He kissed me again, abandoning the soft exploration he had started with. Wedging his hand beneath my neck, he lifted, forcing my head back and my mouth open. The kiss deepened and I felt the first brush of his knuckles against the split of my labia.
I wanted him — had the wet thighs and madly throbbing pussy to prove it. But I didn't want to be another Noah Lodge one night stand.
"Say yes, Patty." Breaking the kiss, he surfed down my body, his hands caressing and molding my flesh with each inch traveled. His mouth stopped at my breast, wetting the fabric around the nipple with a slow, sucking kiss as his fingers tugged at my shorts.
I didn't say yes, neither could I say no. My body had taken up its own rhythm, moving when he moved, lifting to meet his hands and mouth as he stripped my shorts away and buried his face between my legs.
"So wet, baby. So very, very…" He stopped, his tongue laving my clit from up under the hood to the top of its length.
"Wet." He finished with a groan, his lips sealing tight around my flesh.
I was cresting, my hips starting a little dance as his tongue moved up and down my sex. My hands found his head. My fingers knotted in his short hair. I felt the slide of a finger inside me, then two more. I tightened around him, my body beginning to vibrate. I pressed his head tighter to my pussy, riding the heat and force of his mouth. My cunt pulsed, sharp contractions pushing cream from me as his fingers thickly sluiced in and out, turning and flexing to work me into a quick lather.
I cried out his name, pleasure twisting it into a soft mewl as the last thunder of my climax rolled through me. Noah surged back up the bed, his mouth claiming mine in a rough kiss. He'd shed his briefs and I felt the thick slide of his cock over my clit before he lifted his hips and sank into me with one sharp, toe curling thrust. He gripped my head with both hands, more rough kisses falling along my face and throat as his hips began to piston his cock inside me.
He was big, the head of his cock a hard pommel that pounded against my cervix. The beginning of another climax whipped through me. My hips jerked violently. Three gasps burst from me and then a shuddering moan as the contractions squeezed at my uterus. My clit bobbed rhythmically, pulling up with each clenching throb of my orgasm before relaxing.
"God, yes, baby, come for me again." He kept slamming into me, the force of each thrust a sharp contrast to the soft kisses that now whispered along my throat. He moaned my name, told me how hot and tight I was.
I squeezed at him, my cunt hugging the broad shaft and fat head of his cock. Every last inch of flesh felt like it was on fire as I lifted and slammed with him. The very air was ablaze, burning my throat and lungs as I drew in ragged breaths and tried to hold him tighter as my entire body exploded around him.
Noah slowed, his strokes elongating, and I knew he hadn't come yet, was far from finished as his hands began to soothe my flesh, sweet nothings falling from his lips as he cooed at me. He pushed the camisole up, exposing my breasts to his touch and the faint glow of the clock.
Arching his back, he curled around his center, his body contorted so his lips could tease my nipples. His hips took up a slow bouncing rhythm. His cock bobbed left, then right, before he sank balls deep into me.
Nothing comprehensible left my mouth, just long ecstatic moans as he fucked me slow and steady. I tightened around him, my pussy knotting and knotting until his cock felt as thick as a fist moving through me. Hurtling along the edge of another orgasm, I begged him to come with me.
His breathing shallowed until he was taking the same halting gasps of air that fueled my final spastic thrusts. Freezing above me, Noah called me baby one last time. I felt the first jerk of his cock as his release spurted inside me, unleashing another long set of rolling contractions along the walls of my pussy. My muscles milked another thick shot of come from him and then another.
Noah started moving again, his climax spent but his cock still rock hard. Trembling beneath him, I felt my eyes start to roll back in my head. I clutched at his arms, pleading with him to stop before I lost consciousness.
He only relented after he tore one last, screaming orgasm from me.
Collapsing on his side, Noah threw an arm and a leg across me, his face pressed hot and moist against my neck. Squeezing my shoulder, he drew a deep breath in and held it for a few seconds.
"No more pulling away, baby. Promise me."
For all the good it did me, I promised. Naive little fool, I didn't stop to think I'd wake the next morning to find him already planning his retreat.
