A wrinkle forms between his eyebrows when he frowns. “Your head?” He exhales in a frustrated rush. “I’m so sorry, Heather. I remembered as soon as I pulled. I . . .”
I shake my head to stop him. “No, I’m aching here . . .” I lower my hand down and touch myself when I see recognition flash into his eyes.
His eyes follow my hand, watching me slowly caress my oversensitive skin. “Will I hurt you?” His lips drift across my skin, biting me in every spot he wants and needs.
“No.” I’m clawing at his skin anxiously. “Please, I’m not bleeding anymore, and I haven’t been hurting.” I’m arching my body into his, trying to entice him. God, if he turns me down, I’m going to cry. I want him that badly. His hot hands move down my body and rip my lacy thong off of me.
“Yes . . .” I wail in ecstasy as his finger runs down through my folds.
He’s grinning when he pushes one finger inside; my tight walls lock around his finger as he moves it in and out swiftly. “It’s been a while, ballerina; I think this is going to wear you out. Maybe I should just make you come on my fingers.”
My eyes roll back, and all I can do is gasp. He’s right. There’s no way he’s getting in. I’m too tight.
“We’re not leaving this bedroom until I’ve satisfied your every need,” he insists, and I whimper, reaching for his face and bringing those charming lips to mine.
“Mmm, I love you,” I say quietly as I wrap my arms around his neck, holding him to me.
He licks my teeth and then my bottom lip as we kiss, replying under his breath, “I love you, Heather Lane.”
He pushes his finger up to my sweet spot before adding a second. My body jolts, and I moan against his lips. He’s pushing me to the brink—and fast; I’m so, so close. It feels like it’s been forever since we’ve been intimate.
“Oh . . . yes, right there.”
He’s using his thumb to help me chase my orgasm as he coaxes my little bundle of nerves from beneath its hood.
“Let me feel that pussy come.”
Right then he nips at my neck, and I crack under the pressure of his fingers.
“Ah . . . Noah!”
I convulse uncontrollably as thunderous quakes rack my body. I scream out as the paralyzing bliss overwhelms every cell inside of me. I can feel his low rumbling growl against my neck as he moves and bites another spot.
My fingers dig into his arm, and I start begging, “Please, please don’t make me wait. I need you now. I don’t care if it hurts.”
“You’re going to wait whether you like it or not. I will not damage or hurt you. No exception,” he states as he kisses my breasts and down my stiff, needy body to the inside of my quivering thighs. I’m panting, and I can’t wait. I want him so badly that I’m about to take it from him. I move my body down, and he stops moving. I reach for his shaft and try to maneuver myself to get what I want. I’ve never felt this way before. My hormones are raging.
He grabs my hips and halts my movements. “Heather, no.” I can feel the tension in his grip as he moves me up the bed.
“No!” I argue back and try to squirm back down. I’ve never really been mad at him, but dammit, I’m so close.
His fingers lock around me and pin me to the bed. He’s stern and serious when he says, “Listen to me.”
I stop squirming and look up at him. “What?”
“You’re not rushing this. You’re going to let me do what I want to this gorgeous body of yours. You’re going to let me make you come as many times as I see fit. I am going to make you mine, solely mine, and your libido is not going to get in the way of my taking my time with you.”
Ugh! I cannot believe this.
“But . . .”
“But nothing. Now stop fighting me and let our bodies get reacquainted.”
His lips are on me again as he pushes my legs apart. He bites and licks the inside of my thighs, teasing me. How can I say anything to that? I exhale in a rush when his tongue moves slowly against my skin.
“Baby, please? I can’t wait.”
“Be patient, little miss.”
I can feel his warm breath hit my sex in a caress. His mouth is on me the second he stops speaking, and then I know. I know that he’s struggling to keep his cool. I know he wants to slam his heavy veined cock into me with all of his might, but he won’t, because he cares more about me and my well-being than he does his own.
