Looking Glass (reposted)

Chapter Thirteen

The next time Noah awoke, there was a tongue in his ear. And a hand on his crotch.

“Mmmm. I thought you would never wake up. Morning, sunshine.” A not-so-sleepy smile lit her face. She tapped his lips.

“Open up.”

When he obliged, she surprised him by popping a Tic Tac in his mouth, then kissing him lightly.

“I love you, Noah, but not your morning breath,” she explained as she nipped his upper lip and spearmint flavor flooded his mouth.

A wave of emotion crashed over Noah. Could he ever hear those words enough? Not about his breath, obviously, but that she loved him. He growled and flipper her over, kissing her with everything he felt.

Deirdre felt the instant that the mood changed from light and playful to intense, and it frightened her. But if there was ever a time to be brave, it was now. She had been on the Greyhound to Nashville when she had come to that conclusion. She was still afraid of Joey and what he might do to Noah and Thomas, but she couldn’t bring herself to run anymore. She had gotten off at the next stop and called a taxi. And it had felt so right to come home.

So she kissed him back, ran her hands over his back. His own hands trembled at her face with the force of what he was feeling. His eyes drank her in while she struggled to pull her t-shirt over her head. She hadn’t bothered to change into pajamas, he noted. Instead of her usual sports bra, she wore a pretty scrap of lime green cotton edged with yellow lace. He traced the edge of it with one hand and caressed her bottom with the other. She had the most perfect ass, he decided: firm, but round enough to make a full handful. She shuddered and dug her fingers into his back as he brushed that spot where her butt met her thigh.

His mouth trailed to her throat and gently sucked. She had never been able to figure out why exactly it should feel so good to have her blood drawn to the surface of her flesh, but wasn’t about to question it now. He would leave a hickey, she knew, and reveled in it. Everyone could know she was his, that she had allowed him to brand her. She smiled into his hair. Feeling it, he glanced up at her.

“What?” he asked, unable to hold back a smile of his own.

“Nothing. I love you.”

His grin grew wider. “Doesn’t sound like nothing to me.” He kissed her again on the mouth to show his approval.

His hands drifted to her thighs, massaging the backs of them. Deirdre gasped with pleasure and wondered if her heart could burst, it was beating so fast. Maybe it was because she couldn’t seem to draw enough air into her lungs; her breaths came in short, hard pants. Well, if she couldn’t breathe properly, she was damned if she was going to let him. She dragged her fingernails over the inside of his arms and watched his eyes go blurry.

“Shit, Deirdre, don’t stop,” he managed. She rolled them over again so that she was on top and forced his arms above his head. Holding his hands in place with one hand, she kissed him hard.

“Don’t move,” she warned lightly, then set her lips to the inside of his elbow. His breath hissed through his teeth as he resisted the urge to run his fingers through her short, soft hair. She was just far enough above him, though, that her breasts were just within reach of his mouth. He took advantage of her placement, marveling at how quickly she reacted: her nipple puckering through the cotton even as she bit him in punishment.

“Now, now, that wasn’t part of the rules,” she said, shaking her head as she sat up, straddling him. “Naughty boy. Now, what should your punishment be?”

Noah’s eyes brightened. She smacked him on the chest in mock outrage, but couldn’t withhold a smile.

“You know,” she said thoughtfully, “Whatserface in Pride and Prejudice said that teasing would make a good punishment for Mr. Darcy. Of course, she meant verbally, but I think, with a little modification, it’s a pretty good idea.” She brushed the hair on his chest, just enough to tickle. Noah tried not to choke.

“You remember Mr. Darcy’s name, but not hers?” he asked breathlessly, referring to the heroine in Jane Austin’s novel. Actually, in his distracted state, he couldn’t remember her name either, but he felt obligated to say something.

“Mmm, yeah,” she murmured after blowing lightly across his nipple, causing him to grimace with pleasure and the effort to keep his hands still.

She continued, “What can I say? He’s pretty sexy.” She dragged down Noah’s boxers and threw them carelessly behind her.

Noah wanted to protest, but refrained, afraid she would think he was protesting her removal of his clothing. Which he most certainly wasn’t. He settled for glaring at her.

Deirdre just shrugged. “Yeah, I know. Mr. Rochester, Mr. Darcy, you...I admit it. I’m totally attracted to men who act like asses.” She smiled impishly as she drew a finger along his length.

He really couldn’t let that one go unprotested. “Hey! Not nice!”

She looked at him from beneath her lashes. He knew that innocent look always meant trouble.

“What’s not nice? This?” And she closed her mouth over him.

Hot mouth. Warm breath. Her fingers playing with the hair on his legs. And—dear lord—her gaze still locked with his.

“Fuck!” he choked out weakly. He stood it as long as he could. Then, “Deirdre! Fuck, Deirdre! Please, please—now!”

And suddenly, she was rising above him, her panties held to one side, and descending upon him. He could have wept when she took him inside her. Throwing her rules to the wind, he laced his fingers with hers, and settled in for the ride.


Much later, as they lay cuddling in the aftermath, he breathed into her hair, “Don’t leave me again.”

“Never,” she promised. She felt an uncomfortable tickling in her throat, but was determined not to cry. To divert his attention from her swimming eyes, she asked if he had eaten all of her pizza. She definitely could not go another round without fuel.