Rather than roll down the window to talk to her, I open the door and get out. She backs up a few steps, as though putting distance between us is going to help her.
“Is something wrong?” she asks, her gaze trailing over me from head to toe, then back up, coming to rest on my face.
I swallow hard, unable to find my voice. Rather than tell her no, my night has gone to shit until right this very second, I move closer. When she’s in reach, I grab her and pull her into me, crushing my mouth to hers.
Her startled inhale doesn’t faze me. I thrust my tongue into her mouth, and when she kisses me back, I groan in relief. God, she tastes so damn sweet. Just as I remember.
“Invite me in, Noelle,” I mumble against her lips, walking her back toward her door.
I can feel her hesitation, but she finally relents, pulling away from me.
Waiting for her to unlock the door feels like an eternity. Once we’re inside, I can’t refrain. I’m on her again. Her purse falls to the floor at our feet, forgotten. My tongue twines with hers, furiously feasting, seeking the relief this woman affords me.
I can’t even take the time to move away from the door, to carry Noelle to the nearest soft surface. Instead, I retrieve the condom I tucked into my pocket earlier, wrenching my jeans open while fumbling with hers. It takes longer than I want to rid her of her jeans, but finally, I’ve got her in my arms, her back against the door as I sink inside her body.
Oh, holy fucking hell.
A rough growl rumbles in my chest as the heat of her pussy clasps my cock.
I bury my face in her neck, breathing hard, trying to rein myself in. I’ve craved this feeling since the first time I felt it. My dick pushing inside the warm, tight sheath of her body.
“You feel so fucking perfect,” I mumble.
Noelle moves against me, not saying anything. I pump my hips, driving up inside her, holding her ass to keep her in place. It’s awkward and perfect at the same time. I crush her against the door, allowing the unyielding surface to help bear her weight while I furiously thrust deeper, harder, faster. My entire world revolves around her right now, being buried balls deep inside her slick, welcoming cunt. I want more, need more.
“Noelle… God, baby…”
I claim her mouth once again.
Her nails dig into my scalp as she holds me tighter, her pussy clenching my dick.
“Fuck yes,” I groan. “Come for me, Noelle. Fucking come on my cock.”
Her head thumps against the door as she cries out, her muscles locking on my shaft.
It’s all I can do to keep standing as I come in a white-hot rush.
Noelle
SOMEONE SHOULD PROBABLY FILL ME in on what just happened here.
One minute I find Spencer sleeping in his truck outside my apartment, the next thing I know, he’s blowing my mind with an orgasm so sharp, so deliciously painful, I’m not sure I’ll be able to walk.
I’m thinking I should probably greet him now. Ask him if he wants something to drink. It’s uncomfortable, for sure.
What’s weirder than our lack of greeting is the fact that he’s still hard inside me, despite the fact I know he came. And he hasn’t put me back on my feet. I’m trapped between his big body and the door. I don’t wiggle, because if I do, it’s quite possible I’ll have another orgasm, and I really need to recover from that first one.
Spencer is breathing hard, his face buried in my neck. I wonder what he’s thinking, but I’m not sure I truly want to know.
Finally, he pulls back, his eyes meeting mine. The intensity in his gaze is so fierce I have to look away. When he pulls out of my body, I sigh. Yep, I’m disappointed, but I’m not going to tell him that. I still don’t know why he’s here. Well, I kind of know. The orgasm was somewhat telling.
Finally, he sets me on my feet.
“Did I hurt you?” he asks, his voice rougher than normal.
“Nope,” I say cheerfully, popping the P with more enthusiasm than I mean to.
“Good.”
I meet his eyes again. “Why good?”
Spencer pulls his shirt off and tosses it to the ground. He then does the same with mine. I’m now standing here in my bra and socks, which feels super strange. Doesn’t help that my socks are neon green with neon pink polka dots. Of course, the bra isn’t anything flashy. Simple white cotton. Not at all sexy.