His tongue is moving faster, and I need to watch him. I lift my head and watch this gorgeous man eat me out. It’s the sexiest thing to see, and I can’t believe I’ve never watched before. His eyes are closed, and he’s ravenous. Suddenly his teeth nip at my folds, and I come undone.
My body shudders as he continues his determined assault on my sex. He pushes his middle and index finger into me while I’m lost in my orgasm to stretch me out. He’s enjoying this too much.
His eyes meet mine when I can no longer move. “Fuck it,” he yells out and pulls my body to the edge of the bed, before stroking his cock with one hand.
By the look in his eyes, his self-restraint is shredded; he’s just as wanton as I am. I don’t know how he’s lasted this long. I’m feeling triumphant: my begging must have finally gotten to him. His expression is controlled when he leans down and braces himself over me. “You make me lose control, Heather. Now I’m taking control over your body.”
Holy F!
I’d let him control any aspect of my life. I love his cockiness. His dominance. My lustful thoughts are interrupted by confusion as I watch him slide a latex barrier over the thick head of his cock, before he places himself at my entrance.
“Wait, what is that?” I ask and close my legs even though I know the answer.
“Exactly what it looks like. Now open your damn legs, so I can watch myself sink into that pussy. We’re playing by my rules now.”
My thighs have a mind of their own, and they open willingly, allowing him the space he needs to push the head of his cock between my folds and into my awaiting walls.
“Oh shit!” I blurt out before I can stop myself. My eyes lock with his as he stops moving. His palms are resting on my knees. He doesn’t say anything for the longest moment, but then he continues to move achingly slow, stopping just inside my folds. He squeezes my knees and growls low and deep, my heat engulfing just the head of his cock.
“Fuck, you are beyond tight,” his voice breaks the sound of our rapid breaths. “Do you want more?” His question drives me insane because he already knows I want so, so much more.
“Yes!” I pant and watch his expression as he slides farther into my channel.
He feels unimaginable, and the feeling that ruptures through my body is one of a kind. I arch my back as pleasure takes over. I’m so high off of him and he’s once again so contained, so reserved. I hate that he won’t let himself enjoy this. He’s so tense in his effort not to hurt me.
I need a way to calm him so I reach up and press my palm to his abs, halting him. His face is pained when he looks at me.
“Kiss me,” I say in the softest voice I can manage.
I can feel the restraint he’s using in his core when I sit up and kiss him slowly. I want him to revel in this. He needs to know he’s not hurting or damaging me.
I slip my arms around his neck and run my fingers up into his hair while I kiss him slowly, passionately. Whispering against his lips, “I’m okay, baby . . . I’m reeling. I’m not in any pain. Please, please make love to me.”
His grunt reverberates through me as his hands stop holding me down and start roaming my body. My eyes flutter closed at his soft, warm touches. He pulls my back up and off of the bed so that I’m sitting up at an angle on the edge of the bed. Both of his large tanned hands move down my spine to my butt, as he pushes the rest of his length into me.
I whimper into his mouth and suck on his lower lip. “Yes . . . just like that, baby.”
We both relax, allowing him to slide in easily. I’m holding onto his muscled shoulders, as we rock on the
edge of the bed: my butt is half on and half off of the mattress. His sizable cock is pressing up into me, grazing my spot repeatedly.
“Ballerina, you are so damn gorgeous,” he trails off as his cock convulses inside of me.
I’m kissing every part of him that I can reach: his lips, jaw, and down his neck.
“You’re going to make me come,” he whispers in a strained voice.
My hands move from his broad shoulders, down his spine, where I drag my nails across his taut skin.
I think he likes it, so I apply more pressure. I know I’m leaving my marks on him, but I love it. His heavy balls are slapping against the curve of my butt as he pounds into me swiftly.
I whimper out in delirium as it all overtakes me when he digs his fingers into my butt cheeks. “Baby!”
