One Night Flame

by Beverly Evans

  Her pussy’s twitching around me, ready to be fucked. She tries to push back against me again, but I press down between her shoulders to pin her to the bed.

  “Stay still,” I whisper. She whines a little, turning her head to the side.

  “Noah,” she breathes. “Quit teasing.”

  I start to thrust my hips into her slowly, filling her as deep as I can go, running my hands up and down her back and shoulders as I pierce her with my shaft.

  “Harder,” she begs. “Please, fuck me harder.”

  I finally give in to her demands and start pounding her. God, she feels so perfect. I tug on her hair again until she’s propped up on her hands, and wrap my hands around her, cupping her tits. I hardly hold back, savoring every moan and whimper she makes. I feel my orgasm speeding up fast, but I don’t want to end this yet. I pull her up until her back meets my chest, almost like she’s sitting on my lap.

  I take both of my hands and clasp her hips tightly, using them as leverage to drive into her even harder. She lets out a guttural moan in pleasure, and I pull her back into me with everything I have as I fuck her with abandon.

  She turns her head, and I take the chance to kiss her. It’s a messy half moan, half kiss for both of us. I trail my hand between her legs and rub her clit, then pick up my pace, slamming into her as fast as I possibly can. One hand remains firmly gripped on her hip, while the other toys with her clit.

  She starts mumbling incoherently, a mix of ‘yes’ and ‘more’ before she comes again, loudly. Her whole body jerks like an explosion. The sound of her voice is so raw and sexy, so unexpected to hear coming from her mouth. It makes me lose it.

  “Fuck,” is all I manage to choke out as I finally come, my face buried in her hair.

  It takes me a long time to come back down to earth because holy shit. I’ve never come so hard in my life. Every time with her feels better than the last, somehow.

  Nadine sighs and leans back against me, spent. I slide out of her and go to get a towel to clean her up. I come back and find her laying down, smiling at me. There’s a thin sheen of sweat on her whole body, and it gives her a beautiful glow in the low light of the bedroom. She cleans up and curls up to a pillow. I do the same. It smells like her.

  “Why am I sniffing this pillow when I could be getting the real thing?” I ask, pulling her toward me.

  She giggles, snuggles up to my chest, tucking herself under my chin and throwing her leg over mine. We lay together in perfect silence, listening to each other breathe. I could stay like this forever.

  I hear Mabel snort and look up. She’s standing next to the bed, staring at us, obviously confused. Two people in the bed? In her spot? Pure blasphemy in her dog world.

  “Can Mabel come up?” I ask Nadine, which Mabel takes for ‘go ahead and come up’.

  She hops on the bed at our feet and wedges herself between our legs, burying her face in the covers. Nadine laughs and makes a little space for her, keeping the rest of her body as close to me as possible. Mabel’s hot breath on my legs through the sheets is comforting, as usual.

  Now things are perfect.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Nadine

  “Fuck yeah!” is the first thing I hear when I wake up. My eyes slowly flutter open, and I see that I’m alone in Noah’s bed. Our bed? The bed that we both have been sharing for the past month and a half. Mabel isn’t in it either, so I assume that Noah let me sleep in. She loves to cuddle with us.

  I stretch and roll over to check my phone. It’s Sunday, and it’s nearly eleven. I almost never sleep in this late, but god, I’m so sleepy.

  I peel myself out of bed and shuffle to the bathroom. After splashing cold water on my face and brushing my teeth, I feel slightly less disgusting. I put on a t-shirt and some panties before going out to the kitchen where Noah is. The smell of bacon and pancakes is almost always mouthwatering, but today, my stomach turns, and I don’t know why. We did have a big dinner last night — pasta, which I made — but usually, that doesn’t stop me from eating a big brunch the next day.

  “Hey, Deen, I’m making pancakes, and they aren’t a disaster,” Noah calls from the stove. He’s shirtless, in his boxers, holding up a spatula. His hair is still messy from bed, sticking up in the back, and that mixed with the pure excitement on his face is the cutest thing I’ll see all day, no doubt.

  “Wow, I’m proud of you,” I smile, coming up for a kiss.

