by Hannah Ford
After a moment, I moved toward it, intending to start cleaning it up.
“Don’t,” Noah growled.
I froze. He was removing his suit coat, draping it over the chair on the breakfast bar. He unbuttoned his sleeves and began rolling them up. A delicious shiver of fear and excitement skittered up my spine.
“It displeases me when I feel like you don’t trust me, Charlotte,” Noah said. “It displeases me even more when I feel like you’re not on my side.” He finally looked at me, his eyes boring into mine. “Do you understand?”
I nodded. I understood exactly what I meant. He meant that I’d chosen Josh over him, that I’d protected Josh back at the park. But it wasn’t like that. I didn’t give a shit about Josh. What I cared about was keeping my job with Professor Worthington, and making sure Noah wasn’t doing anything to fuck up his case. It was my job as part of his legal team. And beyond that, I cared about Noah.
“What do you understand?” Noah prompted.
“That you didn’t like it when you thought I was sticking up for Josh.” I took a step toward him. “But Noah, I wasn’t --”
“Stop.” He held his hand out, and I stopped moving. “You don’t understand at all.”
“I don’t?”
He shook his head, his blue eyes blazing. “When you upset me, Charlotte, when you defy me, there are consequences.”
And then I got it. There were consequences. Sexual ones. I bit my lip and looked down at the floor. “Oh.”
“Look at me when you’re talking.”
I looked up at him, and he began removing his tie. “Bend over the counter, Charlotte,” he said.
I swallowed. “Um, I don’t – ”
“Bend over the counter.”
I walked over to the counter and bent over, sticking my ass up in the air. He made me wait there for what seemed like an agonizingly long time, but was really probably only a few moments. And then his body was on top of mine, his chest pushing into my back. He pushed my hair back from my face and wrapped it around his hand, tugging on it gently. Heat pulsed through my body and I bit back the moan that was already threatening to escape from my lips.
Then Noah stood up, moving his weight off of me, and lifted up my skirt. “You know, Charlotte,” he said. “We’re going to have to do something about you wearing these sexy little outfits out of the house.” The cool air hit my ass, and that, coupled with the brush of his fingertips against the back of my thighs made my pussy start to get wet.
“This isn’t sexy,” I said. “It’s just –”
His hand slapped my ass, sending a stinging pain through my backside. “Don’t talk back to me, Charlotte,” he said.
“Yes, sir,” I said.
“Good girl.” His hand reached out and rubbed my ass, his thumbs hooking the sides of my thong and pulling it down, stopping when it was right under my cheeks. “Turn around,” he commanded.
I did as I was told.
I stood there with my skirt pushed up around my hips, the back of my panties pulled down, exposing my ass and pussy to him. “Hold your skirt up for me, Charlotte,” Noah said. “Show me that hot body.”
I held my skirt up and he circled around me in the middle of the kitchen. He unbuttoned his shirt as he walked, one button, two, three, revealing his gorgeous body to me as I stood there on display for him. He threw his shirt onto the floor, standing there in just his pants, looking strong, in control, his eyes burning with betrayal and disappointment.
Then he moved toward me, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me toward him, his mouth crushing against mine, his kiss taking me, consuming me as his tongue moved past my lips. He tasted like mint and whiskey and danger, and it was a heady combination that made me moan.
He pulled back, looking at me, running his finger down over my lips. “You are so beautiful,” he rasped. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life. Which is why it makes me so disappointed when I think you don’t trust me. Do you understand?”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.
He pulled his body back away from me, and I almost cried out, that’s how awful it felt to be away from him.
“Take your shirt off, Charlotte,” he said.
I reached down and grabbed my sweater, pulling it off and throwing it onto the floor.
“Pull your bra down so I can see your tits.”
His eyes never left mine as I pulled the straps down and then grasped the cups, pulling them down until my nipples were sticking straight out, hard and exposed.
He reached out and grabbed a nipple in each hand, stroking them gently, applying more and more pressure until finally he squeezed. I cried out.
“Look at me,” he demanded.
It was hard to keep my eyes on his. The intensity of the electricity that sparked between us was almost too much to bear. I’d never felt anything like it before, had never even thought I could experience something so overwhelming. I ached for him to be near me, for me to be able to get close to him on every level – emotionally, physically, spiritually. And when I looked into his eyes, it was like a shock wave, taking me to a place where I feel that need so viscerally I almost couldn’t take it.
Noah kissed my neck, moving down over my cleavage, taking a nipple into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the peak and making me dizzy. He slid down lower, his mouth moving over my stomach.
A flush of embarrassment pinked my cheeks – I was self-conscious about my stomach, had always felt like it should be tighter, flatter, smoother. Noah’s body was perfect, cut out of stone, every muscle defined and chiseled. That someone so beautiful was going to see all my flaws made me feel vulnerable.
I tried to push him away, but he held me close, kneeling down and kissing my stomach, his tongue sliding down until he reached the top of my skirt. “You are beautiful,” he said. “I love everything about your body.”
He unhooked my skirt, pulled it over my legs and down to my feet until I stepped out of it.