I watch as Spencer discards his shoes and socks and then shucks his slacks. His suit is wrinkled. From sleeping in his truck? Or from what we just did? Don’t know, don’t care.
When he’s naked, I can’t help but stare. His muscles are standing out in stark relief, the veins in his arms bulging. I of course wonder if he’s dehydrated, but that doesn’t seem like a sexy thing to ask, so I keep it to myself. My gaze slowly glides over the collection of tattoos decorating his body. I love the artwork. I want to run my tongue over every line.
Then the most ridiculous thing occurs to me. While his eyes caress my face, I briefly wonder if my chin hair has come back. Pretending I have an itch, I rub my chin with the backs of my fingers. Can’t feel anything. That’s a good sign.
Spencer’s gaze drops to my chest, and I inhale sharply, heat swamping me again. This man has the ability to turn me on with a simple glance. That’s never happened to me before. Not like this anyway.
When he steps closer, I freeze, waiting with bated breath for what he’ll do next.
The back of his finger glides over the swell of my breast, dipping into my bra. I swallow hard when his fingernail gently scrapes over my nipple. I look down, watching his darker hand brushing against my pale skin. I plant my palms flat against the door behind me, down by my thighs, needing something to hold me up when his head lowers, his tongue following the trail his finger had moments ago. My pussy spasms when he pulls my bra cup down, exposing one breast, his mouth instantly latching on to my painfully erect nipple.
The moan that crawls up my throat is embarrassing, but I can’t hold it back. This man has complete control of my body. Nothing I can do or say will change that. So I go with it, letting the pleasure consume me.
When he pulls his head back, I see my nipple, wet and shiny from his mouth. I ache for him in ways I never expected.
His fingers find the front clasp of my bra, flicking it open with practiced ease before he moves his attention to my other breast. I want to touch him, but I don’t dare. My palms remain suctioned to the wood as though that might help keep me in one piece.
Spencer lifts his head and smiles. “Hold that thought. Don’t move.”
What the crap? He works me into a frenzy and then tells me to hold on?
I watch as he strolls naked across the room to the kitchen. Before he disappears behind the wall, I notice the used condom in his hand. I hear the trash can lid pop up, then drop down. Seconds later he returns.
I haven’t moved an inch and I think he’s pleased by that fact.
He doesn’t return his attention to my boobs this time. I watch as he drops to his knees in front of me, his fingers separating the slick folds of my pussy. I can’t keep my eyes off him, watching what he’s doing to me. It’s highly erotic to see it play out, to feel the way his rough fingers glide over my skin.
“I love how smooth you are.” His fingers tickle over my mound before once again opening me to his gaze.
“Oh, God,” I hiss when his hot tongue slides through my slit.
Forgotten are my psychedelic socks, the nuisance that might be growing on my chin, and the fact that my bra is hanging open like a vest. The only thing I can focus on is the heat of Spencer’s mouth on me. The way he works his tongue on my clit, driving me absolutely out of my mind.
I feel my knees give out and I’m helpless to keep from falling. My palms on the door have no effect on me whatsoever as I find myself sliding down. Spencer somehow manages to hold me up, his arm ban
ding around my waist.
I’m momentarily surprised when he surges to his feet and scoops me up in his arms. My head droops backward. I’m completely limp from the overstimulation to my body. For whatever reason, Spencer stops at the couch, depositing me on it before crawling over me. The heavy weight of his body is comforting and not entirely foreign. I immediately remember how he felt last weekend although that seems like so long ago.
“Noelle,” he breathes against my mouth. “I can’t get enough of you.”
He sounds tortured when he says that and I get it. I feel the same way. Being with him is like overindulging on chocolate and wine. I know I’ll forgive myself later, but if I don’t want to deal with the repercussions, I should probably hold out.
Also like wine and chocolate, I can’t resist Spencer.
