by Jamie Knight
After a moment, Noah’s hand found its way back down to my pussy and, hey wadda ya know, his fingers ended up back inside me.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Yes!”
“Would you like me on top?” he asked.
“Okay,” I said, unsure but willing to try.
Turning me onto my back, Noah got on top of me, kissing me as he did so. I was a bit scared but excited too. Gently spreading my legs, Noah stroked the head of his cock against my tender pussy lips before pushing his head up inside me. I grabbed onto him and wrapping my legs around him as he started to move.
“It's okay, baby,” he whispered.
Damn right, it was! He had his cock all the way inside me, hitting my g-spot, the position adding to the pressure. I actually started to cry from happiness.
Noah kissed away my tears and then nuzzled my neck as he deftly fucked me, moving his huge cock in my tight little pussy, giving me more pleasure than I'd ever had before.
I came within minutes, not shaking like I usually did but almost going paralyzed, every muscle in my body locking at once. Noah stopped and waited for me to recover.
“You okay?” he asked when I started to relax.
“Y-y-yes,” I stammered, my jaw not quite co-operating.
“I'm gonna pull out, okay?”
“O-okay,” I said.
Ever so gently, Noah pulled his huge cock from my tight little pussy, gently massaging me after he did so. Moving back beside me, I turned onto my side, and Noah spooned me, kissing the back of my neck.
I didn't sleep a wink that night.
Noah breathed deeply beside me, occasionally flinching with dreams.
I just kept replaying our conversation over and over in my mind. I had said I was falling for him. Noah had said that he wanted things to be real, but did he really mean that? I couldn’t be sure, even with his apology for leaving before. There was no commitment for the future from him, just hopes. I needed something more than hopes.
If we were just fake fiancés, I couldn't stand the fact that after the event, we would go back to being strangers. I was his fake fiancée, no matter how close we got or how many times we had sex. I was awake all night running that through my head as Noah slept like a baby.
Chapter Eighteen - Noah
The hotel the Governor’s Gala was hosted at was fancier than my childhood home. For some reason, that made me even more nervous. Deep inside, all I wanted was for the night to be perfect. The opulence of the surroundings both added to that hope and pushed against it. There was an itch under my skin that made me worry that anything bad that happened in such a place would be ten times worse than at a more casual hotel.
And as my mom liked to remind me, the press would be here.
I suppose it was a good thing that all of my attention was focused on Emma. Not least because I hadn't seen her in about a week. Something about her having some things to take care of. Now that I had her back, I never wanted to let her go again. It was a weird and kind of scary thing to admit, even to myself.
I loved her and there was no point in hiding. It wasn't just sex disguised as love, as was so often the case. If anything, it was love disguised as sex, and it had taken me until that point to realize that.
I could be maddeningly slow sometimes.
We walked through the golden glory of the lobby, most of the metal surface literally being made of gold, deepening the irony of it being the venue of a charity event even further. There was a time in my more reckless days when I would have dumped paint over the whole rotten thing. It was a little-known fact that I was a bit of a hell-raiser in my younger days. Partly to spite my mom, who was pushing me hard into polite society and partly because of my inherently anarchistic nature.
If I was honest, it was a large part of my attraction to Emma. She was not another born-with-money bimbo. She knew what it was to work and wasn't scared to call out bullshit when she saw it. She had a skill and was using it to do what she always wanted to do, outside the parameters set up by a system that dictated that she needed a degree from a college that she couldn't afford. An attribute I both greatly loved and deeply respected.
As we walked through the opulent surroundings to the insanely elegant check-in desk, I put an arm around Emma’s waist and kissed her on the cheek.
“What was that for?” she asked.
“For being awesome,” I said.
She returned my embrace and put her head on my shoulder. Flagrantly ignoring the protocol of the gold-plated set, who were all swooning and weather talk until recent decades, I kissed her on the forehead. If the clerk noticed, she was admirably discreet about it.
Obtaining the key, we went to the elevator which, quite frankly, couldn't come fast enough for either of us. Once on our assigned floor, we all but raced each other down the plush carpeted corridor. Someone yelled at us to knock it off. Emma yelled back for him to stick it in what sounded like a very uncomfortable place.
No sooner were we in the room than we started literally tearing each other's clothes off. I really hoped Emma wasn't too attached to her dress because there was no way she was getting it back on again — one of the little black buttons actually bouncing off the window on the other side of the room.
As soon as my pants were off, Emma was down on her knees, sucking me furiously as though my cum contained the antidote. I put a hand on the back of her head to keep her from getting whiplash.
I came within minutes filling her mouth with cum, which Emma did her very best to swallow down. When she was finished, I picked her up and carried her over to the bed. Emma put her arms around my neck and kissed me hard as we went.
Despite our excitement, I was careful to lay Emma down gently, she seemed pretty tough, but I didn't want to push it. No sooner had her bare back touched the mattress than she opened her legs wide offering her sweet, wet pussy.
