“Yes.”
The word was a longing sigh falling from my lips, and as soon as it had, Noah trailed his fingertips down my arms, hands rolling into fists at my sides and bunching the fabric of my dress up with it. He captured my mouth even harder, sucking in a breath on a passionate kiss before he broke away and lifted the dress up and over my head.
My arms were still in the air when he threw my dress somewhere behind him, and he reached up, meeting my hands with his own as he kissed me again. He wound his fingertips with mine, and somehow, what his hands did to mine was even more sensual than the kiss, than his t-shirt on my half-naked body, than his hard-on pressing through the fabric of his black sweatpants.
I didn’t ask to take his clothes off. Instead, I trailed my hands down, his fingers following mine until I slipped them between us. His hands found my waist as mine dove beneath the band of his sweatpants. I trailed my fingertips from hip bone to hip bone, just under the band, and I groaned when I realized he didn’t have briefs on beneath.
“You surprised me,” he mused with a smirk. “Didn’t have time for underwear.”
“Would have just gotten in the way,” I breathed. Then, I gathered the hem of his shirt in my hands and tugged.
Noah lifted his arms, letting me strip him before he reached around me and unhooked my bra.
I inhaled a stiff breath when he slipped the straps of it over my shoulders, the fabric eliciting a wave of chills as he dragged it down my arms and let it fall on the floor between us. His eyes dipped to my exposed breasts for just the smallest moment before he found my eyes again, his Adam’s apple bobbing hard in his throat.
Then, his lips were on mine again.
My knees buckled when he pressed me back farther, and I fell into his sheets. His lips never left mine as he helped guide me up, crawling over me, every part of him towering over every part of me as he settled between my legs. I sighed when the warmth of his bare chest brushed my nipples, and the heat of him lined up with the heat of me, only his sweatpants and my tiny strap of a thong separating us.
Noah pulled back, balancing on his elbows above me as he searched my eyes, my hair, every centimeter of my face. He seemed to be tracing lines between my freckles — first with his eyes, and then with the tender tip of his finger.
“God, Ruby Grace,” he whispered, shaking his head. “What are you doing to me? I feel like I’m under your spell.”
I smirked, rolling my hips against his. “The real question is, what should I do to you next?”
Noah groaned at the contact, biting his lower lip and kissing me hard before he pulled back again, this time peppering my collarbone with kisses and shifting his weight.
“You aren’t going to do anything to me. Not yet. Not before I get my turn.”
The chuckle I meant to give in response was lost in my throat, kidnapped by a gasp that ripped through me at the shock of his mouth on my sensitive nipple. He sucked gently, rolling his tongue over the puckered tip before trailing over to the other. He massaged the weight of each breast in his hands, his mouth devouring me like I was the sweetest dessert.
And then, he trailed down.
His lips wandered like lost travelers over the hills and valleys of my rib cage, sliding down the middle of my abdomen, traipsing the freckles between my hips before he settled on his elbows between my thighs. His eyes were dark and hooded as he gazed up at me, and with that look of sin holding me captive, he pressed one, feather-light kiss to the wet center of my panties.
I moaned, back arching up off the bed as my fists twisted in the sheets. When he slipped his thumbs under the straps of my thong and slowly trailed it down my thighs, I couldn’t help but watch, and I loved the way his eyes darkened even more when I was bare beneath him.
I’d never had anyone that up close and personal to my vagina.
Anthony never went down on me, and as far as I was concerned, it was just something that happened in the romance movies Betty loved to force me to watch. But the second Noah had my panties off my ankles and dropped somewhere off the bed, he dragged his tongue up the inside of each of my thighs, and then, he pressed that same brush of a kiss to the same spot.
But nothing was between us this time.
Every inch of me trembled at the warmth of that kiss, and even more so at the loss of it. I gripped onto the sheets again, like they could ground me, like somehow they could steady my shaking nerves.
