Part 50 (1/2)

Still staring deep into his eyes, I did nothing but nod.

I was done too and I was very, very glad I was.

”Yeah,” he muttered like I spoke my words aloud, his gaze falling to my mouth.

”Noc.” I said his name with a different purpose this time, swaying toward him.

”Shoulda known that mouth would be sweet,” he murmured.

I had the feeling Noc needed to take hold of me somewhere other than my jaw, for if he kept speaking words like that while gazing at my mouth, my legs were going to give way.

He dipped his head so I could feel his breath caress my lips.

”But in all the time I spent wondering how sweet it would be, never in my wildest dreams would I imagine it's as sweet as it is.”

Yes.

He needed to hold me elsewhere or I'd crumple at his feet.

”Noc,” I whispered yet again.

He didn't kiss me as I expected him to do.

Wanted him to do.

No.

His hands went from my jaw to my bottom, his fingers clenched in, and I gasped when I was lifted up.

With no choice, my legs curled around his hips, and in no time he'd entered the bed on his knees and placed me on it.

He then placed him on me.

It was then he kissed me.

And it was then something happened that had never happened to me.

I had exceptional skills at making love. I'd made a practice of it to the point I'd made an art of it. My approach to it was considered, deliberate, unhurried. A climax was not an occasion to rush to but a sensation to shape and manipulate, and when reached, to revel in...languidly.

Noc did not make love like this.

Further, Noc did not do what I selected lovers in the past exclusively to do.

This being allow me to lead the festivities.

Noc took over.

He also was not considered, deliberate, unhurried.

He kissed deeply, demanding much in return in a way it was impossible not to give it to him, desire to give it to him, have that become the entire reason for your existence. He did this with his mouth, his tongue, his teeth and his hands.

Those roamed everywhere, as if he'd been starved of human touch the entirety of his life and he was making up for that in a matter of seconds.

I couldn't keep up. I couldn't slow him down.

And I didn't want to.

His taste, his touch, everything he was doing was drawing out extraordinary sensations I couldn't control.

Beauty beyond imagining.

In an instant I needed more.

In the next instant, I craved it.

Without warning, he tore his mouth from mine and pushed up to his knees between my legs in the bed.

I stared up at him, finding myself panting, my body singing, watching the beauty of his face now carved with pa.s.sion, but noting his hands had lifted to unb.u.t.ton his s.h.i.+rt.

I took that as a cue to release my belt.

I did so, the heavy metal slid to the sides, and without its fastener, the soft material of the dress parted, exposing the undergarments Valentine had given me.

They were, incidentally, the only part about my attire (at the time) that I liked unreservedly.

Cream lace so delicate, it was a miracle of construction. s.h.i.+ny, soft satin that was a marvel at the seat and along the gusset (but not at the front, that was lace) of my panties as well as at the bottom of the cups of my bra.s.siere.

They were divine.

One look at Noc's face told me he felt the same way.

”G.o.dd.a.m.ned f.u.c.k,” Noc growled with such ferocity, I stilled.

And if what we'd done before was not unhurried, deliberate, considered, I was about to learn the meaning of lovemaking entirely void of these concepts.

And enjoy every fiery second.

He tore the s.h.i.+rt from his shoulders, tossed it aside, and in a blur of movement I felt his arm drive under me, pulling up at the middle of my back.

I cried out in surprise at the unexpected arch but my next cry was much different when Noc used his other hand to drag down the lacy material of the cup of the bra.s.siere. Then Noc's mouth was fastened to my nipple, drawing in.

Harsh.

Strong.

The force of the pull tore from nipple to c.l.i.toris, buzzing there with such intensity, I had no thought. I felt the beads he'd given me glide up and rest lightly at my throat but the extreme sensitivity of my skin made them feel like I was held there by a caressing hand.

I moved instinctively, the fingers of one hand into his hair to grasp him there, the other one dragging my nails down his back.

At this touch, Noc released my nipple, his lips speeding up my chest, my neck, over my chin to my mouth, my back still arched at his arm's command, his lips now to mine, his eyes molten.