Reaching down, I wrap my fingers around his cock. Satin over steel. The weight of him in my hand makes my mouth water. I want to taste him, to do to him what he’s been doing to me so many times.
“Fuck… Feels good…” He’s breathing hard when he lifts his head, his gaze capturing mine.
I lick my lips, silently willing him to know what I want.
His thumb glides over my lower lip, and I capture it with my teeth before sucking it into my mouth.
“Oh, fuck,” he hisses. “Your mouth. I want to feel your mouth on me.”
He doesn’t wait for my permission, getting to his feet and resting his knees on the cushion beside my head. I eagerly lap at the swollen head, looking up the length of his beautiful body.
“Noelle… Oh, yeah… Suck me. Put my dick in your mouth, baby.”
I wrap my lips around him, giving him what he asks for. I could do this for hours, watching the way he unravels before me.
“Let me fuck your mouth,” he says roughly.
I nod, shifting as he moves closer, his hand resting on the back of the sofa, the other tangling in my hair as he pushes his hips forward, driving deeper into my throat. I concentrate on not gagging. It’s impossible to take all of him at once; he’s too big, but I try.
“So fucking hot,” he croons. “Your lips around my dick… Fuck yes. Open for me, Noelle. Take more.”
He’s gentle at first, but then his hips begin moving faster, tunneling in and out. I have no control, so I simply allow him to use me for his pleasure, energy humming beneath my skin. It’s crazy the power I feel although he’s the one in charge. It’s heightened because I’m the one giving him the pleasure. Me. Only me.
“I wanna come in your mouth,” he groans. “Fuck… Keep doing that. Suck me harder. Harder.”
I focus on pleasing him, my only goal to drive him to the very edge and send him hurtling into the abyss, wanting him to feel the same things he makes me feel.
His hand tightens in my hair, lifting my head off the couch as his hips still, his dick pulsing against my tongue. I swallow him down.
Only then do I realize that Spencer didn’t treat me as though I was breakable. He used me for what he needed, what he wanted.
And although I know better, I can’t bring myself to regret the fact that he’s here or that he’ll be gone again tomorrow.
This is enough for now.
Noelle’s Journal
Dear Universe,
I think it’s safe to say that our relationship is on rocky ground. I’m not sure what’s going on, but clearly, I’m not projecting the right thing out into the world. Maybe you and I should take a break for a bit. You know, just until I get Spencer out of my system. Thanks.
16
Spencer
Sunday, October 23rd
I WAKE UP WITH THE sun shining in my face and my dick as hard as iron. The first, I realize, is because I’m in Noelle’s bed. The second because she is here with me. My hand is cupping the sweet curve of her breast, my cock cradled between the smooth, rounded globes of her ass. What a way to wake up. Holy shit. It takes all the willpower I possess not to push into her body and spend the next few minutes celebrating the new day the right way.
“Morning,” Noelle says in a far too chipper tone, peering at me over her shoulder.
That does not sound like the voice of a woman who just woke up.
“Mornin’,” I grumble, still fighting to keep my eyes open. “What time is it?”
“Time for me to get up and start the day.”
She shifts and I reluctantly release her breast, missing its soft, smooth warmth instantly.
“Are you always this happy in the morning?”
“Of course. Don’t worry, I’m not getting excited because you’re still here.”
I’m not sure I like that comment, but I manage not to say anything. I didn’t mean to imply that I thought she was.
Noelle kisses my nose, then wiggles out of the bed. I can’t keep from staring at her pert little ass as she walks across the room. The woman is ridiculously sexy. She makes me think stupid things, like how I would like to spend the entire day right here with her. Not necessarily in bed, either.
But I can’t, so I force myself to sit up.
I hear her turn on the shower, then she reappears in the doorway, a grin on her face. “Please lock the bottom lock on your way out.”
Okay. It sure sounds as though she’s dismissing me. Not wanting to think too hard on that, I nod. “Mind if I use the head first?”