His growl is so sexy when he hears my cries. He thrusts up into me over and over again. Noah’s so long and insanely thick that I can barely keep my thoughts straight. My heart is pounding out of my chest. He slows his movements and pulls back to look at me, running his hand up my neck and slipping his thumb into my mouth. At that same moment, he circles his hips and pushes into me with more force.
I come with a body-shaking, heart-racing, toe-curling orgasm that takes control of me.
His groan reverberates through my body, and he buries himself deep inside of me.
Every single movement between us stops as his sexy, raspy grunt fills the room, and I feel how hot he is for me. He’s spewing every last drop deep into the damned barrier between us as I contract around his shaft.
I collapse onto the bed, completely exhausted. I know I didn’t do much work, but my body hasn’t been through that type of exertion in quite some time. His breathing is hot and heavy as he leans his forehead between my breasts. We’re both damp with perspiration from our lovemaking.
I’m so in love with this man. I cannot believe I got so lucky. I move my fingers into his damp hair and gently massage his scalp. He groans and kisses between my breasts, and it makes me smile. He’s so affectionate, so unlike the others I’ve been with.
He hums his appreciation before pulling his length out of me and removing the now slick condom off of himself. He moves us both farther up the bed, tossing a hanger from the bed onto the floor so we can get comfortable. He rests his head between my breasts again and murmurs, “I love you, little ballerina.”
NOAH
My ballerina is fast asleep as I purchase our plane tickets to get us back to New York City. I figured she’d want more time in London to spend with Dillen, so we leave in a month from today. Coen left this morning, and I can hear Dillen sputtering about it in her room. I understand how much distance can hurt a person. Whenever I’m too far from my girl, I feel homesick. I can’t imagine going through that again, and I’m fucking delighted that she asked to come back home with me.
It’s late and I should get to bed soon, but I have one more thing I need to do before I can shut down my laptop. I have to email my parents. Joel got in contact with them this past week, and he’s explained my situation to them. He hasn’t given them any of my information, and I’m grateful for that. I don’t think I could cope with an onslaught of questions or an outpouring of love I think I’ll get from them. I’m not even certain if that’s what I’d get. I have their information, and this entire situation is lying in the palm of my hands.
Perhaps they have an entire family without me; I wouldn’t be surprised. It’s been thirty years since they saw me last. They have missed every second of my life. Every accomplishment, every fucked-up thing I’ve done, and every lie I’ve told. But they won’t miss the first girl I bring home. I can’t imagine how they must be struggling with this information. Hell, they probably assumed I was dead.
I decided to look up the articles that were supposed to be in Mae’s white binder, the binder that tore me apart limb by limb in the cruelest and most merciless way. I find an article that is dated April 5th, 1985, two days after my birth.
Investigation to Find Missing Newborn Continues
NEW YORK—An investigation to find the kidnapped two-day old infant, Jorden Somer, is well underway. The infant was stolen mere hours after his birth. Search crews have swept the hospital, as well as hospital grounds with no success.
Yesterday’s search didn’t turn up anything substantive, but investigators say they will continue to follow up on leads today.
“We’re not leaving a single stone unturned when it comes to this newborn baby boy,” said Officer Nathan Hunt, of the NYPD. “Yesterday we were checking trashcans in the immediate neighborhood, searching any area where this infant might possibly be located. Today we are focusing on a centralized area, then working outward. This target area has been a prime spot for a certain serial kidnapper to discard any child he or she does not approve of. However, there are no signs of Jorden Somer yet.”
Police have searched every street, alley, dumpster, and crevice and are once again questioning witnesses about Jorden Somer’s disappearance. His parents, Henry and Ellery Somer, have decided to remain silent in this difficult and unfortunate time in their lives. Both parents were questioned soon after they reported their baby missing.
If you have any information, you’re asked to contact your local police department.
I manage to breathe and exit out of the scanned-in article. I will myself to open up my email and type out a brief message to the two of them before I get some shut-eye.