  He snakes his arm around my waist and plants a bone-melter on me. We’ve been doing a lot of kissing since we started whatever this is, and I don’t know when I’ll ever get tired of them. Or any of the other physical affection he lays on me daily, sometimes twice in a day.

  “Did you cook bacon shirtless?” I ask when we come up for air. He smells like bacon, and the smell mixed with his body scent is strangely enticing.

  “I value the skin on my nipples, so no.” He points to his ovens. “Baked it. Keeping them warm in there.”

  “Look at you. You’re basically a chef now,” I grin, feeling genuinely proud of him. He’d come a long way since I first taught him how to cook.

  We’ve both come a long way.

  After we talked and had sex that night, things fell into an even easier rhythm. He’s been open with me about everything he’s feeling, which makes me comfortable telling him how I feel. There’s no room for doubt about how he feels about me because he tells me. It’s the perfect blend of everything — our hangouts, just the right amount of casual physical affection, and sex.

  Lots of sex. All over the place. I can’t get enough, and neither can he.

  I’ve always thought that seduction had to be a whole production — fancy underwear, music, candles, flowers. But as it turns out, all I need to do is be close to naked and do something he finds cute, and Noah is all over me. It’s an ego boost, honestly. I’ve never felt sexy like this before, and I love it.

  “Taste a pancake to make sure I didn’t fuck them up. I gave Mabel one, and she approved, but she also puts her nose up other dog’s asses, so…” He cuts a piece of a pancake off with a fork and feeds it to me.

  It’s a regular, buttermilk pancake, which is my favorite, but today it tastes different in a way I can’t quite pin down. It’s still good, though, so I nod. He grins.

  “Thank you for cooking,” I say, giving him a kiss on the chin.

  “You seemed exhausted, so I figured I could try to it on my own.” He looks me over, his eyes lingering on my boobs. I never thought they were particularly great, but he loves them. “Sleep okay?”

  “Yeah, I guess.” I watch him turn the burner on again and start a new pancake before the pan gets hot enough. I bite my tongue even though I want to tell him how he messed up. I appreciate the effort.

  He’s strangely sweet like this, which I’ve come to adore about him too. Yeah, he’s still a snarky ass sometimes (okay, a lot of times), but now he follows his jokes with a kiss or a squeeze on the butt.

  I like how much he touches me, too. I keep finding myself in awe of it. I can’t imagine being in a relationship where I rarely, if ever, get physical affection. Grant never touched me besides holding my hand or kissing me sometimes. I never knew it’s a thing that brightens my day.

  I rest my hand on my stomach, feeling it gurgle. The little bit of pancake flips around in my stomach. I turn on the kettle to start some water for mint tea as he flips the pancake. Once it’s done, he guides it into the oven, which is set on low to keep the food warm.

  “I need one of those aprons that says ‘Kiss the Cook’,” he says, putting the spatula down and taking me by the hips.

  “You can just take a kiss, you know,” I wink, looking up at him and running the back of my hand along his stubble.

  He sucks at shaving, and his beard grows fast, so whenever he isn’t on call, I get this treat. And I love the feeling of his beard scratching my inner thighs or my breasts.

  He smiles down at me, and I go up on my toes to give him another kiss. I thought it would ju
st be a peck, but he cups the back of my neck and makes it deep. He takes us backward until my back hits the kitchen island. He hoists me up to sit on counter and yanks off my t-shirt. It lands somewhere on the ground, I think, but all I can focus on is his attention on my nipples. Usually I love it, but today it hurts.

  “Oh, no,” I say, and not in the playful, sexy way I’ve come to enjoy. I push his head away. “They’re sore.”

  “Hm?” He looks confused.

  “PMS, I guess,” I shrug, making a mental note to check how soon my period’s supposed to arrive. I’m terrible at keeping track despite the pill.

  “Well, more pussy for me, I guess,” he grins, pushing me onto my back and going down on me, planting kisses on the way down. Each one sends a new shiver up my spine.

  He yanks my underwear to the side and goes to town. He makes me forget about my turning stomach and my sore boobs instantly. He’s so good at this. So good at all sex things and has me doing things I never thought I would even want to do. Things that make me blush until we actually do them.