Her smile brightens, if that’s even possible. “Sure thing. I’ll grab your clothes.”
Why does it feel like she’s eager to get rid of me?
Fifteen minutes later, as I’m pulling out of Noelle’s apartment complex, I’m still wondering what happened. To be honest, I’ve never been dismissed by a woman before. There are a few instances in my past where I would’ve welcomed it. This isn’t one of those times.
Is that how it works? When you find the one woman you wouldn’t mind spending a little more time with, she sends you packing without coffee?
I’m tempted to text her and tell her … what? What the hell am I going to tell her? That I’m coming back later? That I intend to make this an ongoing thing? That we should ride this out as long as possible because I’ve never had a woman damn near blow my head off with an orgasm?
This is me being pathetic. Clearly.
I can’t text her any of that.
For one, it’s not going to be an ongoing thing. As much as I’d like to think that it’s my place to decide that, it’s not. And from the way Noelle acted this morning, I definitely don’t see it as an option.
And two, I shouldn’t want this to be long term. We’re talking about Noelle here. She’s not even my type.
Okay, she is definitely my type. Now that I know what my type really is. It sucks, but I think I can say that no other woman I’ve ever been with has been my type because … they weren’t Noelle.
Christ.
This is fucked up.
I’m tempted to call Amber. I’ve never been the kind to want to talk about this kind of shit, but she’s easy to talk to. And she seems to be unbiased. I can’t stop thinking about what she said: Take your time with her. If something’s meant to be, it will happen. You can’t force these things. You can’t make yourself want something more if it’s not meant to be. And vice versa.
Taking my time generally wouldn’t be an issue. If I didn’t feel as though Noelle was pushing me away, maybe I’d be able to go with the flow. As for why I suddenly want more, I have no fucking clue. I’ve never experienced this before.
Could it be simply because the sex is phenomenal? Because she’s willing and open to trying new things? To exploring her pleasure?
Christ.
This is the very reason I’ve never let emotions become involved.
It’s too damn complicated.
I don’t like complicated.
Noelle
“DON’T YOU DARE MOVE,” I tell Ellie, using my
don’t mess with me voice. “I’ll be right back.”
I agreed to go shopping with Ellie because she needed to find a dress for the mental health awareness dinner. I would’ve gone with her anyway, because I don’t need an excuse to go shopping. I love to go through the racks of clothes, trying them on. I’m usually a bargain shopper, but today I have to pull out all the stops for my best friend.
She might not admit it, but I can tell she’s buying this dress with the sole purpose of blowing Kingston’s mind. Any of the dresses she’s tried on so far would do that, but she has balked at every single one.
But I know the perfect one. I probably should’ve pointed it out to her in the beginning, but I enjoy getting Ellie worked up for no reason. It’s fun to see her flustered. And she is.
I grab the dress off the rack and run it back to the dressing room, where Ellie is waiting for me.
“Here. This is the one.”
I can tell by the way she’s eyeing it that she loves it instantly. It’ll look phenomenal on her, I have no doubt. With her long legs and wispy body, she’ll have every man in the room drooling over her. For sure Kingston.
“Okay, I’ll try it.”
I unzip the dress she has on and wait patiently while she darts back into the changing room.
I give her exactly two minutes before I say, “You love it, don’t you?”
“I love it.”
Well, it looks like I totally underestimated how freaking amazing that dress would look on her. “Holy fuck. Kingston is going to go apeshit.”
He really is. And if any other man looks at her, Mount Rushmore is going to beat him to a bloody pulp.
While Ellie admires herself in the mirror, I remember the one thing I forgot. “Oh, hold on. I know the perfect shoes.”
A few minutes later, I practically skip into the dressing room, dangling the silver heels from my fingertips. I notice she’s still checking herself out in the mirror.
Kaufman: The Season (Austin Arrows Book 2) Page 15
