He reaches out, brushing his knuckles along my arm. “Hey, it is. Lots of people don’t bother or can’t do it themselves. You’ve put the work in. I’m really proud of you.”
I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to how good it feels to hear that from him.
Noah’s hand lingers a moment longer before he shifts closer, his blue eyes softer now, his voice dropping seductively low. “You tired?”
“Not yet,” I manage, trying to keep a chuckle from coming. He’s so obvious, and I love that. I love knowing what to expect from him.
His mouth curves into a slow, lazy smile. “Can I kiss you?”
Even though I knew it was coming, I laugh. He asks most nights, like every moment is a choice. He always gives me that, a way to say yes or no. Either with a question or his actions. I wiggle closer, pressing a kiss to his jaw. He hums, turning his head to capture my mouth.
I move until we’re chest-to-chest, until I can feel the warmth radiating off him. His tongue slides against mine until I’m breathless. He groans into my mouth when I thread my fingers through his hair, holding him there.
When I slide my hand down his chest, over the ridges of his stomach, his muscles twitch under my palm. I keep going,following the dips and ridges of his sculpted form, the trail of hair leading to the waistband of his briefs until I can feel him, hot and hard, against my hand through the fabric.
Noah’s breath shudders. “Gabe—”
I squeeze, then stroke him once through the thin material, and his head tips back, a carnal sound tearing from his chest.
I lean closer, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “I want to taste you.”
The words feel foreign in my mouth—awkward, almost embarrassing. I’m not used to voicing what I want. But being with Noah is unfurling something in me. Every kiss, every soft, filthy word, every careful touch tells me I can trust him. That I can trust my body with him. I know—in my heart, in my bones—he will never push me somewhere I don’t want to go.
Noah makes a sound that’s half groan, half desperation, his hips jerking up into my hand like he can’t help himself. The reaction pulls something fierce through me. Power, maybe—but not the sharp kind I used to fear. This is light, a high that makes my chest ache with something I can only call healing.
“You sure?” Noah’s voice is hoarse.
“Yes,” I whisper. My voice trembles, but the certainty in it feels brand new.
Something dark and hungry flashes in his eyes, but he stays perfectly still, letting me decide.
I sit up, straddling his legs, my hands sliding down his pecs, his stomach, tracing defined muscle until I reach the waistband of his briefs. He’s so hard, straining against the fabric, and my mouth waters at the sight.
Instead of tugging them down right away, I lean in, pressing my mouth to his chest. I kiss him there until I reach one of his nipples. I take it into my mouth and suck gently, and the sound Noah makes isfilthy—a deep groan that shoots straight to my cock.
“Fuck,Gabe,” he rasps, hands fisting in the sheets.
I do it again, slower this time, tongue flicking against the stiffened bud before I let go and move to the other one. He arches under me, muttering more curses. I keep going, kissing down his abs one by one, following the trail of golden hair that leads lower. His stomach tenses with every press of my mouth.
When I reach the waistband of his briefs, I nuzzle him there, feeling the shape of him against my cheek through the fabric. He makes a sound like he’s coming apart—a harsh, guttural groan—and I swear I’ve never heard anything so good in my life.
“Fuck, baby, you’re driving me wild,” he grits out.
I hook my fingers into the waistband and tug them down. I watch as his cock springs free. My mouth goes dry, my pulse hammering. He’s perfect. Thick and flushed, already leaking.
Noah’s hands look like they’re gripping the sheets for dear life. His cheeks are pink, his hair a wild tangle of gold, pupils blown wide, and he looksruinedalready, just from me looking at him like this.
I settle between his thighs, my hands firm on them, and lean in until my breath ghosts over him. The first brush of my lips against the head of his cock makes him tremble. I lick him slowly from base to tip, taking my time, savoring the taste of him, the faint tang of salt on my tongue. The moment I take him into my mouth, his hips twitch, and he groans, making heat flood my whole body.
I’m making him feel this way.Me.
“That’s it,” he pants, eyes trained on me. “Fuck, Gabe, you lookso prettywith my cock in your mouth.”
The words make warmth pool low in my stomach, and I can’t help the happy sigh I release around his length. Ifeelpretty, sucking his cock. He makes me feel beautiful and lovely even in moments like this. I lick him again, my tongue tracing every ridge, every vein. I wrap my hand around the base, steadyinghim, and take the head into my mouth. The noise that rips out of him will be embedded in my mind forever.
I go slow, letting my lips stretch around him, sucking just enough to make his hips jerk. My other hand presses against his stomach, holding him down when his body tries to make little aborted thrusts up into my mouth.
“Oh, fuck,” he grits out, voice rough. “That feels too fucking good.”