Accepting her gift with gratitude and humility, I kissed my way up her inner thigh starting at her knee in the way that I knew drove her crazy. Were I really a sadist, I would have started at her feet. I was tempted to, every part of her being beautiful to me, but I didn't want to torture her too much.
Making my way back up to her sweet little pussy, I ran my tongue the length of her delicate pink lips making her moan with pleasure. Giving her a couple more passes like that to get her ready, I started to lick harder and faster, eventually burying my face into her succulent sweetness. Licking her until she was screaming in ecstasy, I kissed her pussy lips and stroked her belly as she came down.
When she had recovered a bit, I lay down next to Emma, kissing her earnestly on the cheek. She turned her head and we kissed again on the lips.
“Can I be on top?” she asked.
“Sure, if you want to.”
“W-will you, help me?”
“Of course.”
We kissed again and I lay down on my back, helping Emma climb up on top. Holding on to her hips, I gently guided her as she lowered herself down on to my cock, easing it slowly into her pussy. Getting down further than I would have thought possible, Emma wobbled a bit, getting into a comfortable position. I held onto her tightly to keep her from going over.
When she was ready, Emma put her hands on my chest and started moving up and down on me. Starting off slowly, she built up in intensity until she was jackhammering on my cock. It never ceased to amaze me how great she felt.
Getting off me just in time, Emma turned around and sucked my cock until I unloaded into her mouth. I licked her luscious pussy until she screamed and collapsed on me. Scooping her up, I lay her down in a more comfortable position and cuddled her until she fell asleep.
When the clock-radio came on the next morning, and I woke up with my beautiful girl in my arms, I couldn't help smiling to myself.
“Hey,” Emma said, turning towards me.
“Hey,” I said.
We kissed briefly before Emma even got her eyes open. Such was the sharpness of her instincts. It was comforting in a way.
I had bought Emma a dress of her choosing which brought out the best of her most attractive attributes. I put on my expensive, tailored tux.
“You look so handsome,” Emma said, helping me with my tie.
“And you love it,” I smirked.
“Yeah, I do.”
We kissed, Emma having to get up on her tiptoes in order to reach, even while wearing high heels.
Emma was absolutely buzzing on the way to the elevator and on the trip down, going over the idea for her growing catering company, pausing only to take my hand and kiss me after the doors closed.
“I'm lucky I found you,” I told her.
“And don't forget it,” she teased.
With Emma's help and encouragement, I made it all the way to the doors of the reception hall only stopping once for a deep fortifying breath.
“You'll do great,” she assured me.
“Thanks to you.”
When we entered the ballroom, I tried to not be knocked down by the ambiance. Everyone else was in black tie. The smell of money wafting off of them as they primly sipped champagne from crystal flutes. I wonder how many people they could have housed with the catering budget alone.
“I wonder who their caterer is,” Emma said, taking a slightly different interpretation of the situation.
“I'll be sure to ask,” I said.
“Noah!”
“Hi, mom,” I said, not needing to turn around.
“And you must be Emma,” Mom said, reaching out to take my date’s hand.
“Mrs. Wells,” Emma said, shaking mom's hand with a slight bow.
“Good gracious she's a pretty thing,” Mom said to me.
“I noticed, we are getting married after all,” I said.
“Don't get smart,” Mom admonished.
“I can't help it, it's genetic,” I teased.
“Oh you,” Mom said blushing furiously, picking up on the cunningly disguised compliment.
“Did Sarah make it?” I asked.
“Yes, but I couldn't convince your father.”
“He's retired,” I pointed out.
“Try telling him that,” Mom said, giving one of her world-famous eye-rolls.
“Never.”
“Holy crap!”
We all turned to see Sarah, my little sister, walking up to us, beautiful as ever in a gorgeous dress she no doubt designed herself and a glass of what looked to be club soda in her hand.
“Language!” Mom admonished her.
“English,” Sarah said with a smirk.
We shared a subtle high five, Mom didn't notice but I was pretty sure Emma did, even though she didn't say anything.
“What in Hades are you wearing?” Sarah asked, looking me up and down, admiring my designer tux. She was very into fashion.
“Like it?” I asked.
“Hell, yes.”
Mom looked about ready to drop dead of a heart attack.
“This is Emma, she's my fiancée,” I said, trying to avoid disaster.
Sarah switched her focus over to Emma, looking her up and down a couple times and then wolf-whistled her approval.
“Thanks,” Emma said blushing shyly.
“What did my brother have to do to get a hottie like you?”
“Just be himself,” Emma said kissing me on the cheek.
“Ain't that sweet,” Sarah smirked.
“Contraction!” Mom shouted making most of the people around us jump and us.
“Don't be silly, you're too old to get pregnant,” Sarah joked.
I could tell that Mom wanted to smack her upside the head, but we were in public, so she restrained herself.
“Anyway,” Mom said, still giving Sarah the Evil Eye, “Emma is clearly much better for you than Gina ever was.”
“Thanks,” I said, meaning it.
Mom took Emma by both hands and kissed her on each cheek as a way of welcoming her to the family. Seeing them together made my heart swell, and I knew then that I could never let Emma go. I had failed at relationships in the past, but this time, I had to make this work —whatever it took.
