Page 63

“Noah,” I warn quietly.

He starts to move, mouth grazing along my ribs, lips dragging slow over the edge of my bra as he noses my shirt higher, exposing inch after inch. My tablet slips sideways off my lap, thudding softly to the floor, but I barely notice—too focused on the heat of his breath and the way his hands are sliding up my sides.

He kisses one breast, then the other, and my breath hitches so hard it makes my teeth clench. I fist a hand in the back of his shirt, anchoring myself.

“I think I’m ready,” he whispers against my skin.

The world slows. He’s still there, still half-curled against me, hand braced against my hip, lips parted above my sternum.

I study him for a moment, blinking slowly, and then reach down to thread my fingers into his hair.

“You sure?” I ask, voice soft.

He nods without looking up. “Yeah. I trust you.”

Fuck, here we go.

I draw in a slow breath, fingers drifting to his temple, brushing softly until he leans into the touch. I let my thumb slide down, dragging over his soft lower lip. “You are?” I murmur, quiet as a breath.

“Mhm.” It comes out on an exhale, warm against my skin as he presses the faintest kiss to the pad of my thumb. “I’ll be so good,” he whispers. “I promise.”

A smirk tugs at the edge of my mouth as I tip my head, eyes tracking every twitch of his body.

“Oh?” I say, tone light despite the sudden rush of heat pooling between my thighs. “So now it’s your turn, huh?”

“Yeah.” His throat works around a hard swallow. “Just… let me try.”

He moves carefully, like touching me too fast might scare me off or wake him from a dream. His hands slip beneath my hips, coaxing me deeper into the cushions, and I let him, arms slack at my sides, legs open and easy. His breath hitches and he pauses for a second, long enough to breathe me in.

He leans down and presses a kiss to the curve of my sternum, then higher, until his lips brush over my collarbone. Then he bites. Not hard. But it’s enough to make me hiss through my teeth. His mouth is there immediately after, tongue sweeping over the sting, soothing it.

“I—” he starts, voice breaking like he’s about to apologize—but then he stops himself, shaking his head once, like no, not this time.

“Hands…” His voice cracks. He clears his throat and tries again. “Hands above your head. Please.”

I raise them without a word, folding my wrists over the pillow.

“Oh fuck,” he breathes, eyes tracking the motion. “Okay. Just—don’t move. Please.”

I stay still.

His gaze drags up the exposed inches of skin, lingering over every single dip and curve, then finally settles on my face. His voice is shaking when he speaks again, but there’s steel behind it. Fragile steel, but steel nonetheless. “Good. Don’t look away. Just like that.”

He shifts back, breath shallow, hands fumbling at his waistband. When he finally frees his cock, it’s flushed and leaking, twitching in his grip. He wraps one unsteady hand around the base and strokes himself once, spreading the pre-come across the head with his thumb.

Then he leans forward, careful and tentative, one hand braced beside my head, the other guiding himself. His tip brushes my lips, and he freezes.

“I—can I?” he asks, voice trembling.

I open my mouth for him, tongue out, waiting.

His breath stutters. “Fuck.”

He slides in, just the head at first, cautious, like he’s afraid of pushing too far. His hips hover, barely moving, waiting.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he whispers. “Two taps and I’ll stop. Promise.”

Something about it—him using the system that’s usually reserved for him, still giving me control even as he takes it—makes my lashes flutter shut and my pussy clench around nothing.