I’m still trembling, breath caught somewhere between disbelief and raw need. My body feels flushed, slick, and utterly spent—but I’m not done. Not even close.
Because now, all I can think about is him inside me.
I want to know how it feels. The stretch. The fullness. The weight of his body pressing into mine. I want to feel every slow inch, every shuddering thrust. I want to know what it's like when it's Noah—only Noah.
I lift my head and find him watching me like he already knows.
"Come here," I whisper.
His expression shifts—heat, something quiet and awestruck—before he crawls up against me, like he can’t stay away any longer.
He pulls me up towards him and kiss me. "You were amazing, June."
I glance down at the jeans still clinging to his hips and raise an eyebrow. “Strip down, F1 champ.”
He huffs a laugh, one brow arching in amusement, but before he can say anything, I’m already reaching into my bag, pulling out not one, but multiple boxes like a flustered little overachiever.
“I brought options,” I say, spreading them out across the desk like I’m about to pitch him a product line. "Ribbed, ultra-thin, temperature-sensitive, textured, extra-lubricated."
Noah’s eyes flick down, then back up—gleaming with amusement, his laughter low and wicked in his chest. “Planning a full test drive?”
He shakes his head, grinning. “You’re making me feel like I should be double-bagging.”
I giggle at the thought. “Try one first. If it doesn’t hold, I’ve got backups.”
Then I pause. Let my voice drop.
“But first, let me see you.”
His eyes flash at my curiosity. “Yes, ma’am.”
He pulls down his jeans in one smooth move, and my breath catches at the sight of him—hard, thick, flushed, and visibly pulsing with anticipation. My mouth goes dry all over again.
Noah grins. “I brought my own stash, but now I’m curious... which one are we trying first?”
I hand him the ultra-thin one, but just as he tears the foil open, I place a hand on his wrist.
"Wait," I say, breathless. "I’m not done… I mean, I want to see you. All of you. I want to… take you in first."
His eyes flare with something between heat and surprise, but he pauses, lowering the condom for a beat.
Then he steps closer, and oh. My breath catches.
He’s huge.
Thick and flushed, the tip already glistening. Veins ripple along the shaft, prominent and pulsing, and my hands move before I can stop. I wrap my fingers around the base—slowly, carefully—and feel the heat of him.
He’shot.Like literally. And I wasn’t expecting that.
And he’s hard, yes—but not rigid. I test it, curiosity winning out. My fingers press a little, trying to bend him—just to see.
He groans, head tipping back, and I immediately let go like it’s a hot potato. “Did I hurt you?”
He laughs, low and rough. Catches my wrists and brings my hands back to him, guiding them over the length with slow, deliberate control. I am mesmerized.
“Go ahead, Songbird,” his voice dips playfully. “Explore. Chart the uncharted. Map the terrain. Discover your own personal Mount Everest.”
My voice is barely a whisper. “You’re even bigger than I imagined.”