My eyes widen in horror, glaring at him for daring to do something outrageous like denying me my climax. “What are you doing?” I grind between my teeth, fingers digging into him.
And if I thought he’d be apologetic, I was sorely mistaken, because he gives me a smug and dark smile, and dear Lord if that doesn’t just make me wetter.
“Punishing you.”
Twenty Eight
Andie
“Punishing you.”
Noah’s words play over and over again in my head as if that’ll make me less turned on than I already am. His words should make me hate him, make me wary of the power imbalance.
They should resurrect the feminist part of me that’s buried somewhere I’ve forgotten, and fight for control. But all they do is make me want to submit to him like a good girl.
I can’t stray my eyes from his lips as he utters those words. I’m so lost in the fullness of them,in the musings of how they would taste on my tongue, that I don’t hear him call out my name.
Noah pulls me back from the trenches of my mind with a slap to my wet core. It has me jolting in surprise, my lips parting on something between a gasp and a moan.
When my eyes connect to his, they’re hungry, desperate, and naked, baring every ounce of lust he’s feeling.
“You’re drooling, baby,” he smirks, proud of himself for catching me off-guard, satisfied with being able to cause such a reaction from me. “Might wanna close it before I decide to stuff it full of my cock right here.” The wicked glint in his eyes is a promise to back his words, as his calloused thumb swipes against my lower lip, smearing my juices there.
My tongue instinctively darts out to lick it, loving my taste on his rough skin. His eyes flare wide, his length twitching against my stomach as his breath hitches.
He stares at my mouth sucking his thumb in like a once-in-a-lifetime view, and I relish every second of it.
Noah’s teeth bite into his lower lip as he holds back a groan that vibrates in his throat. For thefirst time, I envy his teeth, wishing mine were the ones sinking into his lips instead. I’m dying to know what they taste like, feel like.
Even when every sane thought in me warns me, I still give in to the urge bubbling inside of me. “Kiss me,” I breathe the words in the air between us.
My heart thunders in my chest, the anticipation of his reaction nearly killing me as his searing gaze burns through me at my words, his body frozen as he looms over me.
The warm weight of his thumb on my lower lip feels heavier as seconds tick by, excruciatingly without any response from him.
I’m about to repeat myself, thinking that maybe he didn’t hear me over our rapid breathing when he says, “I’m not kissing you.”
His denial, his blatant rejection, feels like being drowned in water. My heart plummets to the ground, twisting uncomfortably in my chest. In an attempt to hide the hurt of his words and gather whatever dignity I have left, I drop my gaze to his chest.
It takes all of me not to sob in front of him, as I feel all the tension fizzle down along with my hope. “Of course, why would you?” I scoff on achoppy breath, the sting of rejection evident in my tone.
Why would a man like him want to kiss me? He’s one of the best goalies in the National Hockey League; he can literally have anyone. He may have slept with me, but I might not be his type.
After all, a woman with considerable curves is hardly anyone’s type, or so I’ve been told.
“Look at me,” Noah’s raspy voice directs. When I don’t—can’t—he hooks his finger under my chin. “Look at me, Rainbow,” he encourages, his tone this time is soft and pleading.
My eyes flutter to him, tears lining them. His gaze softens at the sight of them as he caresses his thumb under my eyes.
“I’m not kissing you behind a fucking club where your brother can walk in on us, baby,” he whispers. “The first time my lips touch yours,” his thumb goes back and smears the remnants of my lipstick, making a shiver rack down my spine. “I know deep in my bones that I’m not stopping until either you pass out or my heart does. So, no, I’m not kissing you here. But Iwill, and that’s a fuckingpromise.”
The gravity and meaning of his words have myheart tripping in my chest, my eyes wide as they peer into his. His eyes, lined with conviction, assure me of his promise.
“Oh.” That is all the response I’m capable of giving to him. No coherent thought enters my brain when it’s filled with his words, dissecting them, hanging on to them as they envelop my heart like a warm blanket on a Christmas morning.
Amusement dances on his features at my dumbstruck expression, a smile forming on his face, making him look almost boyish. The darkness in his gaze not as prominent.
His words play on a loop in my mind, reminding me that I’m not alone in the depths of this madness. That I’m not the only one flailing on the surface of desire.