She dips her head in a nod and turns to face me, holding still as I begin to smooth the soap over her body, starting at her neck and shoulders. I run the soap down her arms and her hands, over each finger before I move to her stomach, following the curves of her, up and over her ribs.
Her breath catches as I move over her full breasts, watching the suds smooth over the swells and drip down her nipples. Her lashes flutter, and my teeth snap together, and I quickly move away, but she grabs my wrists, stopping my retreat.
“Keep going,” her voice shakes, pupils blown as she pleads me with her eyes.
“That feel good, baby?”
Another hitch of breath sounds in the shower, and she runs her tongue along her bottom lip, dipping her chin in a nod.
“Tell me.” I order softly.
“It feels good, Noah.” She breathes.
“What feels good?”
Hearing her say it is as much of a craving as a taste. Listening to the words roll off her tongue, the truth of what we are as sweet as music.
“Your hands on my body.”
My teeth sink into my lip as I place my hands back where she wants them, my thumbs gently teasing over her hardening nipples. I fucking love how responsive she is to my touch, and I can’t help but wonder if I’d be able to make her come, just like this. Work her without ever touching her pretty pussy, tease and stroke and touch until her body simply can’t take anymore.
She closes her eyes and pushes out her chest for more, and for her, I’d give the damn world.
Chapter Nineteen
My skin pebbles as his hands work over my breasts, fingers gently teasing over my nipples. It has my stomach tightening and my blood singing.
I’ve never been intimate while on my period, it’s never really interested me and while it is only his hands sliding across my skin, it feels like it could be enough to have me falling apart. It’s the whisper of his fingers on my nipples, the slight sting as he pinches them. It sounds impossible to my brain, but then it’s Noah, and well… Noah has a way of playing my body like it’s an instrument only he knows how to play. He’s mastered it, knows every string and key.
“Noah,” his name is moaned on a whisper. One hand remains playing with my nipple, the other slips downmy sternum, the tips of his fingers so soft against my skin, but I’m so sensitive, my muscles jump wherever he passes.
“So fucking pretty, Sid,” he says the words with reverence, like I am the altar at which he worships.
Just pretend. Pretend that this is us and this is what we have always done.
But I don’t want to pretend.
I want this to be real.
His hand slips closer to my pussy, but he never dips between my legs. I’m not sure I want him to, but he also doesn’t need to with the way he knows me.
My body tightens when he pinches my nipple between his fingers; my breasts are already sensitive as it is, and the first tingles of a climax work down my spine. My knees wobble a little, and I force my eyes open, making sure this isn’t a dream. I’m met with a slight, knowing smirk, Noah watching my every move, every flicker on my face.
“You’re close,” he growls, “So responsive for me. So fucking greedy. I love it.”
“Fuck,” I stutter out as my stomach tightens, and he leans forward, sucking my nipple into his mouth.
I come undone immediately; the warm flick of his tongue against the sensitive tip of my nipple has me unraveling with a moan. He slides his hand around to my spine, pressing it flat to keep me in place while his teeth tease and his tongue licks it better.
I clench, the feeling foreign but not unpleasant, the orgasm different to what I’m used to. Going limp in his hold, he tightens his arms, keeping me upright as hekisses up my chest, to my throat and then my jaw before he rests his forehead against mine, letting me catch my breath.
“Let’s get your hair washed out,” he kisses the corner of my mouth, making me even more weak in the damn knees. His hands feel like heaven as he runs them through my hair, washing out the conditioner, and then he guides me from the shower and wraps a warm towel around me, passing me another so I can wrap up my hair.
I leave him to finish his own shower, stopping in the second bathroom to sort myself out before I go in search of a pair of boxers and clean shorts, rifling through his drawers until I find the biggest and comfiest pair.
I have my own clothes here, but why would I wear them when I can wear his?
I locate my brush and a hair tie so I can quickly braid my hair and then pad through his penthouse, listening to him in the shower. Today has been better than perfect. It was simple and cozy, and relaxing, and I hadn’t realized just how badly I needed it.
