by Lucy Score
“I want to come, Noah.” She shouted the request.
He shoved her shoulders down so only her ass was in the air and then slid his hands down to tug at her nipples.
“Touch yourself, Cat. Come on me. Make me feel it.”
His fingers pulled on nipples in a concerted rhythm like twin mouths. Cat slid her hand between her legs where their bodies joined.
Nothing mattered. Not time, not call sheets, not even Christmas. Just this.
Cat was an expert on her body. She knew just what pressure was needed. She used her fingers to rub and stroke her way to the top.
“Noah,” she gasped.
“I feel you, baby. Let it go. Need to feel you—”
The first delicious squeeze of her orgasm cut him off. Noah gritted out a sound of pleasure as Cat closed around him.
“Fuck, baby. Yes.”
His fingers never stopped their pulls at her nipples, and Cat felt her body slide into heaven between the strokes of his cock inside her and the tugs at her breasts. She closed over him again and again, riding out a blissful, soul-shattering release that left her weak-kneed and shaking.
She heard him, the guttural grunt of the build to his own climax.
“Come on me,” she heard herself say.
She didn’t need to say it twice. Noah was pulling out of her and dragging off the condom. Cat reached between her legs to cup his balls and peered over her shoulder. She didn’t want to miss a second of this fantasy she’d had for a straight month.
He fisted his cock, primed it once, and growled.
“Come for me, Noah,” Cat instructed.
He stared into her eyes, a madman out of control, as he dragged his hand down the length of his shaft.
“Faster,” Cat whispered, enthralled.
Noah obeyed, never breaking eye contact. The grip on his cock looked almost painful. Cat forgot for a moment that she had the soft cushion of his balls in her palm. Remembering, she tugged them down, palming them.
Noah’s nostrils flared, his green eyes hooded. Cat suddenly felt the sensation that she was his prey, not his tormentor.
“Harder, Noah.” She squeezed his balls, hard, saw the wince, but his hand sped up jacking his erection harder, faster, until his jaw locked tight and his breath stopped. Then suddenly his free hand was between her legs, fingers pressing on her clit, dancing over its slick surface.
Cat cried out as the sneaky bastard shoved her into another orgasm. She felt the first hot rope of his release land on her back, dripping down the curve of her ass. Cat forced her eyes open to watch as they came together. She felt imprinted, branded, engraved, as Noah grunted softly at each pump of his fist. Cat sobbed her way through the orgasm that wrung her out, destroying her ability to think.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Noah practically floated from his desk to the ancient coffeemaker in his office. He actually had to look down to make sure his feet were touching the ground… and not tripping over rain-catching Christmas tins. There they were, rooted to the creaky hardwood floor in his sensible brown loafers. His entire body felt lighter as if, through some sort of new-agey orgasm therapy, Cat had somehow burned off the mists dragging at him for the past several decades.
Last night had been… magical. And then this morning was dark magic. He sat back down, forgetting to pour himself a cup of coffee. He’d never in his life felt this kind of satisfaction after sex. Sure. He’d enjoyed his short list of partners, and he was fairly certain they’d enjoyed themselves. But last night? Nothing held a candle to Cat underneath him screaming his name, her teeth biting into his palm.
“Whoa. Down boy,” he cautioned himself as he felt his cock stirring. That particular body part should be comatose right now. Yet just a second of reminiscing brought it stirring back to life. Such was the spell Catalina King had cast on him.
He glanced down at his empty mug and stood back up, returning to the coffeemaker. He felt like he owed Cat a gift of gratitude. Not anything that would make her feel like a prostitute taking payment for sexual favors. But something sincere, thoughtful.
He poured and sat, frowning at his email inbox that was filled to the brim.
Flowers seemed too… predictable. Too presumptuous. They hadn’t discussed whether this would happen again. Whether they were seeing each other. Noah frowned fiercely at his coffee. They also hadn’t discussed whether this was monogamous or not. As much fun as he was having letting her shove him outside his comfort zone, he wasn’t about to share her. And if that’s what she wanted, well, it was a deal-breaker.
