Page 25 of Numbers Boy (Working Boys #2)

All the while, Noah is peppering the back of my neck and shoulders with kisses.

He doesn’t stop his whispered words, soaking my skin with praises as the water soaks us both.

My orgasm builds slowly, not rushed or frantic, but steady and inevitable.

Then, Noah’s hand is pumping me in time with his hips, and I can’t hold back.

I cry out his name as wave after wave of pleasure rolls over me.

Noah strokes me through it, his own sounds getting louder before he stiffens against my back, and I can feel the warmth of his release coat my balls and drip slowly down my inner thighs.

The sensation sends another shock of pleasure through me, and my legs buckle slightly at the intensity of what just happened.

Fortunately, Noah’s arm is still wrapped firmly around my chest, and I know he won’t let me fall.

Noah turns me toward him with gentle hands and slowly lowers himself to his knees, apparently not giving a damn about the cold, hard tub beneath them or the water pounding down on his back.

His intoxicating, whiskey-colored eyes look up at me with adoration and smoldering heat as he wipes his cum from my thighs, making me feel both claimed and coveted.

My own knees feel like jelly, but whether it’s from the incredible orgasm or how Noah is treating me now, it’s hard to say.

I don’t know if I’ve ever had a man look at me the way he is.

Like he would do anything to make me happy, even without the promise of sex to motivate him.

Like my comfort, not his, is the top priority.

“You alright, Princess?” he asks, voice hushed like he doesn’t want to break the moment by speaking too loudly.

I nod and reach a hand out to card through the wet strands of his hair. My lips curl in a sated smile. “I’m great.”

“Good.” Noah gets back to his feet, hands never leaving my skin. They weave a hot trail up my thighs and torso before cupping my face, fingers resting on the sides of my neck and thumbs tracing my jawline. “Let’s cuddle.”

When he leans forward to brush a featherlight kiss over my lips, my eyelids flutter closed, so I miss how he does it, but suddenly, the water is off, and a fluffy towel is being wrapped around my shoulders.

Noah wraps another towel around his hips after drying off, and if I hadn’t just had the most satisfying orgasm of my life, I’d want him immediately.

As it is, my stomach clenches, and my eyes drink in the sight.

His solid, muscled chest leading down to trim hips, the V of his abs drawing my eye to the slightest hint of dark pubic hair peeking over the towel. It’s a fucking drool-fest.

And then there’s the tattoos. I’ve seen the ones on his arms, but there are more scattered along his skin like a sexy treasure map.

I want to explore it. After we pull on comfy clothes – my biggest sweats barely fit Noah’s larger frame, but he doesn’t seem to mind – we settle onto the couch, and that’s when I ask about them.

“Tell me about your tattoos?”

“Of course,” Noah says excitedly. He goes through the various designs and the meanings behind them. There’s everything from “Well, I like petting dogs, and it makes people smile” when he tells me about the back of his hands to “I liked how it looked” about a swirl along his bicep.

“And this one?” I prompt, tracing the ink on his chest near his collarbone. I can just barely see part of it peeking out along the edge of the muscle tank I found of Stu’s to lend to him.

Noah’s smile turns a little sad as he shifts the material over so I can see the rest of the triangular piece. “This one matches one that Blake has. We got it with another friend in college.”

“Yeah?” I don’t want to pry, but my curiosity is piqued. It’s a pretty big deal to get matching tattoos with someone. It doesn’t surprise me that he has one with Blake, but the fact that it was three of them getting a triangle makes me wonder what the significance is.

“Yeah.” Noah takes my hand and starts to play with my fingers as he goes on. “Blake and I had another best friend, Kyle. Ex-best friend, now.”

“I know I can’t really judge because my collective friend group reads like a who’s who of a frat roster, but his name was Kyle?”

“Yep.” Noah’s mouth twitches in a small smile, so I feel okay pressing for more information.

“What happened with this Kyle?”

“Well, Kyle’s straight.” Oof, not a good start, if he’s now an ex-best friend. “And that wasn’t a problem for a really long time. But then some things changed, and it led to him removing himself from our triangle.”

I narrow my gaze at Noah, who is doing his best to not make eye contact as he trails one finger along my arm, connecting the freckles there. “One of you fell in love with him, didn’t you.”

“That’s really not my story to tell.”

Ah, so it was Blake who got his heart squashed by the straight boy. “Got it.”

“Yeah,” Noah says on a slow exhale. “So that’s the story of that one. Not the best, but it’s part of me.”

“And it’s cool you and Blake have matching tattoos,” I point out, trying to keep things positive.

Noah turns and gives me a genuine smile. “Yeah, that is cool. Now, it’s your turn. Tell me about your drag performance this weekend.”

A wide grin takes over my face, and I sit up a little straighter.

“So that one is a routine as a backup dancer for another queen. But I have a bigger show coming up in a few weeks.” A thought occurs to me, and I decide to take this a step further.

“Do you want to see the dress I’m making for it?

It’s not done yet, but it’s getting there. ”

“Hell, yeah, Princess.”

My heart flutters at his easy acceptance, and I pull him up off the couch to drag him into the spare room.

After I show him the start of my dress, which he has plenty of compliments for, we spend the rest of the night sharing what we love about performing.

The whole time, all I can think is that this is what I want.

Someone who gets me and supports me. And I’m starting to think I’ve found it for real this time.