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“You’re hurt.” She pressed against his other shoulder. “Noah, what happened?”
“Not yet,” he growled.
“What do you mean not—” Yet.
He stole the words with his kiss. His lips lowered to hers, took them, sipped at the curves, and a low, male groan of need rumbled in his throat.
Parted lips tugged the lower curve, his tongue flicked over it as her own parted, to breathe she told herself. Just to breathe, not so that hot, hungry tongue could flick against them, taste her.
She felt her heart rate spike.
“Noah, are you okay?”
“Later.” His lips sealed hers, slanted across them, and ate into her with hungry, heated demand.
Sabella whimpered at the pleasure. She had lied to herself. She knew she had. She hadn’t come down here to inform him of anything, she had come for this.
“Look at how you’re dressed,” he growled, his lips moving from hers to her jaw, her cheek. “Short little shorts.” His hand slid down her stomach to cup the wet heat between her thighs, beneath the silky stretch material of her shorts. “Snug little shirt.” And she hadn’t worn a bra. She sometimes slept in these clothes. They were thin and comfortable, too thin, because the heat of his palm against her mound was making her crazy.
The heel of his hand rotated, pressed.
“You’re hurt,” she gasped. “What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Noah . . .”
“God, yes, say my name like that again,” he growled. “Tell me you want me, Sabella. Hot and wild, all over again. Pounding inside you, stretching that sweet, hot little pussy all around me.”
Her breath caught. She could feel his blood beneath her hand, his naked cock through the layer of material separating them.
“Noah, stop this. Are you bleeding?” She thought maybe she could smell a hint of blood.
“No. Trust me. Just a scratch.” His teeth raked over her jaw and she shuddered at the sensation, like little tingles of electricity raking over her, through her.
“What kind of scratch?” she moaned.
“You can bandage me up.” His voice throbbed, became deeper, harder. “Later.”
“Noah.” She breathed his name as she felt his hand move, sliding from between her thighs only to push beneath her shorts and panties to fill his hand with the swollen, wet flesh beneath.
“You’re wet, Sabella.” His fingers tunneled into the slit, slid through the slick cream that gathered there. “Tell me you want me. Ask me to fuck you.”
She was panting for breath. Pressed against the kitchen wall, all she could think about was feeling him inside her, around her.
“I want your mouth on my dick again.”
He shocked her with the blunt, naughty words. “I want to watch you going down on me, feel your mouth sucking the head of my cock again. God, it was so good, coming in your mouth like that, watching you love it.”
His finger pierced inside her. One finger, sliding in deep, rasping over tender nerve endings, as the heel of his palm pressed and rotated against her clit.
She was shaking. He was bleeding, he was hurt. She should be more concerned with forcing him to let her see what kind of damage he had done than she was with his finger, pumping, inside her.
Her eyes closed
, her legs shifted wider, and a tremulous cry left her lips as he used his finger to drive her crazy. Sliding in slow and deep, his fingertip reaching high inside her, finding that spot, that one spot. And rubbing.
“Noah. It’s so good.” She ground her head against the wall, felt her knees weakening. “It’s so good.”
