AN/ Thank you for 500K reads! Here's ch13 in Noah's POV as an extra thank you <3
Noah's POV
"If you're looking for a loophole, he is most definitely my brother."
Don't I fucking know it.
I'm being driven fucking insane. My mind has actually turned to mashed potato, or someone's gone into my skull with a blender and just gone to town, because this isn't right.
I can't think about anything else. I can't sleep. I can't stop fucking touching her whenever she's in the same room as me.
Every thought I have now relates to Matthew Grayson's sister. His younger, attractive sister with forest green bedroom eyes that could send a man to his early grave. I've broken nearly all of my rules: I've flirted with her, I've gone out of my way for her, I didn't stop myself from looking down her shirt or watching her ass when she bent over in front of me.
And she knows too.
If you're looking for a loophole...
Of course I'm looking for a loophole. I'm also looking to stop myself from going insane whenever her thigh presses against mine or she lets me dig my fingers into her waist. So far I haven't been able to stop myself.
I strip off my shirt and collapse back into the sheets on my bed.
Madelaine.
Perfect name. Perfect green eyes. Perfect fucking girl.
So perfect that she's like a virus in my bloodstream, and her brother is going to saw off my balls with a butter knife. Before she moved in, I got the talk. She's pretty, but don't even fucking think about it.
I didn't think I would have to think about it. For three years I've done a brilliant job not thinking about anyone, not after she-who-shall-not-be-named. Bile rises up my throat just thinking about the six years I wasted following her around like a lost puppy.
Matt asking me to stay away was comical. Laugh out loud funny as soon as the words left his mouth, and he knew it too.
Not anymore.
Pretty was quite the fucking understatement, actually. Now if he'd said leggy, or curvy in all the right places, or blessed with pink pouty lips you'll want wrapped around you for days, his description would've been more accurate. I might've prepared myself better.
I swallow the excess liquid gathered in my mouth, still picturing those lovely green eyes in my car last night, blinking up at me before she'd blushed and stormed away when I teased her.
I'm breaking.
I know I am, because just thinking about her, about her soft voice and her smooth skin and her inability to stop staring, I'm getting hard.
I'm thinking about the way her jaw went slack when I turned around with a hard-on she caused and showed her exactly what she does to me. About the way her pupils dilated, covering that lovely green with a black as deep as the night sky.
Those lips were at the forefront of my mind at the time, just as they are now.
That attitude too.
Fiery and forward and so fucking hot when she outwardly comes onto me like she doesn't care that her brother might throw a fit and cut off my balls.
The mattress shifts under my weight as I squirm on it, pulling my cock out of my shorts like it'll give me any sort of release. As if straining against them wasn't bad enough, I'm still thinking about my best friend's sister when pre-cum dribbles from the tip of it.
Done nothing but think of her.
If I see her tonight without getting off, I'll explode.
I'll fuck her in front of everyone in Sara's house, brother or no brother.
That thought alone is insane. I'm not the type of guy to do one night stands, which is why I can't fuck her, can't even think about it. (It's all I think about.) If I have her once, I'll have her again and again. I'll never let her go.
Still, as I wrap my hand around myself, I'm thinking about her smile. Her long, smooth legs. The feeling of her body against my fingers whenever I pull her into me. Her breath on my mouth, hot and ready and pleading.
My body needs her. I need to feel her writhe against me, see those bright eyes wide and needy and wanting as I tease her into thinking that I will.
She wants me. But I want her so fucking more.
There's not a chance I'll last, not while I'm thinking about her. Not while I know I'm going to see her tonight all dressed up again, in her soft makeup and her pretty, sultry clothes. My dick is so hard in my hand that I'm surprised I don't come every time I stroke upwards, gritting my teeth so that I don't do something stupid like grab my phone to look at a picture of her.
I'm thinking about her sinking into the passenger seat of my car, moaning, when my phone begins ringing.
"Fuck," falls from my mouth, hissed.
Of course it's her. Why wouldn't it be her? Why wouldn't life just be this cruel?
I'm the most pathetic man in the world when I reach over, cock still angrily hard against my stomach, and press answer, holding the phone to my ear.
"You alright?" I ask, voice rough. Like I've been jacking off.
I try to subtly clear my throat, eyes on anything but my own erection. Forcing myself not to touch, not while I'm on the phone to her, not while she isn't here to tell me how stupid I'm being.
Matt is her brother.
"We're going out for dinner," she says, voice airy and bright. High and pretty, like a soft pop song you can't get out of your head. My cock pulses.
"You and me?" I breathe. "I think a certain someone might disapprove."
I continue to flirt with her, to tease her, to speak in a way I know makes her legs press together just because I can. Because I can picture it in my head. Because my brain is filled with nothing but dirty pictures of my best friend's sister reacting to me in a way that drives me fucking insane.
