Chapter 0268
Gently, he moved his thumb to the center of my swollen clitoris and began a slow, tantalizing circle. My already soaked pussy lips throbbed at his touch; all I could do was resist squirming, aching, begging him to give me what I craved.
But he lingered, his thumb circling slowly, slowly, until I thought I might burst. I remained silent, waiting, patient.
Then, he murmured, “Say the name of the man you think about.” His green eyes, dark and intense, bored into me as he casually spat into his palm and stroked his shaft. I felt the tip press against me and bit my lip so hard I tasted blood.
“The… the name?” I whispered. The head of his cock pressed harder, and a low growl rumbled in his throat. He leaned down, his hot breath spraying across my throat, his hand still gripping the headboard—muscles taut, gleaming in the moonlight. “I hear you at night,” he whispered, flicking his tongue across my earlobe. “Whimpering in your bed. Touching yourself. I know you say a name, and it’s not Drake. I know you were lying before.”
I swallowed hard, resisting the urge to cry out as his cock pushed into me. “The name…” I murmured, knowing exactly what he meant. My face flushed red—whether from embarrassment or ecstasy as he filled me, I couldn’t be sure.
“Say it,” he growled, thrusting fully into me. I arched my back, feeling positively stuffed, and whimpered as he began to move—slow, controlled, in and out, his hips moving expertly.
“Noah,” I finally whispered, my voice strained and throaty. “It’s Noah.”
Leaning back, his chest glistening in the light, he flashed his white teeth. “That’s what I thought.”
Neither of us spoke afterward; words were useless. All that mattered was the sound of our shared groans and grunts, my whimpers, and his low growls in my ear.
For the first time in a long time, I gave myself to him completely. My legs fell open on the bed, and I clutched the sheets. My eyes roamed his sinewy body as he moved over me; my hand occasionally stroked his waist and chest. Occasionally, he, too, moved his fingers along my bare breasts or pushed my nightgown aside to grab my hips, tugging me closer—an aching attempt to get deeper, closer. Every so often, he cursed or muttered my name, the sound almost violent. Once, I took his hand and wrapped his fingers around my throat, reveling in the light pressure and the way it made me tighten around his cock. But we never said more than that.
Just as we were about to reach our climax, I pushed myself up onto my elbows, my neck exposed as I threw my head back.
“Fuck, Hannah,” he grunted at the sight, hunching down over me. I could only manage a pathetic moan in response; the swell of his cock before he burst was almost too much to bear.
He bent his head, and I swore I felt his fangs graze my throat, but I didn’t pull away. At that moment, as he finished inside me, I didn’t care if he ripped my throat out with his teeth. Nothing mattered—not the ecstasy, not the pain, not the consequences.
When we finally collapsed into a wordless, sweaty, panting heap, I shuddered to my feet and stumbled to the bathroom. The aftereffects of our romp trailed down my leg, and I grinned as I staggered past the full-length mirror, catching a glimpse of my disheveled state. I would regret this in the morning, I was certain. Consequences. I could face those tomorrow. But for now…
As I stumbled back to the bedroom, Noah was already half asleep. I curled up under the blankets beside him, turned away, my face to the moon—who had watched our entire tryst from her place in the sky. We fell asleep on opposite sides of the bed, but I thought I felt his…