between mine and grinding his stiff dick against me. I bring my legs up and hook a toe into either side of his waistband, push his shorts down to his ankles. I love his weight. I love how warm his skin is on mine, love the insistent push of his hips, his thick, ready cock finding my entrance.
“Jesus, Noah.” I slide my hands to his ass, feel his muscles working as his thrusts tease me.
“You need lube?”
“I don’t think so.”
“You comfortable?”
My bare ass is on the hardwood, shoulders and head on the rug. I’ll probably end up with both bruises and rug burn, but right now I can’t be bothered about it. “Just fuck me, Noah.”
He reaches down, eases his dick inside my pussy, finds me wet after an inch of tight friction. He slides in and out until the fucking’s smooth and easy. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “Good girl.”
“More.”
“You’re so wet.” He repeats it a couple times, finding his rhythm. The room is dark except for the reading lamp by the door, but I can see everything I want—all the shapes and shadows of his fantastic body, the cut of his triceps, and the swell of his ass.
“Abby,” he moans, and steadily his body slows until he’s just braced above me, breathing hard. It makes me nervous, makes me worry he’s thinking about the whole Rob thing, that it short-circuited his brain or his dick.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, holding my breath.
“Nothing…”
“Are you sure?”
“Can I go down on you?”
“Oh,” I say, as intrigued as I am relieved. “Sure.”
He pulls out and sits back, his eyes glued to mine as he runs two fingers over my pussy lips. “Sit on the couch,” he says. I like the bossy edge to his voice.
I move to the edge of the cushions, and Noah pushes the table to the side, gets in front of me on the floor, takes hold of my hips, and brings his face in close. “You smell so good.”
I hold my breath, waiting. I’ve missed this the last six months—seeing a man on his knees, mouth between my legs. Noah kisses my clit, and I groan, curl my whole body into the pleasure. Heat pools against his lapping tongue, and I rake my fingers through his short hair, wanting to possess him. His licks are firm and slick and explicit, tight little strokes thrumming my clit, complemented by the soft brush of his stubbly chin against my tender lips. I close my eyes and imagine him above me, coming. I imagine watching him come, not just his face but his cock, his hand as he strokes himself, loses control, and shoots across my stomach or breasts. The heat mounts, and my legs tremble, my feet feel tingly, and my clit is burning up.
“Don’t stop.”
He keeps his tongue working and moans, the sound vibrating through my body and magnifying all the sensations. One hand leaves my leg, and I feel his knuckles brush my pussy, tease my crease before he slides two fingers inside.
I keep one possessive hand on the back of his head, then palm my breast with the other. I study his strong arms and shoulders, the shape of his eyebrows. “Yeah. Fuck me, Noah.”
He moans again, deep, and it pushes me over the edge. My pleasure reaches its peak against his fluttering tongue, hot tremors tightening and bursting and wringing me out until his licks are too much, and I have to scoot back to escape the sensations. He moves his mouth lower, lapping up my cum with hungry, happy noises. I catch my breath while he feasts, stroke his hair, feel spent and grateful and spoiled.
“Thank you,” I mumble as he leans back on his haunches.
He grins and squeezes my thighs. “Don’t thank me for that.” He gets up to sit beside me. “ I fucking love eating pussy.”
I take a final steadying breath. I glance at the big bandage on his knee, wonder if my hardwood has exacerbated the damage already done by my sidewalk. “You ready to give me something else now?”
He nods. There’s an intensity to his eyes that thrills me. I recline as he gets a leg between mine,