“She started cheating before the wedding. When she got caught, she justified it because I didn’t give her attention. I haven’t seen her since we signed the papers. It’s over, dead and gone.”
Erin slowly reached out a hand and touched his chin. “If it’s confession time, I need to tell you I wasn’t joking when I told you I slept with a guy at 19. It was before I met you.”
“Was he blonde?” Noah tried to keep it light, ignoring the shiver of jealousy.
“Actually, he was tall, blonde, and quiet, totally my type. Not your ‘quiet’ though. You’re the crazy deep thinking and feeling type of quiet.”
“So, Casey Jensen?” Noah picked the most likely candidate from 19. He was right because she blushed and nodded. From his visits to 19, Casey was one of their more solid members, though not exactly showing much initiative.
“This is what I get for telling my battalion chief.” She whacked him with a pillow. “It wasn’t anything like us. We’re… us… I almost never think of him. I constantly think of you.”
“Nice to be memorable,” he pulled the pillow away and dropped another kiss on her mouth.
“I wanted you to know… I don’t know what ‘us’ means yet, but I needed it to have truth and honesty.”
If they were going for honest, this was a good time for a bigger ask. “Come to my house after Not-Thanksgiving?”
“Your house?”
“Yes.”
“You’re inviting me to your house? I get to see where you live, mess up your books, mismatch your shoes.”
“Why would you mismatch my shoes?” he asked. Erin-logic didn’t always make sense.
“It’s a metaphor for messing up your life. Here’s the thing. If you let me in your house, shit gets real.”
“Because this isn’t real?” Noah knew what she meant. They were risking enough as it was—every line they crossed inched them closer to discovery and censure, or worse. It would ruin her career… and topple everything he’d built up these past twenty years.
But he still couldn’t stop.
“Is it real?” This time her question was far more dangerous.
He rolled on top of her, gazing down into her chocolate eyes. Erin Hudgens was his baffling, addicting drug of choice. “Yes, this is real… I made you a key so you can come and go when you want. So go ahead. Mismatch my shoes.”
“‘I gave you a key which makes me your secret girlfriend’ real?” Erin teased and stroked a hand down his shoulder.
It was good of her to remember they couldn’t go public. He’d been ready for her to run, but she seemed pleased instead. “Yes, as long as you want it?”
“Then convince me first.” She laid back, and Noah’s cock rose to the occasion.
“I will.” Without further ado, he guided his stiff erection into her moist center. This time, he didn’t kiss her or touch her. He stayed motionless halfway inside her, pining her down.
“Noah,” she whined, attempting to lift her hips. He widened his thighs, keeping her trapped and impaled on his phallus.
“Come to my house tonight.” He applied a small amount of forward pressure, inching deeper inside of her. As usual, her plush walls massaged his cock, twitching against his invasion.
“I shouldn’t.” Erin dug her fingers into his shoulders, failing to drag him down.
He used his left hand to pry her hands away and imprisoned them above her head, using that arm to keep him away from her body. Instead, his right hand plucked at her nipples one at a time. “You should.”
Now she was quivering and getting wetter by the second. By virtue of her slickness, he kept descending further and further into her without giving her the friction she craved. “No. Noah, I can’t. I—I—Ahhh!”
She arched back when he pinched her clit without warning. Beads of moisture formed a sheen on her skin, and Noah didn’t think there was a more beautiful slight than Erin at his mercy, needing the release only he could give her.
“You can. Come to my house. Say ‘yes,’ and I’ll let you come. Then I’ll pound you till you come again. And once I’ve done that, I’ll pour my cum in your sweet tight honeypot.” Dirty talk was more her thing than his, but it was working remarkably well.
“Noah!” she keened, eyes half-lidded and breasts heaving. “Please.”
