as his control finally snaps. His hands grip my hips with bruising force as he thrusts up once, twice, then stills, with a groan on his lips as he follows me over the edge.
For a moment, we just breathe together while our bodies are still joined and our hearts race in tandem. I carefully lower myself off him and lie down next to him, throwing my leg over his hips, trying to be mindful of his injuries even in my post-orgasmic haze. His arms instantly wrap around me, settling in the grooves of my body as if he’s been doing it for years.
“Holy shit,” I whisper against his neck, feeling his pulse beneath my lips.
His chest rumbles with a laugh that turns into a wince. “I think I might need a hospital now.”
“You’re not serious,” I say, but I’m already scrambling for my phone I left somewhere between the sheets. “Wait, are you serious? Should I call an ambulance?”
“No.” His hand catches my wrist, pulling me back against him. “I was joking. Mostly.”
“Mostly?” I prop myself up on my elbow to study his face in the dim light. His eyes are clearer now, more focused than they’ve been all night, but there’s still pain etched in the lines around his mouth.
“The orgasm was worth a few broken ribs,” he says with that insufferable smirk that usually makes me want to throttle him. But right now, it just makes me want to kiss him again.
“Your ribs aren’t actually broken, are they?” Panic creeps into my voice as I realize we just had rather intense sex while he’s seriously injured.
“Bruised, not broken.” He shifts slightly, testing his range of motion with a grimace. “Though I might have aggravated them a bit.”
“A bit?” I gesture at the fresh bruises already darkening on his torso. “Noah, we shouldn’t have?—”