  The stubble rubbing against my inner thighs feels so good. He licks and nips at my pussy, alternating in speed and rhythm, using his fingers to help.

  “Right there,” I gasp, nodding. My mind is a total blank now. All I want – or need – is for him to keep doing this.

  Noah nods from his perch on his knees and keeps going, slowly picking up speed. I can feel his own soft grunts and moans as he works his magic, which only sends pleasure shooting through me even more.

  Soon enough, I’m a trembling mess, and I come, feeling so wet that I’m surprised. Before I can even catch my breath, he’s standing and yanking his boxers down. He sits me up and pulls my legs around him, sliding into me in one smooth stroke. I love this position since the angles make his cock hit me in just the right spot, and I get to check out his body and face.

  “Watch us.” He cups his hand around the back of my neck again and makes me look down at where we’re joined. The sight of his huge, thick cock going in and out of me is so hot that I have to reach down and play with myself.

  He makes a satisfied sound in the back of his throat and speeds up. Usually we take our time, but today he moves quickly, desperately. Like he just can’t get enough of me. It’s so sexy to feel this needed.

  He adjusts my legs to make sure they’re tightly clamped around him, then in one quick motion, he grabs my ass and takes a big step back from the counter.

  I can’t believe it. I’m suspended in the air, only barely hanging on as gravity pulls me down onto his cock even further. The sensation is like nothing I’ve ever felt in my life. I dig my nails into his shoulders and lean into him, kissing his neck fiercely, trusting him more than anything as he pummels away at me.

  Noah stays like that, holding me up with only the sheer force of his own body, and rails into me so hard that I reach my climax almost instantly. I collapse into him, but before he falls, he gently lets me down to my feet.

  He’s still rock-hard. I glance down at his massive cock and then back up to him, wondering what he wants to do next. Noah grins that perfect cocky little smirk and then leads me to the couch.

  Everything moves so fast it’s almost like a blur. He bends me down over the side of the couch and rams back into me again. I gasp out in pleasure as he fills me up, digging his fingers tightly into my shoulders, and start bucking my hips back at him.

  “Come for me, baby,” I gasp.

  Somehow, Noah picks up the pace even faster than I thought possible, thrusting his cock in and out of me like a jackhammer. Before long, he starts shaking and lets out a deep grunt, exploding within me once again. It sets off another climax in me.

  We sit there for a minute, saying nothing, just catching our breaths. Noah leans forward and plants a deep kiss right in the small of my back. I smile. What a good way to wake up.

  Noah kisses me on the forehead and picks me up, guiding me to the bathroom while staying inside me. He climbs into the shower and puts me down, turning the water on to just the right temperature.

  We clean up leisurely, even though the food’s keeping warm in the oven. I like taking showers with him — it’s usually time-efficient, and we hang out like we’re talking at a bar. It doesn’t hurt that he has an amazing shower with perfect water pressure. He gets out first and hastily towels off.

  “I’ll plate up the food,” he says, heading out with just a towel slung low on his hips. He has such a sexy back.

  I take my time drying off, looking at myself in the mirror. I look tired, but I also look happy. Genuinely happy. Noah and I haven’t told anyone (besides Krissy) about whatever we are — and I’m surprised I’m okay with not putting a label on this — but it’s getting difficult to hold in all the joy. We’re definitely acting like a couple.

  I throw my hair up and put on my robe since I doubt we’ll go anywhere today. I open the drawer that holds all of my bathroom stuff and grab my birth control pack. I flick it open and pause, staring at it. Something’s off. I look at the clock that Noah’s put in the bathroom and look at the date.

  Crap.

  I’ve missed some pills. I’m usually so good about taking them, even if I do it absently and don’t always pay attention to how many days are left before my period. Things haven't been as routine as they were in the city.

  Panic rises in me. The sore boobs. The nausea. The fact that we’ve been relying on me taking the pill for protection as we’ve boned in every single room in this house.

  I put my hands on the sink and take a deep breath. I can’t panic yet. I need to take a test. I might have just screwed up my cycle or something by missing one here and there. That can happen, right?