“You’re trembling, Legs,” Noah whispered against the spot he’d just kissed, his breath hot and wet and sending another wave of chills over me.
“I’m so nervous I feel like I’m about to pass out.”
The words flew out before I thought better of them, and Noah laughed, pulling away long enough to look up at me. “Why nervous? It’s just me. It’s just us.”
“I know,” I said, shifting until I was on my elbows and could meet his gaze. “I just… I’ve never…” I didn’t even want to say it, so I just nodded to where he was between my legs. “You know.”
His face sobered. “A man has never eaten your pussy before?”
A fierce blush shaded my cheeks at the p word.
What, am I twelve?
“Never,” I think I said. I wasn’t sure if I just moved my lips or if an actual sound came out.
“Not even your fiancé?”
I shook my head.
For a moment, anger flashed in his eyes, and he shook his head again, jaw muscles ebbing and flowing in tense little pops. Then, he let out a long breath and met my gaze again. “Well, just proves to me once again that he’s a fucking idiot. And now I’m hell bent on devouring your pussy until you have the best orgasm of your goddamn life.”
I swallowed, the blush on my cheeks paling immediately as my fists twisted in the sheets. Noah glanced at my hands, and a devilish smirk spread on his handsome-as-hell face.
“Hold on tight.”
Without another tease, or so much as a warning, his mouth was on me.
On me — as in, his lips surrounded my clit, his tongue tracing the sensitive bud in a circular rhythm before he dragged it back and forth in slow, long rolls.
I fell back into the sheets, my entire body convulsing at the feel of his expert tongue. I couldn’t wrap my head around anything he was doing, and as soon as I felt like I was used to the sensation, his tongue would start a new pattern, or he’d suck my clit between his teeth, or drag his tongue between my lips and dive inside me before returning to my clit.
Every second was a new feeling, a new reason to shake, a new thief of breath.
“Yep,” Noah said, kissing the inside of my thigh as he ran his hand up over my knee. “He’s a fucking idiot. Because you have the sweetest pussy, Ruby Grace.”
I didn’t have time to blush or moan or bite my lip because in the next breath, he slid one finger inside me, right up to the knuckle.
I was so wet, he slid right in, but I still felt every inch of him stretching me open. I gasped, head rolling back in the pillow, fists abandoning the sheets to fly back and hang onto the top of his headboard. I needed friction. I needed grounding. I needed something to keep me from flying out of this universe entirely at the feel of him inside me and sucking me at the same time.
My mind raced, trying to piece it all together as Noah worked between my legs. I’d never felt so cherished, so worshipped. Having a man between my legs was somehow the most powerful experience, and I reveled in it, letting every time I’d ever wanted to touch him or kiss him build up in my memory before I’d remind myself that it was happening. That time was now.
Noah Becker had his face between my legs, and I was like a prisoner surrendering willingly to whatever consequence lay before us after this moment.
It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.
Nothing but this man and this moment.
Noah stayed between my thighs for hours. I was certain of it. It had to be hours. After working me open, he slipped another finger inside me, his tongue rolling in a new way as he curled his finger
s inside me. And I felt it building, like a slow, glowing ember that caught oxygen and exploded into flames with another flick of his tongue.
“Noah,” I breathed, heart racing, legs trembling. “Oh, God. Noah. Noah.”
His free hand gripped my ass, pulling me even more into him, the other working its magic inside me. And when he circled my clit faster, faster, giving me the friction I needed, I completely spiraled.
Sheets and headboard be damned. I flew into the atmosphere, every part of me alive and burning, stars invading my vision as I succumbed to the darkness and panted out each rolling, euphoric wave of my orgasm.
I was floating.
I was soaring.
I was nothing at all and everything I’d ever wanted to be.
My heart was still racing in my chest, breaths loud and heavy in the space between us as Noah slowly climbed his way back up, trailing kisses along the way. When he settled between my already sore legs again, he smirked, brushing my wild hair away from my face and kissing me.
