He slicks himself generously and settles between my thighs, the head of his cock pressing against my ringed muscle. For a moment I hesitate, old fears echoing, but when Noah drops a hand to cup my face, I know it’s okay.
Better than okay.
“You’ve got me,” he murmurs against my lips. “All of me. I’m yours. Let yourself feel good. And god, you’re gonna feel so good.”
Then he starts, pushing forward slowly, inch by careful inch. He gives me a moment to gasp at the intrusion, a second to breathe, to get comfortable. Then he kisses me and keeps sliding inside, and doesn't stop until he’s buried to the hilt inside me.
We both groan, and he drops his forehead to mine in a hot thunk. The sensation is overwhelming—I’m so full and he’s so big, the intimate flutter of my body adjusting to him, the delirious expression on his face, the way his eyes stay locked on mine like I’m the only thing in his universe.
“Move,” I encourage softly as he braces his weight on one hand, dropping the other to my cock. His hips rove and his hand strokes, and he wrecks me in the best way possible.
“You feel good, don’t you, baby?” he rasps, stroking and fucking, the sound of my bed nicking the wall sending hot bumps down my spine.
I nod, and tell him the truth. “Fuck, it’s… you feel so good. I’m… I can’t believe how good it feels.” Something deep in my gut burns and swells, and every stroke he fucks into me I think I can see stars, it feels so good. He pumps my cock and I have to swat his hand away, afraid to come too fast, afraid for it to be over.
His thrusts evolve from trying and gentle to deep, rolling movements that drag his cock against that perfect spot inside me. Noah’s head falls back, a low moan vibrating through his chest and he continues to fuck me, his hips making expert strokes. His hand jacks me in perfect tandem with his hips, and I cup my palms to his chest, my nails leaving marks in his flesh. Noah slows a little at my frantic clawing, and sets a tender rhythm, moving in and out of me in dizzyingly slow strokes. Every slide out of my body then back in feels like a vow, like a promise, like a whispered secret just for me.
And in return, this is me choosing him.
Claiming him.
“You feel incredible,” I whisper, lifting my head from the pillow to find and kiss along his jaw. “It's so good.”
I wrap my legs around Noah’s waist, digging my heels into his lower back as he fucks me faster now, picking up his pace again. I love it. I love the darkness washing over his features, the way I’m about to give him something he needs. Something no one else can anymore. “Harder, Noah. Let go. I can take it. I want it.”
Our eyes lock. Noah places his thumb over the freckle on my throat, fucking me hard while his voice remains tender. “This little freckle.” My eyes roll closed, enjoyingthe overwhelming feel of him inside me, giving pleasure, taking it, becoming my everything. “Fuck, you feel so good, Cade, I’m… I’m close.” He fucks me deeper, his thrusts more purposeful now as he nears the edge. The wet sound of our bodies meeting fills the room, mingling with rain against the windows. The night is romantic and beautiful and if I look down and see him disappearing into me, if I glance down and see that inked wrist and that beautiful hand stroking my cock, I’ll come.
Instead, I buy as much time as I can, and watch his face, mesmerized. The way his lips part on a silent cry when he angles himself just right. The flush creeping up his neck. The trust and pleasure shining in his half-lidded eyes, echoing the exact expression on my face. This powerful, experienced man is falling apart for me, because of me, and the realization sends a fresh wave of heat through my veins.
“Close,” I pant. “Don’t stop—fuck, Noah?—”
I come moaning his name, my cock in his hand, pulsing white hot release over his fingers and between our stomachs. My ass clenches all around him as pleasure erupts from inside me, my release still abundant in waves. Pleasure coils tight at the base of my spine, like I’ve never experienced. Noah stills, dropping his chest to mine, burying his face in my neck as he follows me, spilling inside me in long, shuddering pulses. The intensity leaves us trembling, my vision whiting out as I press my face into the curve of his neck.
We stay locked together for long moments, breathingeach other in. He softens slowly inside me, but we’re both reluctant to pull away from the intimacy. When he finally does, he gets a warm washcloth from the bathroom and takes his time cleaning us both up. Noah watches me the whole time, eyes soft with something deeper than satisfaction.
“Come here,” he murmurs, falling into my bed before tugging me down into his arms.
I settle against his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart beneath my ear. The rain has softened to a gentle patter. In the quiet aftermath, something profound settles over me, a realization that’s been hovering at the edges of my consciousness for weeks, finally given space to bloom.
For years, I kept a room inside myself closed off. Barricaded. I told myself it was empty, that there was simply nothing there worth opening. A hollow space. A missing piece. I wandered through life convinced I was built differently, incomplete, watching others connect in ways I believed I never could.
But it was never empty.
It was waiting.
Waiting for the right key. For the man who would stand in the rain and read my worth aloud like fucking poetry. For Noah—patient, charismatic, devastatingly kind—who saw the locked door and didn’t force it, but coaxed it open with every gentle touch, every reassuring word, every shared laugh over coffee or emails in our office.
Tears prick at my eyes. I turn my face into his neck,breathing him in. “I spent so long thinking that part of me was broken,” I whisper. “But I wasn’t broken. I was just… waiting for you.”
Noah’s arms tighten around me, one hand stroking slow circles over my bare back. “God, Cade.” His voice is thick with emotion. “I love you.”
I lift my head to meet his gaze. “Thank you for tonight.”
A slow smile spreads his perfect lips. “For fucking you?”
My cheeks get pink but I embrace it. “No, I mean yes, thank you for that but… I meant, for reading what you wrote about me years ago. I needed that. And I’m sorry for the silence for the last five days, for running when I should’ve stayed to talk. I got lost comparing myself to your past, I guess, and to everything I thought I should already be.”
“You don’t have to be anything but you,” he says softly, thumb brushing my cheek. “And not to be a total cornball but you make me feel like the luckiest person alive every time you trust me with your body and heart.”
