Page 95 of The One Night Dash
I don’t. I can’t. I pump my fingers faster, harder, deeper. When she comes, it’s not quiet at all. She throws her head back, shouts my name, and it’s the most beautiful fucking thing I’ve ever heard.
Panting, she pushes her hand down my boxers and grabs my dick, her brown, lust-hazed eyes widening, and she snaps to attention. “Your?—”
She says, “huge,” and I say, “pierced,” at the same time.
Her eyes widen even further as she strokes her thumb across my head, and my fucking knees buckle.
While already a few inches lower, I grab my track pants and pull out a condom. “You on birth control?”
She nods, but she’s not looking at me—she’s looking at my cock.
“Never gone without, but at some point, would love to feel you with nothing?—”
She looks up now, thumb still stroking my tip. Then she takes the condom and throws it. “All right then.”
She hitches her leg and drags my dick across her opening, and I nearly fucking lose it.
I lift her up, and she digs her heels into me.
“Don’t you …” Her eyes roll, and I press into her hot little opening and pause, revering this moment, the seconds before I’m finally inside her. “Don’t hold back.”
Her heels dig into me, driving us together, and I thrust hard enough to rattle the shelves. A whole row of hardcovers crashes to the floor, and we both freeze, and then laugh, waiting for what? I don’t know. More to fall? They don’t. It’s just us, suspended in the wreckage of every book I never read but will, with her, and every poem I ever made fun of.
She kisses me again, messier now, biting my lip, and we move together in this wild, uncoordinated rhythm, like two people who don’t care about anything else but each other’s needs.
I don’t last as long as I’d like, but I get her there first, of course, and then I follow her. The rush of it is almost painful, and for a second, I can’t breathe, can’t think, just cling to her like she’s everything. Reality is, she’s that and more.
TWENTY-THREE
NOELLE
My body is still humming. Dash has managed to put a pair of boxers back on me, my legs still jelly, and my insides are experiencing aftershocks.
“We still need that chat.”
Smiling, he pulls on his boxers and pops a kiss on my lips. “We have all night, but first, you need to reach out to your girls.”
And that’s when the bookstore’s bells jingle.
“Oh God,” I whisper, shoving my tank top down over my belly, breath still ragged. Dash is in nothing but his boxers, shirt left … somewhere, hair damp with sweat, chest heaving like he just came off the ice. We’re surrounded by fallen stacks of books, a whole guilty scene painted loud as day.
And then … voices.
“Noelle!” Nalani’s voice rings out, sing-song and way too gleeful. “You havegotto open the damn group chat before Claudia will spill her tea.”
Sofie’s laugh echoes behind her. “She wouldn’t say a word, so we dragged her here. Told her we weren’t leaving until you explained yourself.”
I freeze, horror spiking through me. “Oh my God.”
The words have barely left my lips when they round the corner—Nalani, Sofie, and Claudia in tow.
And, of course, my girls don’t miss a beat.
Nalani stops dead, eyes widening before a grin splits across her face. “Well, well, well …” she purrs. “Look at you, Miss Bookstore Fantasy.”
Sofie lets out a low whistle, arms crossing, smirk downright wicked. “I knew you two had sparks, but damn, Nono,this? This is a full-on inferno.”
Heat slams into my face so hard I might combust on the spot. I yank the hem of my tank down like that’s going to cover me, or the pile of toppled romance novels framing me like a neon sign. “You could’ve knocked!” I squeak.
