I’m helpless to do anything but watch as Noah undoes my seatbelt, followed by popping the button on my jeans and then pulling down my zipper, but he doesn’t take my cock out.
Bastard.
My hands tremble, so I grip my armrests. Noah’s masculine and expensive-smelling cologne blankets me. This is unlike any hookup I’ve had. The way his hands move over me, the way he stares up at me with those stupid eyes that are unnaturally aqua. Even though this is about getting off, there’s no rush as his hand goes under my shirt and over my hard abs and pecs. He hasn’t even touched my cock yet, but I’m ready to come.
His mouth quirks. He knows what he’s doing to me.
“Are you always this torturous?” I ask.
His smile widens. “You think this is torturous?” He pinches my nipple, and pins and needles erupt down my body. “I can do torturous.”
“Wanna come,” I complain.
“This isn’t one of your cheap hookups. I’m going to show you sex is more than a quick BJ in a nightclub.”
I squirm in my seat. I ain’t used to this level of … intensity. Get in, get off, disappear. That’s what I know.
“Stop freaking out,” Noah says. “It’s still just sex, but it doesn’t have to be quick and meaningless.” He stretches up and kisses me again. Slowly this time. It calms my racing heart but does nothing for my hard-on. If anything, it makes it harder.
Noah reaches between us, gripping me through my boxers.
“Oh my God, just pull it out already,” I complain.
“For that”—Noah stands—“you need a time out.”
Time out? What the fuck? “It’s official. You’re as annoying in bed as you are out of it.”
He unbuttons his light-blue shirt. Agonizingly slow. It takes everything in me not to chant that I hate him over and over again.
His shirt falls off his dark, toned shoulders, and I tell myself not to groan. Don’t move. Don’t even breathe.
When he reaches for his jeans, I white-knuckle my armrests. Noah’s smile simultaneously pisses me off and turns me on. Somehow.
His pants drop to the floor, and I’m not surprised he’s going commando—like he knew this would happen. Damn it. His cock is long and hard and—
“I think you’re drooling,” he says and wraps his fingers around his shaft.
“Gurnnngh.”
“Is that English?”
“You’re drivin’ me crazy.” Gah, stupid accent.
“Mmm, speak Southern to me.” He strokes his cock, and I’ve never seen anything more mouthwatering. I want to lean in and take him in my mouth, but I’m sure that will result in a longer time out. Doesn’t stop me from licking my lips as he swipes precum from the tip. “You want this?”
All I can manage is a small nod.
He takes one step forward, my anticipation builds, and then the asshole sinks to his knees again.
I groan.
“No complaining.”
The second he pulls my cock out of my boxer briefs, tension builds in my gut, and I almost come. “I ain’t gonna last long.”
Noah chuckles. “Ain’t. So cute.” His head dips and his tongue swipes over my slit, and then he sucks me into his mouth.
“Holy fuck.”
I try to grip his hair, but his closely shaved head doesn’t allow it. Instead, I fist my hand on my leg. My hips lift off the seat, and Noah moans around my dick.
Closing my eyes, I try to make this feeling last. The wet heat of his mouth brings me closer and closer to the edge, but then he’s pulling off me. The cold air of the cabin hits my skin, and my cock tries to shrivel up.
My eyes fly to Noah’s.
“I told you to keep your eyes on me. No closing them.”
“Fuckin’ hell,” I mumble.
“And no complaining.”
I’ve never had the desire to give the finger to the guy blowing me while simultaneously begging him not to stop.
When he takes me into his mouth again, I make sure not to look away. Watching as his head bobs up and down adds to the sensory overload.
“Noah,” I warn.
His mouth is replaced by his hand. “Come on my chest.”
My breathing is ragged, but I grind out, “Swallow. Less messy.”
“You forgetting there’s a shower in the plane bathroom? You were literally just in there.”
That’s all it takes. I come with a grunt all over his skin. My muscles tremble, and I haven’t fully recovered when Noah stands, grips onto my hair, and brings his cock to my lips.
I welcome him eagerly, taking him to the root in my mouth, while my arms continue to shake and my breathing still falters.
“Damn,” Noah whispers.
The plane hits unexpected turbulence, and Noah falls forward. His hands go to the headrest of my seat. His cock goes to the back of my throat, and it doesn’t help the breathing situation, but I want it. Fuck, I want it.
“You ready for it?” he asks.
I hum and squeeze his ass cheeks, controlling his thrusts into my mouth. His muscles contract under my fingers, and warm spurts hit my tongue. My chest fills with something like pride or accomplishment. Making a guy come is the one thing that boosted my confidence whenever I doubted football. A shrink would probably say it’s the intimacy I get from being with someone, but that’s bullshit. It gives me a high.