Then his mouth was on my thighs, pushing the folds of my pussy open, licking my slit until he reached my clit, his tongue swirling around it. The whole time, our eyes were locked on each other.
Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore.
I closed my eyes and threw my head back, waiting for the sweet release of my orgasm. But Noah wasn’t going to let me off that easy.
Instead, he stood up, leaving me standing there with my breasts out and my panties pulled down just over my pussy.
He stepped back and looked at me, the sides of his mouth twitching up into a wicked little grin. It was the grin of a man who knew he was in control and was enjoying every single second of it.
“Turn around, Charlotte,” he commanded. I turned around, and he pushed me down onto the counter again, my cheek hitting the cool marble. His hand slid down my back, slowly and deliberately. My whole body broke out into goose bumps.
When he got to my ass, he slapped it.
“Do you trust me, Charlotte?” he asked.
I thought about it a beat too long, causing him to spank me again.
“Obviously you don’t,” he said, his palm smacking my backside. “I thought we went over this at the club. I thought you understood that your trust is required if you and I are going to be in a relationship.”
I wasn’t sure what kind of relationship he was talking about, but I loved that he was talking about us as if we were a couple, a package, two people who wanted to be together.
He hit me again. This slap was harder, his intent clear --- I needed to submit to him, and in order to do that completely, I had to trust him. Anything less was unacceptable.
He spanked me again, harder still, and I cried out. The pain was sharp, but it was only serving to make me more turned on. It was like the pain was playing off my sexual pleasure, each one intensifying the other, swirling together to create a scorching heat that pulsed through my body.
He spanked me harder, moving from one cheek to the other, his palm smacking me
so hard I was sure he was going to leave marks. The thought of him branding me only served to make me wetter.
“Please,” I said. “I’m sorry. I want to submit to you, I want to trust you.”
He stopped the assault on my ass, and I heard the sound of his buckle being undone, the whoosh as he pulled his belt off. My breath caught in my throat as he slid the leather strap over the back of my thighs. I was afraid he was going to whip me with it, but he dropped it onto the ground, and a second later I felt his cock against my ass.
“Open your legs, Charlotte,” he said. I did. “Good girl. Now stick your ass in the air.”
I arched my back and stood up on my high heels, spreading my legs more so he could have full access to my pussy.
His cock slid against my slit, and I moaned.
“No,” he said, slapping my ass again.
I quieted.
He stayed there for a long moment, his dick against me, teasing me.
“Do you trust me, Charlotte?” he asked again.
“Yes,” I said.
Smack.
“Tell me.”
“I trust you.”
He slid inside of me, slow and deep, filling me in the most exquisite way. He began moving inside of me, fucking me, faster and harder until he was pounding away at me. I hung onto the side of the breakfast bar as he fucked me, my nipples brushing against the hard marble.
His dick was rock hard, stretching me out as he pumped in and out.
He went faster until I was about to come, and then slowed down, pulling me up toward him until I was standing, our bodies pressed together. “Charlotte,” he breathed. “Look at me.”
I opened my eyes and said the words I knew he wanted to hear. “I trust you, Noah,” I said.
“Again.”
“I trust you.”
The words seemed to excite him, but not in a frantic way. Now the way he was moving inside of me was more sensual, more controlled.
“I trust you,” I said again, and his mouth was against mine as he hands grabbed at my hair, holding me tight as our tongues danced against each other. We kissed as he continued fucking me, moving so slowly inside of me that at times he was barely moving.
Every time his cock slid in and out, I could feel it against my clit, and it sent waves of intense pleasure pulsating through my body.
Finally, he broke away from the kiss.
“Come on me,” he whispered, and the sound of his voice, the want, the need that was there was enough to push me over the edge. I came on him, and a second later, I felt him shoot inside of me, filling me up while I orgasmed.
I collapsed onto the counter, spent, and he laid his body on top of me, strong and warm and safe. After a moment, he picked me up in his arms and began carrying me into the bedroom.
“Noah!” I protested, burying my face in his neck. “We can’t go back to bed.”
“Why not?”
“It’s the middle of the day.”
He set me down carefully on the bed, brushed my hair away from my face and kissed my lips. “I don’t care.”
We climbed under the covers and he wrapped his arms around me, making me feel safe and protected. I couldn’t understand how anyone could think this man was capable of murder. When I was with him, I felt like nothing could hurt me – that not only would he never harm me, but he would protect me from anything that might cause me pain.
We lay there for a moment, him holding me, his hands tracing a line from my shoulder down my arm, and back up, over and over again until I started to feel drowsy. I closed my eyes and after a while felt sleep starting to pull me under.
“I’m sorry,” Noah said, his voice pulling me back awake.
“What?”
“I’m sorry.” He reached out and took my hand in his, intertwining our fingers.
“For what?” I asked.
“For not listening to you.”
“Not listening to me about what?”
There was a rustling of sheets, and Noah propped himself up on his arm, looking down at me. “Look at me,” he said.
I turned so I was lying on my side and gazed up at him.
