As quickly as she’d fallen, she sat back up. Her gaze found his, and despite the languid satisfaction of her expression, she still bore signs of arousal. Heavy lids, an inability to steady her oxygen intake. “No,” she said.
“No?” He blinked down at her. “No, you won’t tell me? Or no, I can’t use it?”
“No, you’re not leaving me and taking care of that on your own.” At “that,” she motioned to his straining cock.
Torturing him … “Safer that way.” The urge to do more to her, to have more of her … can’t, you can’t.
Her lashes fused together, hiding the perilous glitter of her eyes. Without another word, she reached out, unbuttoned and unzipped him, then jerked his underwear out of the way. “You’re not going to deny me this. And you’re not going to give it to someone else, even if that someone is yourself. It’s mine. I earned it.”
Hers. Fuck, but he’d never heard a more arousing speech. His c**k sprang free, the tip already weeping. He should have moved away from her. Instead, he whipped his arms behind his back. He didn’t have to ask what she was doing. He knew, and he craved. He was ashamed of himself, but yeah, he craved.
She wrapped her fingers around the shaft, seeming to marvel that the tips couldn’t close. “You said before that you won’t let me blow you. Is your answer still no, even if I’m dying to do it?”
“Noelle,” he gritted. To have a woman willingly taste him …
“I’ll take that as a yes. Please do it.”
Good, because that’s how he’d meant it.
She turned them both so that he was the one propped against the mattress and dropped to her knees. Then she fit her lips around the head of his cock, the wet heat of her scorching him perfectly. Down, down she slid on him, her teeth scraping him, until his length hit the back of her throat.
So good, so damn good. The shame vanished, and no guilt pierced him. Just the sweetest pleasure.
Never before like this. Sweat broke out in beads over his skin, his veins expanding to contain the ferocity of his arousal.
The urge to hold her, to guide her, was almost too much for him. So he moved his hands up, curling his fingers behind his neck, forming claws and locking down. Careful, he had to be careful. Already his forearms were hot enough to blister. Still he didn’t tell her to stop.
He’d already lost that battle.
Up and down, up and down, she ate at him, swallowing the pre-come still leaking from him, humming as if she loved the taste. One of her hands played with his testicles, tugged on them.
He was so used to forcing himself to come as quickly as possible, he currently lacked stamina. And the fact that it was Noelle between his legs, Noelle sucking his cock, Noelle driving him to the brink, Noelle’s taste still in his mouth, down his throat, he wouldn’t have lasted anyway.
He’d never in his life been so turned on.
“I’m going to … if you don’t pull away … you’ll …” No one had ever swallowed him. Always he’d come in a condom, or told the woman to move away so he could shoot on the floor.
Noelle increased the speed of her strokes, the ferociousness of her suction, until he forgot his hands, forgot his ability, the problems, complications, reasons they should stay away from each other and exploded, jetting into her mouth.
He roared like an animal, out of control, utterly lost, never wanting to be found. The pleasure … too much, soul-changing, everlasting. Every muscle he possessed clenched, knotted. And he just kept coming and coming, and she just kept swallowing every drop.
Afterward, as he lay there, fighting for breath, she crouched beside him, careful not to touch him, and met his gaze. Her cheeks were flushed. She was panting, licking her lips as if she’d enjoyed him with the same intensity he’d enjoyed her.
“Okay?” she asked him.
He nodded, unsure he could find his voice. His arms had stopped glowing, but though they had immediately cooled down with his release, they were still too hot to be handling her.
A slow smile spread across those swollen bedroom lips. “And we’ll do this again?”
Another nod, a little wary, a lot shocked. She wanted more of him? After all the work she’d had to do, she hadn’t decided he was just a one-time thing?
The smile grew, became dazzling, more wicked than sensual. There were so many facets to her personality, he thought. The playful little girl, the vicious revenge-hungry woman. The seductress, the innocent. The giver, the taker. The game-player.
He wanted to f**k them all.
“Good,” she said, purring like a contented kitten. “Because now I know what we’re having for dinner tomorrow night.”
Twenty-three
HE WAS A BASTARD, Hector thought the next morning.
He should have phoned Noelle. Picked her up. They should have driven to Bobby Marks’s house together. Instead, he now climbed the steps to Marks’s front door on his own.
Hector had ditched her.
After last night, he just wasn’t ready to see her. Even the thought of her fired him up, distracting him. And now that he knew the honey that awaited him between her legs, how the hell was he supposed to work a case with her at his side and not toss her down and ravage her every other minute?
He’d call her later. Apologize. Maybe she’d forgive him, maybe she wouldn’t.
If she decided to end this thing between them, he’d be better off. She would be better off.
His hands fisted, and rage sparked inside his chest. Can’t lose her.
You will eventually.
Those sparks heated.
Concentrate. He jerked on his gloves and rang the doorbell. He’d once again tried calling Brenda Marks, Bobby’s mother, who lived a few houses down. No luck. When he finished here, he planned to go there. So far, Noelle’s pregnancy story had overshadowed everything else, as hoped.
Noelle … pregnant …
Fucking concentrate.
Hector waited, expecting a servant. No one came to the door, so he rang again. The sky was cloudy, gray, a storm brewing. He felt as if he were being watched, but found no evidence of cameras, no one peeking from slits in the blinds.
He waited a few more minutes, then looked around. A Mercedes meandered along the street. Across the way, a human male—tall, lean, dark hair, handsome, probably some rich woman’s boy toy—walked a shaggy white dog, paying Hector no attention.
There were four other homes around this one, each one bigger than the last. Lots of white marble, luscious trees, and colorful arrays of flowers. Again, no one watched him from the windows.