Chapter Nineteen - Noah
The cogs planted deep within my watch did their magic, taking time out of the conceptual realm and turning it into something physical. Predictable. Practical.
I wished that Emma could have been there with me, but the organizers had more or less insisted that I stay in the wings of the stage to increase the drama of the reveal, as though everyone there didn't already know who the award was going to. I guess they figured that the sight of me getting up from one of the tables and making my way up to the stage would bring down the gravitas of the occasion. Optics being of primary importance for them.
I wasn't the only one getting an award that night. It would be kind of ridiculous to put on such an event just for a single person. Even for them. Many on the board could fairly be said to be possessed of more money than sense, but there were limits to even their extravagance. As a result, all the award recipients were backstage. Some making a better show of not being nervous than others. Though it was clear from other indications, ones they didn't even know that they were giving, that they were all nervous to varying degrees.
I offered a lozenge to the man next to me who seemed like he could pass out in terror at any moment.
“Thanks,” he said, popping the candy in his mouth.
“No problem,” I said.
“Nice tux,” said the elegant woman across from me.
She was thirty at the most, the quality and choice of her clothes and jewels indicating that she was very much of the new rich, uncomfortable with her position in life to the point of trying too hard to fit into it. Her comment was meant as a slight, but I pitied her too much to really take offense. I had been in her position once. She just had yet to get over it.
To pass the time I started going over my speech. I had read it over so many times since writing it I had it committed to memory, but I went through it again. I added a line here, took sections out there, and completely changed the quote at the beginning. I had been trying not to be funny but was beginning to think that it might be imperative.
My speech done and ready, I stole a peek out at the crowd. After a brief bit of scanning, I found my table. Mom was grinning for the cameras as was her way. Her still sharp eyes scanning the crowds of people she had seen thousands of times before with practiced efficiency.
I really wasn't sure how Sarah would get on with Emma. My sister could be a bit aggressive sometimes and suffered from what our grandpa had called a “deplorable excessive personality.” Not the nicest thing to say about one's own granddaughter. Though I still couldn't fully disagree, except in terms of taking out the word 'deplorable' and he hadn't actually been wrong. Not that it had any effect on her. From what I could tell, darling Sarah ran out of fucks to give sometime around her twelfth birthday.
To be fair, Emma could be a bit bold herself. While this could well lead to something resembling a combination of nitro with glycerin, instead they seemed to be getting along famously.
I couldn't help but smile. Both out of happiness at seeing them get along so well, Sarah more than once telling me that it would be cool to have s sister, but also relief. I wouldn't have not married Emma if Sarah didn't like her, but it would have been hard, my sister being really important to me also. I was relieved that it wouldn't have to come to that.
Ducking back into the wings, I saw a distinguished gent in full black-tie take a clandestine swig from an impressively well-hidden flask, and I wished I had done the same thing.
“Our first award of the evening is arguably the most important,” said the board president speaking into the microphone, “the award for humanitarian of the year. Truly a great honor given to the person who has done more for the betterment of the poor and marginalized than anyone else over the la
st year. This year’s winner is a man that needs little introduction. Noah Wells, International Human Rights attorney at the Howell and Howell law firm. Not only has Noah gone the world over in a dogged attempt to correct grave injustice, but he has also donated more money to more vital charities than all of our members, including the board, put together. I hope you will join me in welcoming to the stage Mr. Noah Wells.”
It was the applause that did it. At least that was the story I decided to go with. Whatever the cause might have been, somewhere between where I was standing backstage and the microphone, also plated in gold, I completely forgot what I was going to say. My entire speech was deleted from my mind.
I took the statuette, which I half expected to be shaped like a dollar sign, and turned to the assembled crowd.
“I've always heard that it's best to open with a joke,” I said, looking at the statuette, “but I can't seem to think of anything funny to say right now.”
“That's a first!” Sarah called from the table, sending a wave of nervous laughter around the room, like they wanted to laugh but weren't sure if they were allowed to.
“My sister, everyone. She's single by the way.”
Sarah flipped me the bird. My mom noticed and started batting at Sarah's hand like it had burst into flames, and she was trying to put it out.
“Life is precious,” I said, finally able to look out at the crowd, “ and far too important to worry about the self-righteous who think they have to tell us what to do or what to say just because they have money or have gotten themselves into a position of assumed power.”
“Here, here!” Sarah shouted.
“That is why I do what I do. To give people the means to fight back against the authoritarians and live their own, best life as they see fit.”
“Fuckin' A!” Sarah and Emma agreed, causing a flurry of shocked gasps and not only from Mom.
“I didn't use to look forward to the future. Didn't really see one honesty,” I said, “other times I didn't think I would have one. Like when I was in the Serbian prison talking to political prisoners with armed militia all around me. If I told you the number of times I've been shot, you would likely drop your monocles. But now I know that I do have a future. Not only as a lawyer and philanthropist fighting the good fight in the name of human freedom and dignity but as a husband to my beautiful fiancée, Emma. If you'll still have me, I want you to be my wife.”