Noah mentally kicked himself. One night—and early morning—of sex, and he was fantasizing about a relationship. He needed to calm the hell down. They had time to figure out if there was groundwork for a future.
He sipped his coffee and smiled at absolutely nothing. His jaw was starting to hurt from beaming. Carolanne had stared at him suspiciously until he sent her out to the post office just so he could bask alone.
Drumming his fingers on the desk, Noah decided he’d text Henry. Who better to know the way to Cat’s heart than her assistant?
Noah: Got any ideas for gifts for your boss?
The response came swiftly as Noah knew it would. Henry’s phone was never out of his hand.
Henry: What kind of gift? Sorry for revoking your building permits gift? Thanks for rebuilding my town gift?
Noah: Something more… personal.
He could practically hear Henry’s gleeful laughter.
Henry: I wondered why she was smiling so much today. Starting to freak me out.
Crap. He may have just opened a can of gossip worms on set.
Noah: I’m not confirming or denying anything that she wouldn’t want anyone else to know.
Henry: I’m a vault, my friend. Let’s meet for lunch and we’ll chat.
With a hopeful heart, Noah turned his attention to his inbox and began working his way cheerfully through his never-ending to do list.
--------
Noah felt like he was back at the scene of the crime when Henry let him into Cat’s trailer.
“Like I said, man, Cat’s a practical woman,” Henry explained. “She’s not really the wine and roses type. If you can find a way to be useful to her? That’s the best way to get to her.”
Noah looked around the living space. It was still crowded with papers and electronic devices that she’d been in the middle of before he’d interrupted her with his libido the night before. The sad Christmas tree in the corner blinked on and off.
“She a fan of Christmas?” Noah asked, jutting his chin toward the tree.
“Oh, yeah. Huge fan. That’s why she was so keen on Merry in the first place.”
Noah nodded and filed the information away.
“Whoa. What happened here?” Henry asked, eyeing the broken leg of the dining table.
Noah turned his back on Henry so he wouldn’t see the guilt on his face.
He opened the refrigerator and found it bare except for the wilted lettuce he’d noticed last night. “Not very well-stocked.”
“She tries to eat well on the road, so it’s usually to-go salads or craft service stuff,” Henry explained.
They wandered down the skinny hallway to the bedroom. Noah hadn’t noticed the dirty clothes in piles around the bed last night or this morning. He’d been too busy being balls deep in heaven.
Henry wrinkled his nose and picked up a tank top that was draped over a cabinet door and tossed it into a pile of like clothes.
Cat must have left in a hurry this morning, Noah noted. The bed looked as if a sex tornado had whirled through. And there were two distinct head dents in the pillow.
Henry cleared his throat. “Looks like someone had some fun last night.”
“Yeah, uh, thanks for giving me some ideas,” Noah announced, suddenly in a hurry to get away from the all-knowing Henry. He wasn’t by any means ready to have a conversation about what had happened last nig
ht. At least not without talking to Cat about how seriously he was taking it.
He’d trusted her enough with his story, one that was widely known around town, but never discussed. Sara had no idea who her grandfather was or what kind of childhood Noah had. She’d listened and been angry for him. And it felt like there was something more there than just sexual attraction. Whatever it was, he wanted more.
She dazzled him. She made him feel. Made him want to walk away from steady, from secure, and play on the wild side.
This was his shot at some temporary but memorable-for-the-rest-of-his-life fun. He was throwing his hat into the ring to claim the rest of her time here in Merry. He just hoped Cat wouldn’t kick his ass for it.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Cat’s attention was wrestled back to present by Paige’s whistle. “Welcome back,” Paige said. “Where’d you go?”
“Huh?” Cat mumbled, searching the recesses of her mind for a plausible lie. It was the third time in this shoot that she’d spaced out.
