Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 96712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
After Noah’s done, he shudders and pulls out of my mouth. Then he sort of falls on top of me, as if his limbs can no longer hold him up, and straddles my lap.
I haven’t had the chance to even swallow before he takes my mouth with his in a searing kiss. This is usually the part where I’d run away from my hookup, so it takes me off guard that not only is this guy kissing me with the taste of himself on my tongue, but that I like it. Love it, even. Hottest sexual experience of my life.
Noah pulls away. “We need that shower. We’ll be landing soon.”
Reluctantly, I let him go, and he climbs off me. Noah’s comfortable moving around the cabin naked, but paranoia kicks in. I stand and tuck myself away.
“Noah?”
He pauses at the door to the bathroom.
“There aren’t like … surveillance cameras in here, are there?”
He flinches back. “Wow. The high from coming really doesn’t last long with you, huh?”
“I didn’t mean—”
“No, you jackass. There aren’t any cameras in here. I wouldn’t film anyone while I got them off. At least, not without telling them. I’m not that much of an asshole.” He heads for the bathroom again.
On shaky legs, I follow him. “I didn’t mean it to sound accusatory.”
Noah ignores me and closes the shower door behind him.
“I’m sorry,” I say loud enough for him to hear over the spray.
He turns and pierces me with an exasperated gaze. “Hurry up and get in here.”
I strip and join him, wrapping my arms around him from behind, because I’m not convinced he believes my apology. “I was honestly asking because I was trying to figure out if we had to find a way to destroy the footage. I wasn’t going to be mad if there was a tape. It’s just, Damon would kill me if a sex tape got out, and not thinking about this stuff has clearly bitten me in the ass before.”
Noah leans back against me. His ass presses against my half-hard dick. My lips find the back of his neck and trail down to his shoulder.
Noah was right about one thing. I’m more relaxed around him now. Or maybe that’s the aftereffects of a mind-blowing orgasm. It might be official: blowjobs fix everything.
“Do you realize you’ve had like three showers today?” I chuckle against his neck.
“What can I say, you make me feel dirty. And as much as I’d love round two, we don’t have time,” Noah says. “If we’re not back in our seats for landing, they will come in here to get us.” He turns in my arms, and I love the feel of him against me. I’m regretting not doing this the first time he asked. “But I promise there’ll be more once we get home.”
With a quick kiss and a rinse off later, I have to grab a new shirt from my duffel bag because mine is covered in my cum. “I told you it was messy. Even with the shower.”
“I like messy. I like being marked.”
And I’m hard again. Fuckin’ hell.
“Don’t give me that heated stare with your sweet brown eyes,” Noah says. “We don’t have time. Buckle up.”
I slump in my seat and throw my head back, closing my eyes.
“Oh, and Matt?”
“Mmhmm?”
“Welcome to the mile-high club.”
I grin and do my internal victory dance when I score a touchdown. I’m not one of the guys who dances in the end zone. I’m more of a fist pump, yell, and get tackled by teammates kinda guy. Or … I was. I wonder if that’ll change with a new team that knows I’m gay. If I even get a contract.
When Noah gives me a questioning look, I say, “You admitted blowjobs count. Guess I’m not a virgin, huh?”
Noah’s face falls. “Damn it. Okay, you win this one.”
Chapter Eight
Noah
By the time our chauffeured car pulls up to my brownstone, it’s late and I’m ready for bed but not necessarily to sleep.
The in-flight blowjob only took the edge off. Or perhaps it was the appetizer. I’m ready for the main course. I should probably take things slow with Matt, but it’s not like we’re doing this for real. We’ll be pretend boyfriends who fuck. He won’t ask more of me.
That’s what Aron said in the beginning.
I don’t have time to dwell on that thought because Matt grabs his duffel bag out of the trunk.
“That’s what the driver is for,” I say.
Matt scoffs, tips the driver, and then grabs my suitcase and wheels it behind him. “Scared you’ll get calluses if you carry your own stuff?”
“It’s his job.”
“Come on, money bags, show me your mansion. I didn’t get a good look last time I was here.”
True. The night we met, I could tell he was there, but he wasn’t really there. His mind was in survival mode.