She tells me to hurry up and I ask if she wants me there that badly.
Are you as desperate as I am?
Are you waiting for me to leave the house so you can touch yourself to thoughts of me, as well?
I'm lucky that I don't ask her outright.
She hangs up and I'm still rock-fucking-solid.
More so than before.
My eyes roll to the ceiling, my hand returns to squeeze the base of my cock, and the guilt doesn't leave my head as I think of nothing but her voice while I finish myself off.
•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•
I should've stayed at home.
Three years ago when I met Matt, I should've spat in his face and laughed. I shouldn't have let him buy me a drink, and I certainly shouldn't have taken him up on that offer for a free spare room.
He saw someone worth saving.
Damien Mierro had ruined my life and Matt didn't blink twice at the asshole it had turned me into. His happy-go-lucky attitude rubbed off on me over the months, but in those early days, the days when I would've broken someone's fingers for looking at me the wrong way, Matt looked past the bad because he saw beneath the tough exterior.
I'd always been grateful, always.
But now I'm not so sure.
Matt's friend - usually I'd call him my friend too - has his fucking arm linked through hers. The familiar fury of my teenage years flows through my veins, makes my hands clench underneath the table. I force myself to laugh at a joke Sara is telling, keeping Dan in my peripheral vision.
My blood is boiling hot. It shouldn't be, because I shouldn't even be here. I should be in a gutter somewhere, puking my guts up or lying dead behind an abandoned building, drugged up out of my mind.
Jealously is unfamiliar territory, but I don't think it should feel this murderous.
He speaks into her ear and I almost stand up and cut out his tongue. But then I see her, actually see her, for the first time.
Madelaine isn't even looking at my face. She's looking at the few buttons I haven't done up at the top of my shirt, at the tattoos on my chest underneath. She takes a deep breath as she looks up to meet my eyes and I swear that my body jolts with need.
Getting off once was not enough.
When she steps forward her leg falls out of a long slit in the deep emerald dress she's poured her body into, the slit practically to the very top of her thigh. I feel my heartbeat pulsing in my neck. My cocks jerks, again.
Fuck Matt.
For a small, horrible second, I want him to drop dead at this table.
I want to tell him to fuck off and twist the restaurant staff until they kick out every last customer in here, until all I'm left with is this tall, lovely girl who can't seem to keep her eyes to herself.
Dan pulls out her chair for her like he's her fucking boyfriend.
When she's distracted, smiling with Sara and Skye for only the briefest of seconds, my neck snaps over to Dan. His eyes widen, the fire in mine only burning brighter. I think about killing him, I thinking about pressing his hands against a hot stove so Madelaine's arms would've been the last thing he ever felt, knowing that I'm being completely insane. Dan looks at the floor and I manage to drag my glare away.
"You look nice," Madelaine says gently, now sat across from me.
Her eyes say anything otherwise. Dilated pupils stare back at me, saying that I definitely should get everyone else kicked out of the restaurant, that she's breaking just as much as I am.
She turns to talk to Skye and Sara again but I can't make myself look away. The heat of her brother's body is next to me, which should remind me that I'm thinking about bending my best friends sister over a table in a public restaurant, but I can't get my head out of the gutter.
I want her mouth on mine, her body pressed against me. Despite getting off about an hour ago, I'm half hard under the table. I need part of her touching me, I need her looking at me. I want her attention.
I stretch out my leg and tap my foot around hers, unable to hide the smirk on my face when her leg wraps around my own.
Matt begins talking about their parents. His mum called him, asked about how Madelaine in settling in. Maybe I should feel a shred of guilt, eye-fucking her while her brother talks about their parents.
I wish I could say fucking her is all I want to do.
When I pick her up after work, when she sinks into the leather seats of my car and smiles softly over at me, asking gently about my day and throwing teasing comments back and forth, I want nothing more than to ask her out. Introduce her to my parents, who would adore her if given half the chance.
It would be easier if it was only lust. I've gone three years without having sex and I'd go thirty more just to avoid the complications that come with it - to avoid the disappointing nights and the awkward mornings that follow. Matt can't seem to get enough of them. Sleeping with the same person for the rest of his life gives him hives, but I've always felt the opposite.
What? Madelaine mouths.
I realise I've been staring. She kicks me when I say nothing, trying to suppress her own smile. The others, sat around us, seem distracted enough.
"You're being a little creepy."
"You stare all the time," I respond. "What was it you said in that voicemail on Friday night? That I'm..."
Porn-worthy, if I recall her words correctly.
Of course I do. I've listed to that voicemail near twenty times. I've tried my best not to use it as fucking wank material.
Sorry I called you hot. But not really, because you are. Porn-worthy.