  I put the pills back in the drawer and suck in a deep breath.

  I’ll think about this tomorrow. I don’t want to ruin what we have going on.

  I walk back out into the kitchen and find Noah sitting at the counter already, scrolling through his phone with his plate of food in front of him. The pancakes look delicious, but my stomach still twists. Now I don’t know whether it’s nerves or whatever’s happening in my body. Either way, I put on a smile and sit with him, nibbling on the food enough for him to not notice I’m acting strangely.

  The rest of the day, I quietly panic and lie about being ‘just tired’. It kills me to do it, to my surprise. I need to talk to someone about it, but I don’t want to scare him if it’s just a false alarm. That’s the kind of bombshell I never want to drop in a relationship, especially now.

  I swallow hard as he laughs at the movie we’re watching, completely unaware of my turmoil. I want to keep this going. I want to hear him laugh every day and playfully tease me.

  I go to sleep early and attempt to get up for my early shift at the bakery the next day.

  It’s still dark out. I think I hit the snooze a few times, but after a while, my hand moves of its own volition. Eventually, I feel the bed dip next to me.

  “Babe, you have work today, don’t you?” Noah asks, shaking me.

  I wake up, my stomach feeling just as off as it did yesterday. I feel like I’ve just fallen asleep like I haven’t slept at all. I hate the feeling.

  “Yeah, just ten more minutes,” I groan, burying my face into the pillow again.

  “It’s eight-thirty,” he says. “You’ve had ten extra minutes about twelve times.”

  “Shoot!” That wakes me up. Well, it gets me moving, at least.

  I dive out of bed and throw on my work clothes, looking at my phone. I’ve gotten a ton of texts from Mom asking where I am and a few calls. I set my phone, so all calls are silent until eight, and Mom gave up on calling a while back.

  “Want me to drive you?” he asks me. I’ve been driving my car from high school since I came back.

  “No, it’s fine. I’m good.” I make sure my hair’s out of my face. “Thank you for waking me up.”

  “Babs called and asked me if you were dead, so I had to. Otherwise, I would have left you alone.” He kisses me on t
he lips, hands me my purse, and spanks me lightly toward the door. “Have a good day.”

  “You too!” I say, booking it to my car.

  I zoom to work, which is a twenty-minute drive. Thankfully I know ways around traffic. By the time I get there, it’s mid-morning rush, and Suze, one of the part-timers, is manning the register. She gives me a confused look as she puts a muffin into a paper bag for someone.

  “Sorry, sorry. Just overslept,” I explain, slapping on my Sweets by Barbara hat.

  “It’s fine. It’s not like you do it all the time. Can you man the espresso machine?” Suze asks.

  I nod, then go to wash my hands. I’m still feeling queasy, but working the machine makes me want to drink coffee. If I drink coffee on an empty stomach, I’ll for sure be sick. I grit my teeth through the morning rush, churning out lattes and americanos until finally, things slow down.

  I’m so freaking tired.

  I make myself a coffee, go heavy on the cream, and snag a blueberry muffin before going in the back. Mom and Margie are at the big stainless steel table, working on a wedding cake.

  “What happened, Deenie?” Mom asks, looking more concerned than annoyed.

  “Just overslept.” I take a bite of my muffin and regret taking such a big one. I sip coffee to help it go down easier, but I feel so queasy that I don’t know if I can hold it down. I put my coffee and muffin to the side.

  “I was worried. I had to call Noah to see if you were even okay,” Mom says.

  “You’re still living with him?” Margie asks, not pausing as she rolls out some fondant.

  “Yeah, just while my house is getting fixed again. The owner I’m renting from is doing some renovations, and all the electrical stuff takes a while,” I nod.

  Noah and I hadn’t talked about me moving out again. If what we’re doing doesn’t have a label and is, by extension, casual, moving in with him permanently seems like a strange move. But I really like living with him. It’s not just the fact that his house is great and that he has a cleaning lady twice a week, so I never really have to do anything. It feels like home to me in a way that no other place has, except the house I grew up in.