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“But…?”
I spill the ugly truth. “But it’ll send me to hell.”
He sighs dramatically, closing his eyes as he scowls. “I hate that you still believe that.”
“Noah—”
“I’m feeling things for you. I actually fucking like you,” he confesses, meeting my gaze, his dark eyes no longer angry. “I like you as more than a fuck. I like you a lot.You.”
“I feel the same way,” I admit, something warm unfurling in my chest.
Noah makes me feel…happy. Have I ever actually felt that before? I’m happy in my relationship with God, in His love, but has it ever been like this? Did my heart ever skip a beat at the mention of His name? Does a simple whisper of a memory of Him cause an uninhibited thrill to shoot through me? Did I want to do anything—everything—just to make Him smile with pride?
“I feel the same way,” I say, inching toward Noah almost involuntarily. I cup his angular face in my hands, brushing my thumb against the scruff on his cheek, enjoying every inch ofmanunder my fingertips. “I like you, Noah.”
“I’m not going to beg for you,” he whispers, resting his forehead against mine. “No matter how much I want to.”
“I don’t want you to. I want…”
“What do you want?” he asks, flashing his eyes up to mine. He licks his lips slowly, and I track that movement like a dying man tracks the light of God. “Babe…”
I lean forward and brush my lips against his, ghosting my breath over his mouth, breathing him in. “You.”
And then it all happens so quickly. Without any finessesand without any grace, I slam my lips down on his. I’m so hungry for him, so perfectly weak to my knees to be with him. God. God is flashing through my mind. God is judging me. God is berating me. God will hate me.
But Noah’s lips take it all away.
Before I know what I’m doing, I’m yanking his pants down to his ankles and falling to my knees. I’ll worship him. I’ll make him my god for however long this lasts. Because I’m a weak man. I’m a fractured soul. I’m forsaken and lost in Noah’s glory.
I take him into my mouth with a loud groan, wrapping my lips around his cock and forcing him down my throat. It’s messy and sloppy and I’m sure he’s had better, but it’s just a testament to how much I want him right now.
“P-Please…” I beg, rutting myself against his leg as I press kisses all over his cock. “Please, fuck me.”
He yanks me up to my legs and whirls me around. He quickly slams me down on the nearest table, ignoring the fact that paint is splattering all over us. He drags my pants and underwear down and leaves them around the top of my thighs, his arm braced against my back, effectively pinning me in place.
“Look at this ass,” he mumbles, and there’s a slick wet sensation across my cheeks. I look back and see that he’s dipped his fingers in paint and there are now prominent handprints on my ass. “I want you to be mine, Jarred. I want it so bad.”
“Me too,” I admit brokenly, savagely banging my head against the table in frustration. “Make me yours, baby.”
“I don’t have anything on me.”
“Use your spit.Anything. I need you inside me.”
I feel a wet trail of something coat my hole. I don’t know if it’s his spit or paint, but I don’t care. All I care about is the bliss that accompanies the slow steady pressure of him entering me.
“Still so tight for me,” he rasps, plastering his bare front against my back, grinding his cock into me. “You aren’t happy unless you have a big dick up your ass.”
He’s right. He’s sofuckingright. I tried to ignore it. I tried to push it aside. I tried to fight it.
But this is real. This is perfect. This is everything.
“Please, Noah,” I groan, gasping when he manages to tilt my hips up and nail my prostate. “Yes! Right there! Yes, yes, yes!”
“You pissed me off, babe,” he growls. “You tried to break things off with me. You tried to take this away from us.”
“I’m sorry,” I cry, hands scrambling for purchase on the table, his thrusts frantic and animalistic, all his anger pouring out as he fucks me. “Please, please, please don’t stop.”
“Does God give you this? Can God make you feel this way?”