He looked down at me, slid his other hand under the sheets and across my stomach, wrapped it around my waist and stroked my hip. Just his touch was enough to get me hot again, and I took a deep breath and tried to slow my heart rate. We were about to have what sounded like a real conversation, and I wasn’t going to let my stupid hormones get in the way of that.
“You said you wanted to get closer to me, you said you didn’t want this to just be about sex. And I made it all about me. I took you to that club.”
“No, it was… I mean, I liked going to that club.”
He shook his head, the tips of his fingers still grazing my hip bone, moving in a soft, slow, circle. “I’m glad. But I want to make sure your needs are being met, too, Charlotte. You need to trust me because you know I have your best interests in mind, that I would never hurt you. And part of that is me doing things to make you happy.”
“I’m happy. I mean, I’ve been happy being with you. But I want… I want to get to know you,” I said. “I feel so close to you when we’re… when we’re doing that kind of sex stuff, and I want to keep doing it, but I want to know you better, too.”
He nodded, his grip on my hip tightening. “It’s extremely difficult for me.”
“And it’s extremely difficult for me to trust you enough to let you do the things you’ve been doing to me.”
I saw a flicker of displeasure cross his face, and I could tell he didn’t like me saying I didn’t trust him. I remembered how he made me say I trust him while he was fucking me, how it excited him.
“Why is it so hard for you?” I asked gently.
He took a deep breath and his jaw clenched. “Everyone I’ve ever let in has left.”
The statement was so simple, so clear, that for a moment, I wasn’t sure what to say back.
“Nora?” I asked finally.
He flinched at her name, and his face set again, and I was afraid his walls were going to come back up. But then he nodded. “Nora. My father. My mother. My brother.”
“Oh.” I wanted to ask him if his family was dead, like Nora, or if it was something else. But I could tell from the pain in his voice that it was extremely hard for him to talk about this, and I didn’t want to push him too hard.
“Are you close with your family, Charlotte?” he asked me.
I thought about it. “I’m close with my sister,” I said finally. “My mother and I have a complicated relationship.”
“And your father?”
“He died when I was sixteen.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.” It was the standard response I gave whenever anyone said they were sorry about my dad. It had never made sense to me, people saying they were sorry. How could they be so sorry when they never even knew him?
“Charlotte,” Noah said, running his hand up my side. “I’m sorry about your father.”
I just nodded, not trusting myself to speak. I sent a silent prayer that Noah wouldn’t ask me how my father died, that I wouldn’t have to relive those horrible moments, even just in memory.
“And your mother? What does that mean, you have a complicated relationship?”
“It means that it’s complicated. I love her, but I’m not sure I like her.”
This made Noah smile. “Why don’t you like her?”
“She’s made some life choices that I don’t agree with. And she expects me to just accept her for them, and yet when I make choices she doesn’t agree with, she has no problem telling me that I’m ruining my life. Plus she remarried after my dad died, and I don’t care much for my stepfather.”
“Why? Did he hurt you?” Noah demanded.
“What? No. He’s just sort of … an asshole. I’m supposed to be going to his birthday party tomorrow night. It wasn’t a good night for anyone, but he insisted on it because it had to be on his actual birthday.�
�� I shook my head, realizing what a baby I sounded like. “Anyway.”
I reached out and touched Noah’s chest, letting my fingers linger on his pecs, his shoulders, his abs. Now that we weren’t caught up in a frenzy of lust, I had time to feel him, really feel him, and appreciate how firm and fit his body was.
“I’d like to go with you,” Noah said, his voice serious and quiet.
My hands stopped at his biceps. “To the party?”
“Yes. If it’s all right.”
“Sure,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant. “That would be nice.”
He nodded, like it was all settled.
I settled back into the crook of his arm, and he pulled me against him and kissed me on the forehead.
“What time is it?” I murmured.
He rolled over and looked at the clock. “It’s almost two.”
“Crap,” I said. “I have a meeting with Professor Worthington soon. About your case.” I moaned. “I’m so not in the mood for that.”
“What are you in the mood for, Charlotte?” he asked, pulling my hips into his.
I felt his erection against my leg and shook my head, pulling away from him. “You are insatiable,” I said.
“Only for you.”
“But if I’m going to get to my meeting on time, I have to shower.” I stood up, suddenly bashful about the fact that I was naked, even though obviously Noah had seen me naked and in many unmentionable positions.
I tried to keep the blanket wrapped around me, but Noah reached over and grabbed at it until it slid into a pool on the floor.
“I want to look at you,” he said. “Anytime I want.”
I felt exposed and vulnerable as I walked to the bathroom, but I loved knowing that he liked looking at my body, that he was so turned on by it that he could get hard just by being close to me.
After I showered, I dried my hair and dressed in some of the clothes I’d brought from my apartment. It felt a bit weird, wearing different clothes to see Professor Worthington than what I’d worn this morning, but my other clothes were strewn about the kitchen, wrinkled and in no condition to wear to a meeting.
When I got back into the bedroom, Noah had pulled on a pair of drawstring pajama pants and was checking his emails on his iPad.