I tasted me on him, tangy and sweet.
“That was hot,” he said, his words reverberating through me. “You are hot.”
“Noah,” I breathed, threading my fingers through his hair and pulling his mouth to mine. I kissed him long and hard, feverishly, like my next breath had to be syphoned from that kiss. “I want you inside me.”
He let out a shaky breath, pressing his forehead to mine. “Are you sure?”
I nodded, pulling at him again, nails on his back and in his hair and everywhere I could grab until he pushed off me, standing at the edge of the bed. He kept his eyes on mine, a hard swallow marking his throat as he reached for the band of his sweatpants. He bent, taking them down with the motion, and when he stood again, I forgot my next breath.
I just stared, mouth open, heart stopping along with my lungs before they both kicked back to life.
Oh, God.
I’d felt him against me when he was on top, his erection pressed into my stomach, but even that couldn’t have prepared me for what I was face to face with now.
“Don’t be scared,” he said, worry etched in his brows as he stepped toward me. The monster between his legs was hard and thick in his hand, and he stroked it once, twice, three times before he rounded the bed and sat down next to me. His back was against the headboard, his legs out in front of him, and I edged my way up until my back was against the headboard, too.
He was pumping, swallowing, watching my expression.
I was still staring between his legs.
“Come here,” he said, voice low and raspy. He reached for my hand, and when I met his fingertips with my own, he locked eyes with me, moving us both until my hand was on his shaft.
His eyes closed at the touch. My mouth fell open again.
And slowly, carefully, I wrapped my hand around him and slid it down, down, all the way to the base before I rolled it back up.
A heavy breath broke through his nose, and his hand left mine, reaching for my thigh, instead. He squeezed, letting me explore, letting me stroke him — gently, slowly, his erection growing harder and harder with each pump.
I wanted him inside me.
I knew it would hurt. I knew I likely wasn’t ready to fit all of him in me. But, I wanted to try. I needed to know what it felt like to be connected with him in that way — nothing between us, no beginning of him or ending of me — just one, blissful being.
I swallowed past the knot in my throat as I released his shaft, his eyes creaking open at the loss of my hand. He watched me with that heated stare as I crawled into his lap, my hands balancing on the headboard behind him as I lowered down.
His thick shaft slipped between my lips, and I rolled my hips, sliding my wet core up and down his erection. Each time I rolled, the tip of his shaft would rub my clit as the rest of him floated between my soaked lips, and I moaned, letting my head fall back at the sensation and gripping the headboard even tighter.
“Jesus Christ,” he cursed. Prayed? “That feels so good. I’m not even inside you yet. How does that feel so fucking good?”
I moaned in response, still rolling my hips, coating him with my orgasm and feeling another one building in the process. When he was nice and wet, I reached down, bringing my gaze to his as I wrapped my hand around his cock.
“Condom?” I breathed.
Noah wrapped one arm around me, holding me in his lap as he leaned over and dug in the drawer of his bedside table. His hands disappeared behind my back when we were righted, and I heard the tear of the wrapper, felt him pull his shaft from my grip and cover it with the latex, and then, his hands were on my hips again, his eyes on mine, all the control in my hands.
I swallowed, forcing a shaky breath before I reached back again. He pulsed in my hand, hard and ready, and when I lined up the tip of him with my entrance, we both stopped.
Our breathing stopped.
Time stopped.
And I lowered, just an inch, just enough for everything in the universe to snap back into action.
We breathed a sigh of ecstasy in sync, and I lifted my hips before sliding down even farther, taking him a little more. Each time I lifted, each time I sank down on him a little more, our breathing accelerated. Noah groaned when I swallowed him whole, feeling the stretching burn from the inside out, and for a moment I just stayed there — him completely inside me, his hands bruising my hips, the moment branding my heart.
I lifted, sank back down.
Rolled my hips.
Rubbed my clit against his pelvis.
