Then.
He draws that fabric back, hand caressing the lace bra. Thumb stroking the plumped-up mound I hadn’t realized was so sensitive to the touch.
This time, that moan escapes on a sigh. Relief. Pleasure.
God, I love having my boobs played with and it’s been too long—way too long. I love it. I. love. it.
“So pretty,” he’s murmuring again, leaning in, pushing back the bra, mouth latching onto my nipple and my hands now fully buried in this thick hair, wanting him to stay this way forever and give me all the ’gasms.
Sue me for being lazy and wanting to just lie here, but c’mon!
Noah sucks, his tongue pure magic. So magical I swear, if he sucks my nipple long enough, I may end up coming. No lie. It feels that amazing or I’m that easy—does it even matter?
No.
All that matters is this boy.
He does not miss a beat, suckling at the same time his hands go to the little knotted belt at my waist, tugging hard enough to release the loop. Big, warm, calloused hand roaming over my stomach, down to the waistband of the granny panties I wore so I wouldn’t have sex with him on the first date.
So much for that dumb idea.
“Cute.” I feel him smile, lips and hands all over my body.
My knees spread at the welcome intrusion, already weakened. I am wanton.
He makes me feel sexy, the way he’s gazing up at me, as if I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on, and isn’t that the way it’s supposed to be when you find someone you think might…
I stop my mind from wandering, so I can stay in the moment. So I can feel his hands and mouth and tongue.
Lips kiss my pelvis.
Lips kiss along the waistband of my Hanes.
Oh yeah.
Praise be! Yes! Don’t stop.
He moves over me, in between my legs, positioned to pleasure, wide shoulders inching my thighs apart. I moan with anticipation, then moan again when his warm breath hits the valley I desperately want him exploring. Hot. Warm. Breath.
Hot. Wet. Pussy.
My head thrashes on the floor, fingers clenching the carpet, pulling, then reaching for his hair. Gently tugging.
Noah buries his face. Licks my panties, so they’re good and wet. Tugs on them. Pulls. Creates a friction so delicious I groan out loud and pant his name, throw a little Jesus into the mix along with it.
“Oh lord, Noah.” Oh god.
I’m not sure what to do with myself, not having done this in who knows how long—porn does not count. Watching a man go down on a woman is not like having a man’s head between one’s legs, the feel of his body keeping your legs spread apart. The soft hair on his head as you grip it, muttering and praying to the heavens above.
“Thank you, Lord,” I mouth to the ceiling, convinced once and for all that the stars are aligning and good luck is on my side.
First the city approving my business plan. Then the landlord accepting my application to rent the office space. Noah buying my cards, so I have the money to pay my rent, to hire an architect and a social media/bookkeeper/office manager person.
Why am I thinking about work when his tongue is—
“Oh! Yes…” Keep doing that. That, right there.
Noah goes at me hard, mouth working my clit through the thin fabric of my panties, something I’ve only fantasized about. It feels so frigging good—so sexy.
I leverage my body up a bit, resting on my elbows so I can get a view of his blond head, face buried, eyes closed.
My head tips back but I stay elevated, wanting to enjoy the show. It turns me on more to see him going down on me, even with these half-hooded eyes of mine.
Noah pulls his head back, fingers easing their way beneath the panties. Hooking either side of the waistband, hauling them down. Down. Towing them all the way off and discarding them at my feet, his mouth glistening.
“You taste so fucking good” are the last words he says before diving back in, lips and tongue and teeth clashing over my clit, licking and sucking until I’m moaning out loud—loud enough, it seems, to wake the dead.
Loud enough that I would be embarrassed if I cared enough to be embarrassed.
I don’t.
The noise doesn’t faze him, only seems to spur him on, arms hooking under my knees, pulling me deeper into his mouth. Spreads my legs wider. Kisses harder.
Everything quivers. Shakes. Vibrates.
I squirm.
He holds me down.
I gnash my teeth.
Noah braces my hips.
He is not letting me weasel my way out. He is going to refuse to—“Fuck me. Oh my god, I want to feel you inside of me so bad.”
He ignores me, sucking harder.
I tip my head back, hair landing on the carpet beneath me, mouth open, eyes squeezed shut.
“Come for me, baby,” he urges, still lapping me up like it’s his day job and he’s gunning for a bonus.
“I want to come so bad,” I moan like a porn star, beginning a slow roll of my hips, mimicking the motion I’d make if he were actually inside, screwing me. Grip his head, yanking on his hair as gently as I can—which isn’t all that gentle given how lost in the moment I am.
How lost we are.
He’s enjoying it too—I can tell by the noises he’s making in his throat. How he’s looking at my pussy when he runs his fingers over my clit. How he watches me as his fingers go inside.
Jesus he’s good at this.
I wonder how many women he’s had to sleep with to achieve this skill level…
Stop it, Miranda. He isn’t that kind of guy.
Noah is sweet and shy and sexy—hardly the womanizing playboy his friend Buzz is. Or maybe he doesn’t have to work at it at all; maybe the women flock to him without him even trying. Oh my god, there
