Chapter 172

Hannah

Noah set me down on the carpeted floor of his bedroom and moved to turn on the bedside lamp. I stood awkwardly in the middle of the room for a moment, feeling very much like a college student on her first one night stand, and looked around.

The guest room that Noah had been occupying as of late had all the markers of him; the scent of his cologne, his rumpled clothes over the back of a chair, his leather loafers—perfectly polished and lined up beside one another—sitting by the door.

Speaking of which… For a moment, as I looked around at the small room, my eyes flicked over to the exit. I should walk through it, I thought to myself, scratching my head. I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t…

“Hannah?”

The sound of his voice, still gravelly and thick from sleep, pulled me out of my daze. I snapped my head around to see him standing beside the bed, the sheets rumpled.

“Are you coming?” he asked, gesturing to the bed.

I hesitated for a moment, but only a moment—because the moon, nearly full, showed her face from behind a cloud and shone into the room like she was peering in at us. I felt my wolf writhe in the depths of my stomach, begging me to go to him.

And I did.

Noah laid down, holding the blankets up for me. I took a deep breath before straddling him, my cream silk nightgown pushing up and pooling around my thighs.

Neither of us spoke, although I think even if we did, it would have been incoherent. My mind was numb and stupid, only one thought bursting to the surface: need him. Want him. Now.

I didn’t waste time pondering whether it was a bad idea.

Leaning down, I captured his lips against mine again, savoring the taste of his lips and tongue. So familiar, yet so foreign at the same time.

We had done this a thousand times before on our monthly intimacy nights, but still my heart pounded a million miles a minute, and my legs trembled as I gently, slowly, lifted myself just enough to give my hand space to move down and reach into the waistband of his pajama pants.

A soft exhale escaped him as I slipped my hand inside, stroking the warm member that was waiting for me. My other hand moved to stroke down the corded muscles of his chest, my fingertips bobbing over the dips and mounds of each ab.

Still, he didn’t speak, not even as I began stroking up and down his already-hard member. I didn’t speak, either, just focused on keeping my mind quiet and empty and stupid.

His left hand came up to cup my breast, his palm warm through the thin lace of my nightgown. In the chilly air of the room, my nipples were already hard, gently poking through the lace. He paused to pinch one, eliciting a shiver from me, before his forefinger slipped beneath the strap of my gown and slipped it aside.

My breast fell out, almost like it had a mind of his own. His lips found it first, then his tongue, swirling around the puckered skin. I bit my lower lip and gently pushed the waistband of his pants down, cupping his exposed member in one hand while my other hand moved aside my panties.

But before I could slip him inside, his thick arms were wrapping so tightly around my waist that I almost couldn’t breathe. Suddenly, the room tilted, and a moment later I found myself on my back with him above me.

My eyes widened as he propped one hand up on the headboard—just like he had so many times before during our monthly intimacy nights, but it felt different now, not just an attempt to put some distance between our bodies but rather to get a good view.

Slowly, achingly, his rough fingers trailed down the front of my body, the tip of his cock hovering just out of reach of the wetness between my legs. First my throat, then my collarbone, then my exposed breast, then the soft silk covering my belly, and then my thighs.

He lingered there, right at the apex of my thighs, and his thumb gently pulled my panties away. The elastic stretched.

“Say it,” he whispered.

I quirked an eyebrow. “Say what?”

Noah released the elastic of my panties, and they snapped hard against my inner thigh. I flinched, biting my lower lip.

“You know,” he whispered, pulling the elastic out again.

I shook my head, squirming slightly beneath him. “I don’t. I—”

Snap. The elastic bit into the soft flesh of my thigh, causing a soft whimper to slip out from somewhere deep in my throat. I looked up at him with doe eyes, genuinely confused. He clicked his tongue and shook his head.

Gently, he moved his thumb over to the center and began to move it in a slow, tantalizing circle across my swollen clit. My pussy lips, already soaked, practically throbbed at his touch and it was all I could do not to squirm and ache and beg for him to just give me what I wanted already.

But he stayed like that for a while, his thumb circling slowly, slowly, until I thought I might burst. And I remained silent, waiting, patient.

Then: “Say the name of the man you think about,” he murmured. His green eyes bored into me, dark and heady, as he casually spit into his palm and stroked it along the length of his shaft. I felt the tip press against me, and I bit my lip so hard I thought I tasted blood.

“The… The name?” I whispered. The head of his cock pressed harder against me, and a low growl rumbled in his throat. He leaned down, his face so close now that I could feel his hot breath spraying across my throat, although his hand still gripped the headboard—his 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 was talking about. My face flushed red, although whether from embarrassment or ecstasy as he filled me, I couldn’t be sure.

“Say it,” he growled, thrusting fully into me now. 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 so that his chest now glistened in the light, he flashed his white teeth down at me. “That’s what I thought.”

Neither of us said a word after that, although there was no need. Words were useless here; 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, let my legs fall open on the bed and clutched the sheets beside me. My eyes roamed his sinewy body as he moved over me, my hand occasionally coming up to stroke along his waist and chest.

Occasionally, he, too, moved his fingers along my bare breasts or pushed my nightgown out of the way to grab my hips and tug me closer against him, an aching attempt at getting himself deeper, closer.

Every so often, he would curse or mutter my name, the sound almost violent in his throat. Once, I took his hand and wrapped his fingers around my throat, reveling in the light pressure that he gave me and the way that it made me tighten around his cock. But we never said more than that.

Just as we were about to reach our climax together, I pushed myself up onto my elbows, my neck exposed to him 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 just before he burst almost too much to bear.

He bent his head, and I swore I felt his fangs drop slightly, two sharp pricks along the column of my throat, but I didn’t pull away. At that moment, as he finished himself inside of me, I didn’t care if he ripped my throat out with his bare teeth. Nothing mattered. Not the ecstasy, not the pain, not the consequences.

When we finally collapsed into a wordless, sweaty, panting heap, it was all I could do to shudder to my feet and stumble to the bathroom.

The aftereffects of our romp trailed down my leg, and I couldn’t help but grin as I staggered past the full-length mirror and caught 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 bathroom, Noah was already half asleep. I curled up under the blankets beside him, turned away, my face to the moon—who had watched our whole tryst from her place in the sky.

We fell asleep on opposite sides of the bed, but I thought I felt his fingers come to rest on my waist just before the world went dark.