“Fuuuuck,” he groaned, wrapping his arms around me as he sat up a little more. We were chest to chest, and he held one strong arm around me while the other slid up my back, his hand cradling my head and pulling it into him. He pressed his forehead to mine, closing his eyes as he flexed his hips, and I whimpered, feeling the extra inch of him I couldn’t reach on my own.
I didn’t know sex could feel like this.
I didn’t know anything in the world could feel like this.
It wasn’t a hard, pounding fuck, the way Anthony loved to take me. It wasn’t minutes of panting and then a heady, quick release and roll off of me.
This was art.
This was Noah, the painter, his hands the brushes, me the canvas.
This was me, the muse, feeling every breath of his like the fire that fueled my existence.
We were slick with sweat, rolling and slipping over each other as I rocked and he flexed, his mouth finding mine, kissing me with reverence as sighs and moans mingled between us. They seemed to dance in time with our movements — a thrust, a sigh, a flex, a kiss, a roll, a moan.
It was a beautiful waltz.
And we danced for hours.
I came again, rolling my clit against him as he flexed into me, and then he rolled us until I was on my stomach, my face in the pillows, back arched up off the bed and ass up in the air — waiting. He entered me from behind, and the sheer sensation of that new depth of penetration shocked both of us.
I sucked in a breath.
He groaned out my name.
And in the next breath, he came, pulsing his release inside the condom as he pumped in and out of me, over and over, until every drop was expelled.
For a long moment, he stayed there, balanced on his hands above me as I released my grip on the sheets. Our breaths slowed, chests aching with the release of air, and he gently withdrew, discarding the condom in the trashcan by his bed before he collapsed back onto the bed.
I didn’t have time to even reach for my panties before he pulled me into him, surrounding me with his arms, his legs, hands weaving into my hair, breath skating over the skin of my neck.
And I didn’t know how to fight what happened next.
My eyes welled with tears, nose stinging as the dam broke loose, and as soon as those tears hit Noah’s chest, he pulled back, worried eyes searching mine.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, wiping at one before Noah took my place, his thumbs brushing over my wet che
eks. “I don’t know why I’m crying.”
“It’s okay,” he responded, voice just as low. “I do.”
My brows pulled together, eyes flicking back and forth between his. “You do?”
He nodded. “I felt it, too, Ruby Grace,” he said, pulling me back into him and surrounding me with his heat, with his weight. “I felt it, too.”
I closed my eyes, two more tears slipping free as I pulled him closer, wanting more, needing to seam us together in every way possible. It didn’t feel real, the whole experience morphing in my mind like a dream I was suddenly aware of, a dream I was about to wake up from.
So, I held on tight, willing it to be true, willing him to be real.
My body succumbed to the darkness, my mind following quickly, every part of me slipping into the promising black space around us like it was the open arms of a long-lost friend.
If he was a dream, I would sleep, just so I could keep him a little longer.
I’d sleep, and maybe — just maybe — I’d wake on a day where I got to keep him forever.
* * *
Noah
God, I don’t want to wake her.
It was all I could think the next morning as I sat on the edge of my bed, watching Ruby Grace sleep. Her hair had fallen out of the tie she’d fastened it in at some point in the night, and wild, red tendrils splayed over my pillow like flower petals. Her mouth was open just a bit, one leg kicked out of the sheets, eyes fluttering a bit behind her lids.
She was dreaming.
I hoped it was of me.
I sighed, watching her with a sinking feeling in my gut. She hadn’t stirred since we fell asleep together, which was late afternoon yesterday, other than when I’d woken her up somewhere around midnight because her sweet ass was rubbing against my erection. We’d slowly made love, both of us on our sides, our eyes still closed, and as soon as we’d both reached our climax, she’d passed out again.
But my body woke me again at five — craving her, craving so, so much more of her.
So, I crawled out of bed — begrudgingly — and got a workout in.
I needed to do something with all the pent-up energy.
Fall in Love Book Bundle: Small Town Romance Box Set Page 297
