Hard Pass (Trophy Boyfriends 1)

Oh, that.

Yes. Yes it does.

Noah’s brown eyes get darker the longer he looks down at me, pupils dilating, nostrils flaring a little.

I recognize that look: he is turned on.

My breath hastens more when his hand takes a leisurely trip down the column of my neck, brushing the hair back, thumb playing with the underside of my earlobe.

Down over the curve between my neck and shoulder, palm flattening, fingers skimming lightly over my collarbone—one of my favorite erogenous zones.

I barely resist a moan.

Noah falters, his attention drawn to the open part of my dress, where my breasts are pushed up by a black, lacy bra. To urge him on, I reach up and rake an entire hand of fingers through his hair, nails grazing his scalp.

He gets the message loud and clear, the rough palm of his hand slowly dragging across the exposed part of my skin, sending a ripple through my body and causing goose bumps to arise. My nipples pucker and he notices, giving them the attention they want, tip of his index finger tracing round and round over the fabric of my dress.

Then.

He draws that fabric back, hand caressing the lace bra. Thumb stroking the plumped-up mound I hadn’t realized was so sensitive to the touch.

This time, that moan escapes on a sigh. Relief. Pleasure.

God, I love having my boobs played with and it’s been too long—way too long. I love it. I. love. it.

“So pretty,” he’s murmuring again, leaning in, pushing back the bra, mouth latching onto my nipple and my hands now fully buried in this thick hair, wanting him to stay this way forever and give me all the ’gasms.

Sue me for being lazy and wanting to just lie here, but c’mon!

Noah sucks, his tongue pure magic. So magical I swear, if he sucks my nipple long enough, I may end up coming. No lie. It feels that amazing or I’m that easy—does it even matter?

No.

All that matters is this boy.

He does not miss a beat, suckling at the same time his hands go to the little knotted belt at my waist, tugging hard enough to release the loop. Big, warm, calloused hand roaming over my stomach, down to the waistband of the granny panties I wore so I wouldn’t have sex with him on the first date.

So much for that dumb idea.

“Cute.” I feel him smile, lips and hands all over my body.

My knees spread at the welcome intrusion, already weakened. I am wanton.

He makes me feel sexy, the way he’s gazing up at me, as if I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on, and isn’t that the way it’s supposed to be when you find someone you think might…

I stop my mind from wandering, so I can stay in the moment. So I can feel his hands and mouth and tongue.

Lips kiss my pelvis.

Lips kiss along the waistband of my Hanes.

Oh yeah.

Praise be! Yes! Don’t stop.

He moves over me, in between my legs, positioned to pleasure, wide shoulders inching my thighs apart. I moan with anticipation, then moan again when his warm breath hits the valley I desperately want him exploring. Hot. Warm. Breath.

Hot. Wet. Pussy.

My head thrashes on the floor, fingers clenching the carpet, pulling, then reaching for his hair. Gently tugging.

Noah buries his face. Licks my panties, so they’re good and wet. Tugs on them. Pulls. Creates a friction so delicious I groan out loud and pant his name, throw a little Jesus into the mix along with it.

“Oh lord, Noah.” Oh god.

I’m not sure what to do with myself, not having done this in who knows how long—porn does not count. Watching a man go down on a woman is not like having a man’s head between one’s legs, the feel of his body keeping your legs spread apart. The soft hair on his head as you grip it, muttering and praying to the heavens above.

“Thank you, Lord,” I mouth to the ceiling, convinced once and for all that the stars are aligning and good luck is on my side.

First the city approving my business plan. Then the landlord accepting my application to rent the office space. Noah buying my cards, so I have the money to pay my rent, to hire an architect and a social media/bookkeeper/office manager person.

Why am I thinking about work when his tongue is—

“Oh! Yes…” Keep doing that. That, right there.

Noah goes at me hard, mouth working my clit through the thin fabric of my panties, something I’ve only fantasized about. It feels so frigging good—so sexy.

I leverage my body up a bit, resting on my elbows so I can get a view of his blond head, face buried, eyes closed.

My head tips back but I stay elevated, wanting to enjoy the show. It turns me on more to see him going down on me, even with these half-hooded eyes of mine.