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I quickly find myself outside his door, knocking, and the moment he opens it wearing only a towel, which he conveniently drops when he sees me, I know I can’t turn back.
He retakes me, against the wall, this time turning me around and fucking me from behind. He has the stamina of a stallion, and although I’m utterly exhausted, he finishes by laying me on the bed and giving me everything I need at that moment—slow, dirty, erotic sex.
My body has exerted itself—something I haven’t experienced sexually before. I’ve done many things, and many men, but he’s like some sex god attentive to all my needs. Previously, I had joked that I was a receiver. Selfish would be the appropriate word. Yeah, I’ve blown guys, but almost always, I want all the attention.
Yet with Noah, I want to give back.
Running my nails along his muscular, lean torso and grating his abs, his cock teases me relentlessly, standing tall and begging for attention. I don’t hold back, nor do I tease, running my mouth down his body like a marathon race until I take him all in. My lips envelop around his shaft and relaxing my back muscles, I push down as far as my throat will allow. His groan follows, deep and husky, hands messing my hair as he pushes me onto him deeper.
My body reacts again. Although sore and sensitive from where he’s been on me, my nipples become erect, the hardening, a mixture of pleasure and pain. He begs me to stop, but I’m cruel that way, carrying on because I need all of him in my mouth.
But his strength outweighs mine. And in just one move, he has me on all fours. My knees begin to wobble, tired and exhausted. He knows what he’s doing to me, but the selfish bastard doesn’t care. He tells me what he wants.
All of me.
Now.
Here.
Tonight.
And I want all of those things too. I want him to take me everywhere in this room and show me what he’s got. Lay all the cards on the table. Take me in every way he’s imagined in his dirty mind until my legs are no longer wobbling but paralyzed.
But reality has a way
of knocking the fantasy straight out of you. I know I can’t stay, and I have learned relatively quickly that Noah isn’t a patient man. He demands things and doesn’t take well to his needs not being met.
Although the hotel sits in a busy part of Los Angeles, the noise outside can’t be heard inside the four walls of this room. Dead silence, just the beats of our hearts crazily in sync with each other, the most terrifying sound you can hear. Each beat, loud and peculiar, sends chills throughout me.
Noah runs his hands along my arm, slowly warming my skin. He doesn’t realize nor understand the complexity of the situation. And now isn’t the moment, so I do the only thing I’ve learned to do around him—run away.
“I need to go, Noah, I have things I have to do in the morning.”
“Why can’t you stay?” Anger and desperation filters through his tone.
Questions. More damn questions.
Every time I try to be civil, we end up arguing and getting into a fight like we’re an old married couple. And sometimes, I purposely pick a struggle because I have no idea how else to push him away. I don’t want to hurt him, and every part of me knows that every second that goes past, I’m weaving a bigger web for myself.
“Because I’ve stayed as long as I can tonight. Please, don’t fight with me. Don’t ruin what just happened between us,” I say, keeping the sadness away from my face and replacing it with the smallest of smiles.
He brushes his finger along my lip, hooded eyes watching me suspiciously. “Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow,” I repeat, above a whisper.
His cell buzzes on the table beside him. He glances over but is quick to place his cell down. I can see his expression has shifted, a look of concern as worry reflects in his eyes.
“Is everything okay?”
He nods, “Yeah, just a text.”
I wanted to ask him if it was Kate. For some reason, she gets the better of me. They have this bond, this so-called friendship that doesn’t sit right with me. Noah doesn’t appear to be the type to hold friendships with women unless, of course, it has benefits.
I’m not an emotional person, always finding some way to block the pain. And even at my mother’s funeral, I didn’t shed a tear for fear of coming across weak in front of our family and friends. It was three days later when I finally broke down driving to campus for an important exam. I never told Dad or Scarlett how my car stopped at the red light, and by the time it turned green, I couldn’t move, paralyzed with pain. The hurt hit me with such force that my catatonic state alarmed the drivers around me. When I managed to snap out of it, I drove myself to the nearest frat house and lost myself to alcohol, drugs, and sex with random guys. It was my darkest hour. An hour that lasted four days until my friend found me and physically dragged me out of the house.
But something about Noah has struck a nerve. One that I’m struggling to hold back.
I dress and leave him there, hurrying to my car, where I drive home in a confused state of mind.
