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“What are you doing, Juliet?” he murmurs, his eyes falling to my breasts, half spilling over, free from my wet bra.
Tension knots inside me, creating an ache in my chest, and instead of answering with words, I slip a hand behind my back, and unclasp it, but I don’t take it off. I pull my hand out, letting him decide what to do next.
Noah shifts his weight to one side, his knuckles coming up to glide along my shoulder, as his finger hooks under my strap.
“You want me to touch you?” He slides lower.
A small moan works its way up my throat, and Noah pulls the garment from my body, my hands coming back down to grip the sleeping bag beneath me.
My breasts are bared to him, and he takes his time raking his gaze over every inch of me, his attention serving as a heated caress, as do the slow, deliberate exhales fanning along my skin.
His mouth meets my breastbone then and I pull in a harsh breath.
“Tell me where.” His command is gentle, and my nipples turn to sharp points.
My body heats, skin flushing, and Noah peeks at me through his full, dark lashes.
My lips part and his pull to one side.
“There it is,” he rasps. “That’s what I was waiting for. The blush.” His touch creates a fiery path up my stomach and doesn’t stop there. It trails higher, until his hand is gently stretched along my throat. I swallow against him and his fingers twitch in response.
His eyes snap to mine, and he repeats himself. “Tell me where.”
I play our game. “You already know the answer to that.”
“But…” He bites at my stomach, and I squirm.
But he wants me to say it.
Empowered by his mischievous way, I do him one better.
I guide his hand down my torso, in an unhurried fashion, and I don’t stop the tips of his fingers dipping beneath the hem of my underwear.
That’s where I leave him, because while I might not know Noah in this way… I know Noah.
His eyes snap to mine, narrowing, and I can’t suppress the giggle working its way up my throat.
“There.”
His features flash with praise and with that one look, the spark in my core grows to a full-fledged flame. He knows it and fuels the fire, his mouth coming down on my right nipple, clamping over me in retaliation. His lips begin to vibrate, and I squirm.
My legs come up, rubbing together in an attempt to ease the ache, and the move has his hand slipping farther south. That does it.
Noah drives his touch lower, his fingers coming together so he doesn’t miss a single sliver of skin on his way down. He cups me first, applying a teasing amount of pressure with his palm.
My eyes close, his tongue now swirling around my hard peaks as he pushes up onto his knees. He drags his wet lips across my skin, giving equal attention to my left nipple.
His hand skates lower, his chest rumbling as the tip of his pointer finger meets my slit.
“Fuck,” he croaks. “Open.”
My legs fall instantly.
His touch is hot and strong. I need—
His mouth crashes mine, cutting off my thoughts, yet answering it as he rasps, “I’m about to feel you. I’m gonna find out how warm you are, how soft…”
No sooner than he says it, he’s there, pushing into me with slow precision.
My moan is instant.
“So fucking soft.” He bites my lip. “So wet.” My jaw.
When his hand retracts, my eyes fly open, my core straining from the loss, but then his finger disappears between his lips.
His eyes flare, and I nearly choke on air. “So fucking sweet.”
I need to come.
His mouth moves back to mine, and he whispers, “You’re about to.”
His fingers drive back inside, dipping in and out as his thumb presses at my clit, his lips playing like a rake against my body. He’s on my chest, my ribs.
He’s everywhere.
I need more.
I whimper, lifting my hips, willing him deeper, and my god, does Noah give me what I want.
He pushes in until the pressure of his hand is hard against my entrance.
“Kiss me,” I murmur, my eyes pinching shut. I moan again, blindly seeking out the warmth of his skin. My hands glide up his pecs, and I start to shake. “Now, Noah.”
He groans, giving me what I want, working my clit over and over, squeezing, pressing, and then holding as my body writhes beneath him, swallowing the sounds coming up from my throat. Sounds I’ve never heard myself make.
Sounds that drive him mad, creating fireworks between my legs.
Noah’s hand leaves me, but his kiss doesn’t.
It deepens, hardens until I cry into his mouth, and then it slows, as if in tune with my orgasm, as if he knew the high my body would reach, and the slow, sated come down it would bring me to.