“You okay?” Drake asked. He’d been feeding her the same line for ten minutes now inside Reggie’s nearly completed diner, and Cat just couldn’t get the response right. It was like their roles were reversed.
Cat rolled her shoulders and dragged her mind out of her bed where Noah had ranged over her and driven her to madness. She slapped a smile on her face. “Just didn’t get enough coffee this morning.” Lies. She’d had three cups so far. Nothing was dragging her mind away from last night… and this morning.
She felt like she was reliving some life-altering experience, and that terrified her down to her pretty pink toenails. Fun. It was supposed to be fun.
“Can someone get Cat a coffee so we can wrap this before midnight?” Paige called into her headset.
An espresso magically appeared in front of her moments later, and Cat took a swig.
“Sorry, guys. I’m good. I swear. Where were we?”
“Drake is explaining to you why he chose stainless steel for the diner counter and the backsplash,” Paige reminded her, settling back in her chair behind the camera.
“Right, right. Okay. I’m good.”
“Rolling.”
They started over from the mark, and this time Cat nailed the required interest in Drake’s explanation. It was a bit of TV magic. Drake hadn’t picked the counters. Cat had. But it would be more entertaining for the viewers if they split up the projects and ribbed each other along the way. Drake was used to having a team of high-end designers on hand to help shape projects on his show. Cat, on the other hand, was a veritable control freak. Her vision was law. It required an exhausting amount of prep and research before shooting started, but until someone else proved they could do it better, Cat was happy to hang on to the responsibility.
Reggie’s diner was coming together in a wild melding of traditional diner architecture and Jamaican flavor. She’d kept things simple and modern with the stainless counter and open kitchen. Part of the charm of Reggie’s was listening to the reggae that blared from his radio by the grill. And hearing the waitresses shout at the cooks. The booths and stools were new and boasted turquoise cushions. She’d squeezed in one extra table and two stools at the counter. Room for more paying customers.
The second register and sales system were cordoned off in the old storage corner. The metal exterior had held up well to the mud and water, but the innards had been a disaster. New black and white checkered flooring had gone down two days ago, and the tile workers were finishing the wall the booths butted against.
They’d brought in a Jamaican-born mural artist to paint the far wall. A Caribbean beach scene with palm trees and hammocks. Cat could almost hear the steel drum band. Back in the kitchen, she’d reorganized the storage and given Reggie all new appliances. The reveal was being shot this afternoon, and tomorrow they’d shoot the reopening. Post-production would have one hell of a time cobbling together an entire episode in such a short time, but the story editor had been dictator-ish about sequences. So, it was still do-able.
Next on deck was Mrs. Pringle’s house and the Hais’. Cat had a few furniture pieces and knickknacks she needed for both projects. She’d need to carve out some time to shop. Maybe she could take a crew with her and head to one of Merry’s antique shops?
Maybe Noah would like to go with her. They could grab dinner—
“Fuck,” Cat muttered.
Paige pulled off her headset. “Cut.”
“Shit. Sorry, Paige,” Cat said, scrubbing a hand over her face and immediately smudging her makeup. “Dang it!”
“Makeup,” Paige yelled. She levered herself out of her chair and latched on to Cat’s arm. “How about we have a little chat for a minute. Take five!”
In all their years of working together, Paige had rarely had to remind Cat to keep it together on camera. Only during her post-birthday hangovers was that order necessary because otherwise Cat was a consummate professional. Or she had been until she’d consummated the hell out of Noah.
“What is going on in that brain?” Paige demanded when they stepped out the front door.
Cat looked at the anxious crowd who were hoping for a glimpse inside and dragged Paige down the block. “I did something stupid last night.”
“Did you kill someone? Oh, God! It’s not Noah, is it? I’d feel bad about helping you hide his body. I thought you two were getting along after the whole Thanksgiving thing.”
“Where do you get these ideas?” Cat grumbled.
