Breaking Noah

While my fingers run circles, I momentarily get lost in my own pleasure and I don’t realize that he’s moved his hand down slightly. It’s when he pushes a finger inside of me that I completely lose it. I try to move my hand faster, but it’s trapped under his, and he’s compensating with another finger and angling them to hit that perfect spot.

I decide to let him have this moment. I pull my hand out, placing it on his thigh. The heel of Noah’s hand massages me while his digits do their job diligently. It’s a matter of seconds and I’m firing off onto his hand.

“Oh, fuck.” I pant, trying to catch my breath.

“You’re trouble,” he growls, moving his head to catch my lips with his. Wet and sloppy, our kisses fill the kitchen, echoing off the tile. “Never in all my life…” he starts to say when I come down from my orgasmic high. Reaching behind me, I pull at his zipper, needing so much more than I just got. If he’s this good with his fingers, I’m going to get everything out of him that I can.

We both hear the front door at the same time. I jump off his lap and scramble for my clothes as he fumbles with his pants.

“Quick,” I whisper, throwing his coat in his arms. “Go out the sliding glass door.”

“I thought you said he wouldn’t be home for a while,” Noah mutters. His eyes are wide with fear, as if the realization of what we are doing has just hit him. His deer-in-the-headlights look really is adorable, and I’d find it amusing except for the fact that my boyfriend, my hotheaded boyfriend, will be walking in the apartment in a second. Having Dillon catch me with another man in our dining room doesn’t do anything to bring Karly justice. It’ll only land me on the streets with nowhere to sleep.

I plant a kiss on his lips, then put my finger, the one that’s still coated with my arousal, in his mouth, letting him suck off my essence, before pushing him out the door and sliding it closed in his face. I turn around just in time to see Dillon stumble into the kitchen. Lucky for me, he’s so damn drunk, he just grabs a soda from the fridge and stumbles into the living room. I laugh. I’m standing by the door, half naked and no doubt reeking of sweat, and the scent of my arousal is thick in the air, and he doesn’t even notice I’m there?

I want to be surprised, but I’m not. I could’ve been fucking Noah on the counter when he walked in and he still probably wouldn’t have noticed.

Leaning over to pick up a sock, I spy a small black box peeking out from behind the lip of the counter. I pick it up, noting its soft, velvety exterior. It’s a jewelry box. For a moment I consider that maybe Dillon has brought me a gift.

No. He hasn’t so much as given you flowers in all the time you’ve been with him. Why would he start now?

I crack open the lid. My heart begins to pound as I realize what I’m holding. Suddenly it’s all beginning to make sense. The perfectly set table, how much trouble he had gone to preparing dinner…how annoyed he was at me for ruining everything.

I slip my hand inside the box and let the ring slide down my finger. The single diamond sparkles back at me, stunning in its beauty. I smile, because I honestly can’t believe this. He was going to propose to her.

The asshole was going to propose, then he took me home and would’ve fucked me on my kitchen counter—if my boyfriend hadn’t come home. Was this the mistake he almost made? Asking Shannon to marry him? It couldn’t be. Men don’t go through all the trouble of buying a ring if they’re not sure, right?

Crawling in bed next to an extremely drunk Dillon, I curl up in a ball, facing away from him. Dillon’s hand comes around my waist, dragging me across the sheets so our bodies are flush. He clumsily drags that same hand down my stomach until he reaches the still-sensitive flesh between my thighs. Forcing his fingers inside me, realization crashes over me.

The way he’s touching me, it’s nothing like the way Noah touches me. My body isn’t even responding to Dillon. I decide to lie there and get this over with instead of backing away. If I don’t, he’ll know something is off and will push me for answers I’m not ready to give.

After a few minutes of what Dillon considers foreplay—enough to get me hot and ready for him—his latex-sheathed cock is pressed against my

center, my leg hitched up over his. Without any further consideration, he pushes inside of me, panting drunk ramblings in my ear.

“I love you…you feel like heaven…so wet and ready for me…” I don’t have the heart to tell him the only reason that I’m wet is because of what happened just a little while ago. I try to block out his voice and replace it with Noah’s, but it’s not working. Noah would fuck me the way I need to be fucked and not just try to get off. I already know this and haven’t even slept with the guy.

Luckily, a few short pumps and Dillon spills into the latex and rolls over. Clutching the blanket around myself, I contemplate getting myself off, but I kill the thought almost immediately. I’ll see Noah again soon and he’ll finish what Dillon can’t.

When did this become about me having an orgasm and not about ruining him for what he did to Karly? Shit, I’m falling for the same stuff she did. Time to refocus and get my head back in the game.

Chapter 16

Noah

Flying out of the parking lot, I’m to the corner, hands still shaking and breathing erratically. Idling at a stop sign, I wait for the minimal traffic to clear before speeding through and pulling to the curb. Throwing the car in park, I’m out the door, pacing the length of my car, scrubbing at my face.

“What the fuck did you do?” I question myself, feeling every bit as confused as I look.

“She’s your student,” I reiterate. “You’re going to lose your fucking job. How the hell am I supposed to tell Shannon?”

I’m fucked. Literally, figuratively, emotionally…any which way you can think of using the word, that’s exactly what I am.

Knowing I can’t go straight home smelling like Zara, I get back in my car and race off toward the gym. Thankfully, they’re still open for an hour. Grabbing my duffel from the backseat, I walk through the door and head straight for the locker room. I quickly change into a pair of gym shorts and a T-shirt.

The treadmill. I see the row as soon as I walk out of the locker room. Running always clears my head. I’ll give myself a half hour of jogging, and when I’m done I hope I’ll have a plan of action.

My feet pound against the rubber belt harder and faster than they ever have before. My earbuds are in, and my phone streams a constant wave of heavy metal. Nothing can drown out everything else like the unknown words of Slipknot. My pace keeps time with the song bleeding into my ears, and everything except my current situation falls to the back of my brain.