Dinner stretches on, the conversation easy, the wine flowing.
Noelle’s at the center of it all, her laughter a thread that ties the room together.
But every time her gaze flicks to one of us, there’s a heat in her gaze that says she’s thinking about it too.
That she’s just as aware of the tension simmering beneath the surface as we are.
After pie and a horribly out-of-tune rendition of “Happy Birthday,” Richard pushes back from the table, stretching with a groan. “I’m beat. You lot clean up, yeah? I’m hitting the sack.”
He presses a kiss to Noelle’s forehead, pulling her into a quick hug before bidding the rest of us goodnight and heading upstairs to his bedroom.
I glance at Grant, then Dean, and the look we share lets me know they’re thinking the same thing I am: that the night’s far from over.
Noelle’s already moving, stacking plates with a practiced ease to take to the kitchen, but there’s a deliberate slowness to her movements now like she knows what’s coming.
I stand, my chair scraping against the floor, and cross the dining room to help her. My hand brushes hers as I take the stack from her grip.
“You don’t have to,” she says, her voice teasing.
I just smile, leaning closer than necessary to whisper into her ear. “What, I can’t be chivalrous?”
Grant’s behind her now, his hands grazing her waist as he reaches for one of the platters.
Dean’s not far behind as he follows her into the kitchen.
He’s handsy when he helps her rinse and dry dishes, making every excuse to rub up against her like a dog in heat.
When everything’s picked up and cleaned, Noelle glances at us.
Her eyes are dark with a different kind of hunger, and then she’s moving, leaving the kitchen to head to her bedroom.
We follow like moths to a flame.
The second we step inside her room, she closes the door behind us and locks it.
Dean’s the first to speak, his voice cutting through the quiet. “Surprised you aren’t scared about us getting caught, sweetheart.”
“He’s always been a hard sleeper. Especially after a long shift at the fire station, and he uses white noise.” She focuses on Grant, then. Turning around and lifting her hair up from the nape of her neck. “Do you mind?”
His hands shake slightly when he lifts them, his fingertips gently gliding over the zipper stretching up her spine.
When he finds the top, he pulls the hook apart and slowly works the zipper down her body.
My cock’s already hardening, the memory of her mouth on me mixing with the anticipation of what’s about to happen.
She lets the dress drop to her feet but doesn’t move.
Only a thin layer of lace covers the rest of her.
Grant’s hands slide down her arms, moving toward the clasp resting at her shoulder blades.
She leans into his touch, her body arching when he unfastens it and lets the lace bra fall to the floor.
She pulls away then, letting her dark hair drop back down and makes her way over to her bed.
She crawls on top of it, turning to face us again and then leans back until she’s spread out before us like a buffet.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” Grant mutters, moving first, and I can’t to agree with him.