“Is Noah alive or dead?” Paige pressed.
“Alive. At least he was when I kicked him out of my bed this morning.”
“What was he doing in your—oh. Oh!”
Paige gaped at her like a betta fish in a new bowl, unsure of her new environment.
“Yeah. Oh.” Cat shoved her hands into the pockets of her cargo pants. She’d left her coat inside and hunched her shoulders against the winter wind.
She glanced around. Christmas was slowly maneuvering its way down Main Street. With the Rudolph lights mounted on the streetlamps, businesses had begun decking their own halls with festive window displays, Christmas lights, and greenery.
It was taking shape, at least on the outside. The snow certainly helped the holiday look. They’d shoot the window painting contest this weekend and would host a ceremony mainly for the cameras, but with a little luck, they could pull in some vendors and sponsors and turn it into a shoppers’ night and pre-festival celebration.
“Done processing?” Cat asked, kicking at a seam in the sidewalk.
“Almost,” Paige nodded. “Almost. Okay. I’m there. You slept with Noah. Okay. So, what does that mean?”
Cat gave a surly shrug. “Why does it have to mean anything? I mean, we had sex. It was great. End of story.”
“Is it?” Paige asked pointedly.
“Well, I mean, I wouldn’t be opposed to getting naked with him again,” Cat said, still not willing to make eye contact. Paige would take one look at her and know. This didn’t feel like just a quick, fun fling like she’d enjoyed before. No, this felt more important. Scarier.
“So, the sex was adequate?” Paige prodded.
“Adequate times a million.” Okay, maybe Cat could brag just a little without letting Paige know how terrified she’d been of losing her soul to Noah Yates as he whispered dirty little secrets into her ear while he moved in her.
“So, good then?”
Cat dragged her hands through her hair, instantly ruining the “effortless” tail the stylist had spent thirty minutes on that morning. “Like so much better than good I can’t even find the words.”
“Oooooh.” Paige dragged out the syllable in understanding.
“Yeah. That’s why my head is…” she gestured into the distance. “I’m orgasm drunk.”
Paige nodded approvingly. “Nice job, Noah.”
“Oh my God. You have no idea.”
“I probably do, but since my husband is your brothe
r, you don’t want the details. By the way, Gannon is insanely insatiable in bed.”
“Gross. So, what do I do now? How do I go back to being normal?” Cat asked. She needed sister-in-lawly wisdom and needed it STAT.
“Are you going to get orgasm drunk with him again?” Paige asked.
Cat brought her shoulders to her ears. “I don’t know! I mean. We’re in town, and there’s not much else to do at night… but is he really the fling kind of guy? I mean, he’s got a daughter, and what if it gets out around town that we’re… uh… banging? Like is Sara going to be embarrassed and grossed out? Are people going to think he’s an idiot for rolling around naked with me since we all know it can’t last?”
She saw the thought flash through Paige’s blue eyes and held up a hand. “Uh-uh. It can’t work,” Cat said firmly. “I’m not getting in a long-distance relationship at this point in my life. Noah’s entire life is here, and asking him and Sara and, hell, Mellody and her future husband because they’re a co-parenting unit to give all that up and move to New York or better yet follow me around the country? Stupid and not happening.”
“And staying here isn’t an option?”
“I have a school to build, a show to host, a life too big for Merry. Besides, aren’t I supposed to be fake dating Drake for ratings?”
“Oh please. Don’t pull that crap with me,” Paige gave her the stop-throwing-your-peas-on-the-floor look that Cat had seen her give Gabby only yesterday. “You really think that I would force you to fake a relationship? Have you completely forgotten the disaster on Kings when they started mic-ing me and making Gannon and I look all hot and heavy for each other?”
“You were hot and heavy for each other,” Cat pointed out.
“You know I would never ask you to fake a relationship. If you choose to, that’s fine, but don’t use that as an excuse to hide from your feelings for Noah.”