Good Girl Page 39

“I had a snack,” I whisper.

He pulls back to look at me. “Is that Jenny Dawson’s way of telling me she’s ready for me to fuck her?”

My core throbs at the rough words. What is he doing to me? How?

I nod, and his eyes turn molten before he eases closer once more. This time when his hands wrap around my hips it’s to yank me forward, pulling me off the railing until my bare feet touch the porch.

“Not going to ravish me out here?” I ask, unsure if I’m relieved or disappointed.

“Ever have a mosquito bite on your ass, princess?”

An excellent point.

Noah takes my hand and pulls me toward the back door, giving a sharp single whistle for the dogs to follow.

They beat us inside, immediately heading for the stairs in a clatter of claws on hardwood.

Noah halts. “They’re going to your room?”

I shrug. “They’re smart enough to know where the AC is. We could kick them out.”

“We could,” he says, turning toward me, his expression speculative. “Or…”

Noah moves closer to me, crowding my space until I’m forced to walk backward. “What are you—”

My butt hits the back of the kitchen table, a huge, ancient thing that I’ve been mostly using to store spare dishes.

Dishes that go crashing to the floor when he roughly shoves me onto the table.

Our hands are everywhere. I tear at his shirt as he roughly kneads my ass, dropping his mouth to my neck, sucking my skin into his mouth and tugging.

I cry out in pleasure and the realization that I’ll most definitely have a hickey tomorrow. I practically purr at the thought of being marked by him.

Noah slams his palms on the table on either side of my hips, pulling back to glance down my body, lingering on the fullness of my bra-less breasts, then lower to where the dress is bunched up around my crotch.

I reach out, boldly stroking the bulge beneath his shorts, and his breathing gets even more harsh.

“Why do you smell so good?” he murmurs, pulling my hand away and leaning forward to drag his mouth along my exposed collarbone.

“My bath bubbles?”

“No. It’s you.”

His hands are sliding over my upper thighs, his thumbs ever closer to where I’m hot with want for him.

I gasp a little as his thumbs find the edge of my panties, slipping just barely under before sliding away again. “You remembering the other night? How much you liked my hand here?”

He drags his fingers over me, lightly enough to tease, but there enough to torment, and I whimper. “Noah.”


His voice is husky.

“Please,” I whisper.

“Like this?”

I hiss, my hands lifting to his shoulders, nails clawing into his firm flesh as he slides his finger over me, slow and sexy.

My hips tilt toward his hand and he roughly hikes my skirt up all the way, resting his forehead on my shoulder as he watches his hand against me.

I’m panting now, so close, and we’ve barely gotten started.

He hooks his fingers into the sides of my panties, pulling them over my bare legs before tossing them aside.

His eyes flick up to mine as he slowly rubs his hands along the backs of my calves, slowly, teasingly, until his hands find the backs of my knees, lifting until my heels rest on the table.

Noah’s eyes never leave mine as he slowly eases my dress up again, his palms on my inner thighs, slowly spreading me open.

A little bit of reality trickles in around the need, and I instinctively reach down to cover myself, but he catches my hand gently lowering it to the table by my hip, holding it down with his bigger hand as his eyes slide down my body to where I’m wet and open for him.

“Fuuuuuck,” he rasps.

With his free hand, he rubs a finger along my seam, and I arch.

“Jesus, princess. Why can’t I get enough of this? Of you?”

“You’ve only had it once,” I manage, my voice sounding nothing like what I’m used to.

He smiles at that. “Excellent point. A problem I intend to remedy.”

His fingers play over me as he dips his head and presses his mouth to the inside of my knee.

Panic seizes me as I realize where he’s headed. I tug my hand free, tangling my fingers in his hair as I try to sit up.

He settles me with a hand against my belly, but his gaze is questioning.

I shake my head, a little frantic. “Please don’t do…that.”

His eyes narrow slightly as his tongue touches his lower lip. “I want to taste you.”

My thighs tighten, but I shake my head even more frantically. “I don’t want that.”

“Bullshit,” he whispers, his thumb nudging my clit and rotating it in a slow circle.

I cry out, but I don’t release my grip on his hair. I’m not about to tell him that no one’s ever gone down on me before, and though I’m intrigued, to say the least…I’m just not ready.

I can’t explain it, and it’s not rational, but there it is.

I move my feet, hooking my legs around his waist and pulling him to me as I sit up, reaching for his shirt.

He studies me for a moment, as though trying to figure out what I’m about, but then he cooperates, reaching one hand around to grab a fistful of shirt at his back, pulling the garment over his head and tossing it aside.

I bite my lip as I run my hands over him, intrigued at the way his eyes close when my nails rake over his nipples.

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