Page 21 of Crawl for Me
The heat between Noah and me is still there , pulsing under the surface, but it’s dulled now, edged out by cheap car upholstery and Sam groaning softly every time the driver hits a bump.
I fold my arms and stare out the window, trying to keep my mind on the one task at hand instead of how his fingers felt inside me and how Eleanor looked us up and down like she damn well knew what we’d been doing.
Forty minutes later, we wrestle Sam out of the car and haul him into the building. Through the lobby, into the elevator, down the hall in a slow, clumsy procession with him mumbling nonsense between us the whole way.
By the time we reach my apartment, I’m sweating and done.
We shuffle him through the door, past the heap of my shoes, past what’s left of my pride, and finally drop him onto the couch. He lands with a groan, already half-asleep and snoring, and I grab a throw blanket from the armchair and toss it over him.
I straighten up slowly, pressing a hand into my lower back. “Well,” I say. “That was a fucking buzzkill.”
Noah’s standing behind the couch, hair ruffled from my hands, collar still crooked. He shifts on his feet awkwardly before glancing up at me. “Do you want help? Or… do you need anything?”
“It’s fine. You can go home,” I tell him, brushing my palms down the front of my dress.
But he doesn’t move. He just stands there, shoulders tight, watching me. The silence stretches until it presses too close, and I can feel his eyes on me even as I fuss pointlessly with the edge of the blanket.
“Do you… want me to? Do you want me to leave?”
My heart thumps wickedly, the beat echoing hard through my ribs. Do I want him to leave? No. I don’t want him to leave. I don’t want him gone. I want to finish what we started.
I shake my head once, voice barely more than a whisper. “No.”
Before he can speak, I move. Rounding the couch, I slip my fingers through his and pull him with me toward my room.
“We have to be quiet,” I murmur, easing the door shut with a soft click.
His nod is frantic, throat working as he swallows hard. I press forward, step by step, until the backs of his knees catch the mattress and he stumbles down onto it, palms braced on the quilt.
I cross to the dresser, tugging open the top drawer, fabric shifting under my hands—silk, lace, cotton—until my fingers find the box shoved beneath the pile.
The faint rip of cardboard stirs the silence as I pluck a foil packet free, and behind me he lets out a ragged, shaky breath that’s louder than any word he could’ve said.
The straps of my dress slip easily under my fingers, sliding down my shoulders, the whole thing falling away in one clean movement. Silk puddles at my feet, cool against my bare skin.
“Look at you,” I murmur, lowering myself into his lap, thighs bracketing his. “Already shaking.”
His hands drag slowly up my thighs, fingers splayed wide. “God—you’re beautiful.”
I grab his tie, wrench it loose, fling it aside, and hook my fingers into his collar. One hard tug and he’s upright, mouth crashing into mine, our tongues meeting as he groans into me.
I break the kiss just long enough to slide my hand between us, unbuckling his belt, tugging at his zipper. He helps, fumbling, breath stuttering as we work him free. His cock springs up, flushed and leaking, twitching against my palm when I wrap my fingers around him.
Every sweet, broken moan he spills into my shoulder as I slowly stroke him only makes my pussy wetter. I press my lips to his temple, whispering softly. “So fucking hard for me already. So greedy, aren’t you?”
His whole body jerks, hips bucking into my fist. “Oh fuck ,” he gasps. “I’m gonna—shit—I’m gonna lose it the second you’re on me. Fuck—fuck—I won’t be able to hold it.”
“Shh.” My mouth tips into a smirk as my thumb circles the head, smearing his pre-come over the flushed crown. “You won’t. You’ll take it. However I give it.”
A choked sound slips from his throat, and he slaps his palm over his own mouth, muffling into a low groan. His eyes squeeze shut, knuckles white where they grip his face.
The sight makes me clench around nothing. God, he’s beautiful like this.
“Such a good boy,” I murmur, reaching back into the sheets for the foil packet. I tear it open, and roll the condom onto him slowly, watching every muscle in his body tense like he’s bracing for impact.
I guide him to my entrance and sink down slowly. Inch by inch, he opens me, stretches me, and my breath fractures against his mouth. He fills me so completely I see white behind my eyes.
His hand tears away from his mouth from where it was stifling his moans, flying to me instead—clutching at my hips, my waist, sliding up my back. “Sable—fuck—oh my God?—”
My teeth sink into his shoulder, catching the moan that rips up through me as I take him all the way in, stretching me until my walls clench around him. He whimpers into my neck, cock twitching deep inside, and for a second we just cling, both of us trembling, breath breaking against skin.
Then I move. Slow at first, rolling my hips down over him, dragging the length of him through my pussy until sparks snap up my spine. He shudders, fingers digging into my waist.
“That’s it,” I murmur, lips brushing across his forehead as I ride him, steady and deliberate. “Good boy. Take it. Let me use you.”
He bows his head, mouth latching over my nipple, sucking hard enough to arch my back. “Please,” he gasps against my skin, voice wrecked. “Fuck—please, I’ll be so good. Use me. I’m yours to use.”
The words flood straight through me and I grind down harder, picking up pace. His hand slides down, fumbling between my thighs until his fingers find my clit, rubbing frantic, desperate circles that make my vision blur white.
I ride him harder, hips snapping down hard enough to rattle the bedframe, chasing the ache blooming hot in my stomach. His groans tear loose, muffled against my breast.
“No.” I fist his hair and yank, forcing his head up until our eyes lock. “Look at me. Don’t you dare hide from me.”
His teeth sink into his own lip, jaw trembling, eyes glassy and wide as I fuck down onto him harder, wetter, faster.
The quiet makes everything louder—the slick drag of my pussy on his cock, the slap of my thighs against his, the frantic stutter of his breathing. Every second of it dangerous, every sound too sharp, too obscene for walls this thin.
“Please—fuck, Sable, please,” he whimpers, his whole body shuddering under me. “I’m—I can’t—God, I can’t hold it?—”
“Yes, you can.” I grind down viciously, the nails from my free hand clawing down his chest. “You’ll hold it for me until I come. You’ll take every second I give you.”
His cock twitches deep inside me, hard and frantic, his thighs trembling like he’s barely holding himself together.
Each pulse drags me higher, pressure curling low in my belly, sharp and unbearable, fire racing up my spine.
I yank his mouth to mine before I break, swallowing the wrecked noises clawing up his throat.
My stifled moan tears out against his lips as I clamp down around him, pussy spasming, milking him hard.
He shudders, gasping into my mouth, cock pulsing as he spills hot inside the condom. I don’t let him breathe, don’t let him cry out—I take it all into me, grinding down through every twitch and throb, using him until he’s shaking, until his moans dissolve into my tongue.
His arms lock around me suddenly, hauling me down against his chest. I collapse into him freely, sweat cooling down my spine, sinking into pure, unadulterated bliss.