Chapter 19
"Alexa. Christ. Let me come in your mouth." Noah's voice calls from above me as his hands pull hard on my hair. "Suck my cock."
I don't need the encouragement. I need an escape from my life. Sucking on Noah's dick was working. There was absolutely no way I could focus on anything but this right now.
"I'm going to shoot down your throat." His voice is deep, heavy and filled with measured desire.
I reach for his heavy balls, pulling them into my palm, kneading them as I suck heartily on the head of his dick. "Come," I whisper around the heavy root. Come so you can pound the memory of Brighton Beck right out of my body.
He rewards me with a burst of hot desire that lands right at the back of my tongue. I pull him out slowly, knowing from experience that with a man this big, it's going to be much more than I can handle in one swallow. I'm right. He pumps into me, over and over again, the thick hot stream pouring down my throat.
"Give me five minutes and I'll make you come." He leans back onto the mattress now as I still rest on my knees on the floor at the edge of his bed. "I have to catch my breath. F*ck, you suck cock better than…" he catches himself before anything else pops out of his mouth.
The almost comparison to another woman tears right through me. I rest my forehead against the sheet to temper my emotions. This isn't heavy. It's not serious. Don't take the shit he says to heart, Alexa. Don't let Brighton's a*shole cheating ways ruin this for you.
"Alexa." Noah's voice cuts through my thoughts. "Look at me."
My head pops up and the end of the camera lens greets me. I hear the light tap of the shutter as he captures a steady stream of images of my face. "Noah," I whisper in mild protest.
"I'm going to say something to you…" he begins before he stops himself. "No." He pulls on my hands as a silent request to join him on the bed. I acquiesce and crawl into his lap, his cock resting heavily on the sheet between his open legs.
"What?" I trail a path along the large tattoo on his shoulder with my finger. I study all his tattoos each and every time I set eyes on him but whenever I've asked what each design represents, he changes the subject. It's obvious that the art that adorns his body is personal, too personal to share with me.
"We're done today." The words are clipped, direct and final.
"I know." I look in the eyes, wondering if he feels the same sense of loss that I do knowing that I don’t have a reason to come back to his apartment after today.
His hands circle my body pulling me closer to him. "The work part is done," he clarifies. "The us part…do you want that to be done?"
Is he honestly asking me if I want to give him up? "You don't want it to be done?" I hadn't considered that anything between us would last beyond our photo sessions. I was a temporary distraction in his life and he was the same to me. It started out that way at least. Has it changed?
"Something happened." He sits up straighter adjusting my weight in his lap. "You know I use an agency to find women to find, right?"
It's a raw confession that doesn't shock me at all. I do know that. I assume that he has on the number on speed dial and that he requests the company of women on a very regular basis. I don't have any ridiculous fantasy that he'd ever come out of his structured, very safe cocoon for me or anyone else for that matter.
"Women with fake accents," I correct him as I glide my hand to the tattoo on his chest.
"I called for one a few days ago."
My stomach drops into free fall mode even though I know that it's his reality. Why is there a hint of pain attached to the words when they come out of his mouth? Why does the confirmation of it hold more meaning than just the abstract knowledge of it?
"I couldn't f*ck her." The chuckle that skirts the statement vibrates through his chest and into my body. "I actually told her that I needed to call her Alexa."
"You what?" I stifle my own giggle at the thought of him suggesting that to any woman.
"I was aching for you." I feel his cock spring to life beneath me. "It was the day after I f*cked you. I thought if I f*cked another woman, I'd wash it all away."
"Wash what away?" I know the answer. Ironically, it's exactly what I've been trying to do with Brighton.
"The need to have it again." His hand runs over my thigh and dives between my legs. "This again."
"You want to f*ck me again?" I slide deeper into his embrace.
"And again and again." His lips skirt over my bare shoulder. "I'm not going to stop f*cking you. I promise you that."
It was a promise that I was counting on. Maybe Noah Foster wasn't my rebound f*ck. Maybe he was where I was supposed to be all along.