It dawns on me suddenly. The doe look that skims across her features and settles into her eyes like twinkling stars. She has no fucking idea what I'm talking about - so drunk that she's forgotten what she said.
"You don't remember, do you?"
She shakes her head, leg twitching around mine. My cock twitches in response.
I at least have the decency to check Matt isn't look at the two of us because I scan her up and down once more, lingering on all the exposed skin, on the red of her lips and the way they suddenly part for me.
Porn-worthy.
If I don't walk away now...
"I'm heading to the bathroom before the food comes," I announce, seeing nothing but Madelaine's lips behind my eyes as I quickly stand up and move away from her as quickly as possible.
So fucked. So, so fucked.
Matt is going to kill me.
Can't get her out of my thoughts, can't get far away enough from her to collect myself. I think about calling her at work, I think about sneaking downstairs to where she sleeps every night. Fuck, I count down the hours until I'm alone with her again.
It's getting out of hand.
I push past a curtain and make a bee-line for the bathroom door.
I'm also inside when her hand grabs mine. I know it's her, because my body burns suddenly. My skin tingles, my cock jerks, and I know that the last ounce of self control I have is dangling by a thread.
She pulls me towards her and I can't stop my arms from reaching around to hold her by the waist.
"What're you doing?" I ask, like I'm not the one touching her. Like I didn't want her to follow me the second I stood from the table.
She glances around as if looking for a dark place to corner me in, to hide us from the world, and like a lap dog, I follow her gaze, my heart beating out of my chest at the prospect of putting my hand up this pretty green dress.
The curtain concealing the bathrooms moves.
Without missing a beat I lead her down further down the corridor, towards a staff door that looks sparsely used. A man walks into the bathroom and it could be anyone, because I don't drag my gaze away from her. If anything, I sink further into her body, pressing her against the wall and caging her in with my own.
"What are you doing?" I ask.
The question is not for her.
"I don't know," she says anyway. "You owe me something embarrassing."
Owe me.
I almost sink to my fucking knees.
I allow myself to think about it for a few seconds. Dropping down her body and pushing that satin fabric up her legs, burying myself in her core. The sounds she would make...
My hands clench. I'm hard as a rock, keeping my hips back so I don't press it between her legs where it belongs.
Her touches dances along my skin, at my fingers, up my arms, squeezing my biceps.
The wave of jealously that surges through my body when another man walks through the curtain is enough to send murder into my thoughts. I press my body entirely against hers, shielding her, feeling my soul leave my body as my cock presses against her. He doesn't look over. If he did, I might've actually fucking killed him.
I'm a desperate man as I pull her hips towards me and feel her gasp against my neck.
"This can't be your embarrassing thing twice," she teases, voice dripping with arousal. I kick apart her legs as she claws at my arms to pull me closer. My hand shakes as I press it against her thigh.
Matt's somewhere, lurking in the back of my mind, stopping me from doing everything I want to do. From pulling up her dress or kissing along her collarbones.
It's not enough.
If something does end this, I'm taking her. Here and now, in this dimly lit hallway.
"I have no self-control," I force myself to whisper against her ear, allowing her the choice to pull away. I'm too far gone. "That's my embarrassing thing. You're going to have to end this, because Matt could walk past any second and I still wouldn't take my hands off you."
Her only response is pushing my hand further up her thigh.
Up, up, up. Until my finger brushes against the top of the slit on her dress, sat just below her hip. So close to touching her, to sinking a finger into her wetness. My hand twitches.
The horny fog that's overtaken me turns into a blazing fire as my finger brushes against her underwear - a fucking thong - and I twist it around my fingers, squeezing it so tightly that it'll cut off circulation. It's the only thing stopping me from ripping it off.
She moans as I press myself against her.
"Tell me something else."
"I'm insanely attracted to you," I admit, because it's obvious. Because if we don't talk we'll start doing something else. "I've been having trouble keeping my hands to myself."
I pull slightly on the thong, hoping it breaks. Hoping the fabric slips between her folds so it won't be my fault when my hand ends up there, too.
She turns to head so my mouth bumps against her ear.
A draft in the corridor pushes the smell of her perfume up my nose.
The string of self-control snaps.
I press my lips to her ear to ask if she'll let me. If I can move my hand further in the feel the heat of her pussy on my fingers. I almost bite down on her earlobe.
But someone coughs and her body goes rigid.
I can't bring myself to move. I want to press my cock further into her, to hide her face so nobody else can see the way her pupils have dilated for me. I try and take deep breaths next to her ear, to give myself the power to pull away as soon as this interaction ends.
Sara disappears and I pull away.
But she's already mine.
Matt just doesn't know it yet, and he doesn't have a fucking choice in the matter either.