Accustomed to sleeping alone, I woke several times through the night to find at least one part of Noah covering me. He had an arm cinched around my waist at three am and a muscular thigh draped across mine at three fifty. Four thirty found half his torso along my chest and his hand cupping my breast, the thumb brushing at the straining nipple as he slept with his lips against my throat. Each instance sent me drifting back to blissful slumber.
At seven, the bed was empty.
Wrapping my robe around me, I went into the living room to find him quietly slipping into his clothes.
"You're leaving?"
Noah released a harsh sigh, concentrating on tying his shoes before he said anything. "Couple things I have to take care of today."
He was halfway to the front door before he bothered to look in my direction, averting his eyes the instant they met mine.
"What time…" I stopped before I could ask when he planned on returning — or if he planned on returning. I'd fielded too many calls from too many women asking where Noah was, their needy whines like razors down my back. I wasn't going to be one of them. I'd crumble quietly, in private, and then get back to building my life with him none the wiser.
"Phil's coming by later, you'll be home, right?" His hand was poised on the door knob, his gaze focused somewhere around my bare feet.
I was always home on Sundays. He knew that. Certainly I wasn't out on dates. Not that there weren't offers — but the guys all had the same basic fault.
They weren't Noah.
I glared at him, promising myself next Sunday would be different. "Yeah, but who's Phil?"
"Owns a security company." He was jiggling his car keys in irritation, chomping so hard at the bit to leave it seemed pathological. "Window locks…alarm system."
He lifted his head, locking gazes with me long enough I could see regret sparkling like tears in his eyes. "Patricia…I…"
Whatever he was going to say, he swallowed it down. I shook my head, refusing to be the "thing" he was sorry for. When it was clear he wasn't going to say anything more, I spun on my heels and left the room.
I stalked into my studio and threw the curtains open to let in the morning light. Listening to Noah's car start in the drive, I looked at the illustration I had been working on. It was the cover for a children's picture book — my twentieth and the third with this particular author. Contrary to my plans, I hadn't finished it last night.
I had five more days before I needed to ship it or face the infamous wrath of my publisher's art director — a woman who could not be placated with chocolate or flowers or even lolcats. My gaze tracing the last strokes I had put down, I knew I wasn't going to finish it today. It was a happy book with happy pictures.
I was too damn miserable.
Grabbing my sketchbook and a pencil case, I returned to my bedroom and propped the pillows against the headboard. I sat down, surrounded by the faint scent of Noah's cologne and last night's sex, and started to draw.
Zombies.
Zombies are good. Not in some wholesome sense, obviously. They are decayed potential — the destructive symbol of human will — and they suited my mood perfectly. My pencils moved along the paper without my thinking. Zombie people, zombie dogs, zombie caterpillars. I drew until I filled the sketchbook and then I took a nap.
I woke up on and off. Each time, my gaze landed and then immediately glanced off the cell phone. I was looking for the flashing little green light that meant I had a new text or voicemail. Part of me knew Noah wasn't going to call. Not today — not for several days. He had to work on his excuse for fucking me one night and dumping me the next morning.
At eleven, I went into the bathroom and washed the last of Noah Lodge from my body. Half an hour of hot water later, I was dried and rummaging around my kitchen. Casually inventorying what was available for dinner, I thought about making a southwestern pie — Noah's favorite. I wasn't stupid enough to think he'd show up for dinner, but that was fine by me. I'd make it for myself and freeze the leftovers.
Except I was out of black beans.
I looked at the wall clock before I realized I had no idea what time the security guy was coming over. I didn't even know what company Noah had called.
Swiping at my phone, I sent him a text.
Need to pick up beans for pie — what time is security guy coming by?
I no sooner hit send than I started cussing at my stupidity.
Desperate stupidity — I'd just told him I was making his favorite dish. If that didn't count as a feminine attempt at luring him over, nothing did.
Fifteen minutes later a woman from Darling Security called to make sure I'd be at the house at two. I told her I would and hung up, wondering if her timing was coincidence or if Noah was avoiding me.