To: Henry Somer, Ellery Somer
From: Noah Ryan
Subject: Jorden Somer
Henry and Ellery,
It has taken me weeks to compose this email, and I’m still unsure of what to say. I’d like to meet both of you soon, though. I’m sure Joel Aldrich has caught you both up on my situation, and I’m also sure you have just as many questions as I do. I believe it will be easier to speak about this in person. I’ll be back in New York in a month if you’d like to arrange a date to meet. I’d be happy to rearrange my schedule for you.
Your son,
Noah Ryan/Jorden Somer
I reluctantly hit send before closing my laptop, and I get into bed, moving Heather on top of my chest. She’s been sleeping soundly lately. I think the grieving process of our unborn child has developed into a journey that we both need to take. Everything about that situation was over my head. I still have no idea how to handle any of it, but I’m not giving up on my girl. Not now, not ever.
I don’t know where Heather is. I can hear her music playing in the background somewhere. I look around at an unfamiliar place, and I‘m confused. Where in the hell am I? I turn and look behind me, through a set of glass doors that peer out onto a beach. I’m in someone’s living room. The items in the room look familiar; they look like my things . . . and hers. I like this place, and it feels like home. It feels right. I call out for her, “Heather?”
I don’t hear anything except her music playing. Suddenly, something tugs at my jeans. I look down when I feel something sit on my bare foot; smiling up at me is a little girl—a beautiful, little brunette girl, sitting on my foot with her little legs and arms wrapped tightly around my leg. She tugs at my pant leg again. “Dance with me, Daddy.”
My heart slams against my chest, and I’m jolted awake, sitting straight up out of bed, gasping for air. I look down beside me and see my girl sleeping peacefully on my pillow.
I rub a hand over my eyes and down my face. Holy fuck, what the hell was that all about? My eyes are mostly adjusted to the dark, and I look back down at Heather. She’s sound asleep. Quietly, I get out of bed and walk into the bathroom, closing the door almost fully before turning on the lights. My eyes protest when the bright lights bathe the room.
Damn, that dream.
Why?
I brace my arms on the counter while I look at my tired reflection. It’s the studying. Yeah, that’s it. I need to cut back on the studying. My brain needs a fucking break. I sigh and turn on the faucet, leaning down and splashing cold water on my face, before looki
ng back up at myself. Fuck Ryan, get your shit together. It was just a dream.
“Baby?” Heather calls out before pushing the bathroom door open. She’s still half asleep, with her hair half in and half out of her ponytail.
“Hey beautiful, let’s go back to bed.”
“Are you okay?” she asks, before inspecting me. Fuck, she’s the cutest sleepy little mess.
“I’m good.”
I walk over to her and sweep her off of her feet, carrying her back to bed, being sure to turn off the lights before I lay her down.
She curls up on top of my chest, and I wrap my arms around her little frame, keeping her secure on top of me.
“I love you, Noah.”
I kiss the top of her head and grin. “I love you too.”
When I open my eyes again, the sunlight is pouring into the room, and Heather is sitting at the end of the bed with her legs crossed. Surrounding her are golden foil packets, and I smell the unmistakable scent of latex. I sit up, confused, and try to focus. When I see what she’s done, my eyes go wide.
“Heather, what in the fuck are you doing?” I scold her.
She looks at me and replies with a flippant shrug. “Taking care of business.”
I frown when she takes the scissors to another condom, cutting it in half while making a show of it. She looks downright unrepentant.
“Why?” I almost shout in disbelief.
She glares at me. “Because I hate that you wore these with me. I don’t want it happening again, so I’m doing what I had to do.”
This stubborn woman. Fuck.
“You won’t let me win this one, will you?”
She stares at me as if the question I just asked is redundant, so I try to change the topic instead, to avoid an argument. “I bought our plane tickets last night. We leave in just under a month.”
Her eyes are unhappy, and I can’t stand it. “Oh . . . okay.”
“Is that okay?”
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