Since the screaming match is done—hopefully—I lead him inside to the salon and sit us down on the wide couch that looks toward the stern of the yacht.
“I just—” He starts and stops quickly before pulling in another deep breath, then he finally looks me in the eyes again. “I don’t want you to regret the investment. I don’t want to disappoint you and be like, an embarrassment to your portfolio or whatever.” He speaks quickly, half mumbling the last part.
“Noah, I knew what I was getting into by investing in a literary agency. In the projections I had made before we finalized the investment, I figured you’d maybe get to six clients in the first year... but you’ve more than doubled your numbers in a single month, and gotten one of them an amazing deal with a major publishing house. You’ve already exceeded my expectations, darling.”
I pause to let him process that and press a kiss to his temple before continuing.
“Your version of success does not have to be like mine, for many reasons, but most of all because we’re not starting from the same spot. First of all, I started Knight-In with the money from my trust fund, but I had a lot of help too. Not only growing up and with my education, but my name alone got me into rooms that aren’t available to the wider public. I’ve gotten chances that many others at my age wouldn’t have simply because of my family’s reputation.
“You are a self-made man in a way I never could be, and you’re going to have to fight battles that I never had to. I’m glad being associated with me will help with a lot of those, but the fact is you don’t have to be as successful as me. You’re going to be as successful as youwantto be. But I think you have to be realistic, sweetheart.”
I can think of no other words to say, so I just stop, and breathe out in relief when Noah doesn’t look angry but pensive. After a few seconds he finally nods slowly.
“Do you really believe all that?”
“I do,” I say without hesitation. “You’re already doing amazing work, and if you can do so much in one month of almost killing yourself, then imagine what you can do in a year if you have a well-rested and fully functioning brain every workday?”
He snorts, and no other sound has ever been as amazing.
I can’t hold back anymore, I have to taste that simple, easy amusement on his lips.
He sighs into the kiss, melting into me until we’re sprawled on the couch, making out like careless teenagers.
It’s perfect.
Absolute paradise already, but then he goes ahead and makes it better.
“So, is there a bed somewhere on this huge yacht?"
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Noah
Chase takeshold of my hand and leads me down some steps into the body of the boat. We barely get through the door to a massive cabin before his lips are on mine again. He slides his tongue against mine and I groan. He grips my hips and I grind against him. His hands travel over my arse and he squeezes hard while I try to find some friction. He must feel how hard I am as he lets out a little growl.
I give a little yelp as he picks me up. I’m not small but Chase is strong, and I cling onto him as he walks me the few steps to an enormous bed. He unceremoniously drops me onto it, looks at me like he’s won the prize of the century, and then he’s on me, covering my body with his, and we’re making out again. I wrap my legs around him, pushing my groin against his as we kiss frantically. It’s needy and desperate.
“I’m gonna come in my pants like a teenager,” he utters as he takes a breath, and I tighten my grip on him and grind harder, seeing how far I can push him. He huffs a laugh and disengages himself.
He starts stripping his clothes off and I get lost watching him, seeing him uncover parts of himself with each layer. He stops while he still has his boxer briefs on and looks at me. He raises an eyebrow like I’ve been slacking somehow.
“You too, sweetheart,” he says, and I scramble to obey him and quickly undress. I take off my glasses and lie back on the bed. He crawls up the bed and hovers over me, then dips slightly to kiss me, and as he lifts back up I shuffle down the mattress until I’m lying directly under his cock. I lift my head and lap at the precum beading at the tip. He moans which is all the cue I need to go further, and I suck the end into my mouth. I take my time with him, alternating between using my tongue round the head and then taking him as deep as I can go, allowing him to thrust and then pulling back to lick him and tease him. A sweet song of softly spoken expletives accompanies me as I slurp and lick and suck at him. His thighs start to shake and I double my efforts. He thrusts hard, once, twice, and then he pulls back off me completely and sits on his heels.
“Nope, I wanna come inside you.” His voice is unsteady, and I feel some pride at least that he nearly lost it and gave in, even while I pout at him. I watch as he rises on unsteady legs to find some lube.
“Now it’s my turn.” He smiles, and I scoot back up the bed to give him room as he kneels between my legs. I’ve never met anyone who enjoys prepping me the way he does, seemingly almost as much as he enjoys fucking me. Previous partners either expected me to do it myself, which of course I can, or were perfunctory about it. But Chase makes it an artform. He lies down to settle himself and then starts to kiss along my thighs. He takes each one in turn, and when he reaches the top of my leg he pushes, so I bend my knees to give him access. He hums as he gazes at my pucker. It used to make mefeel uncomfortable and exposed, but that soon disappeared with the care he takes and the enjoyment he has. I feel so at ease now that I tip my pelvis slightly and give a wiggle.
“Good,” he says in a voice so deep and dripping with authority that it travels up my spine and short circuits in my head. I can be good for him. I flash him again and he growls, grabbing my hips and pulling me onto his tongue. I wriggle with delight, as he knows all the ways to make me moan. Then I hear the lube cap snap before a cold finger against my rim makes me gasp. It’s not cold for long as he expertly pushes it in, taking his time. He twists and thrusts before adding a second, and finally a third, while I writhe and almost buck off the bed every time he grazes across my bundle of nerves.
“You’re doing good, sweetheart.” There’s the praise again, and I give a little whine and nod at him.
“You look so beautiful fucking yourself on my fingers,” he croons, and I moan.
“Want your dick,” I pant out. “Want you to fill me.”
If he doesn’t soon, then it’ll be too late.
“Pleeease.” I’m not above begging at this point.