Page 58 of Small Town Boy

Noel slowly pulls back from the kiss, lingering the same way he did on the ascent, letting both my brain and my lungs catch up. Not an easy task, I assure you. Reaching around me, he grabs the duffle and pulls out a charcoal hoodie.

I take it from him, holding it up so I can sniff it. Sure enough, it smells like him. Musky, manly, and more than enough to fuel the fire that he’s starting in me. Reaching for the hem of my shirt, I watch as Noel turns away, ever the gentleman. Even in the dark.

Or so I think.

Whipping the shirt over my head, I look up to find him sneaking a glance. No, not sneaking. He’s full-on watching out of the corner of his eye. He’s making quick work of stripping out of his own clothes, boots and shirt already off, jeans unbuttoned and halfway down his thighs.

Oh yeah, I like what I see…

Moonlight dances across his bare skin, the water droplets running down his chest just begging to be licked off. His broad, muscular frame is a thing of beauty, and my fingers ache to explore it. To trace along each ridge, dipping into the valleys of the six-pack I would bet anything he’s sporting, getting lost in each one.

Noel turns toward me, proving me wrong. That’s not a six-pack. It’s an eight. Maybe even ten. It’s hard to tell in the dark. But either way, he looks like some Renaissance artist chiseled him right out of a block of granite. My mouth waters, my pulse stuttering, even my lady bits perking up at getting in on the action at such a glorious vision.

All that playing in the dirt has served him well.

He catches me staring and gives me a wink. Oh shit, if that didn’t just throw gas on the fire. The flutter that was in my tummy moves south, spreading between my legs. I can feel myself growing wet, and not because I’m still in pond-water-drenched pants. Because Noel looks good enough to eat in nothing but his boxer briefs.

“Need help with those jeans?” he asks, voice low and gravelly.

Oh shit. He keeps talking in that tone and I might come just from that.

I nod, unable to do much else. He stalks toward me, looking at me like a lion looks at its prey. I’ll happily be antelope in this situation if it means his hands on me. Or his mouth. Definitely his mouth.

Every inch of me is calling his name, ready and willing for whatever it is he’s going to do. As long as he keeps making me feel like this.

“You should put on that hoodie…don’t want you catching cold…”

As if on commend, my nipples pebble at the word cold and I shiver. Noel runs his finger over one, then the other, lightly circling the taut nubs. Lightning shoots straight to my core. Oh fuck. I want more. These light, teasing touches are only going to drive me crazy.

Then again, that’s probably his point.

I do as he says, climbing into the oversized hoodie as his hands find the button of my pants, flicking it open. The denim is stiff and heavy thanks to all the extra weight, but Noel has no problems handling it. The fabric seems to bend to his command, inching over my hips and down my legs. Noel squats down, taking care of one leg, then the other. Looking up at me, devilish grin from one ear to the other, he licks his lips.

“Sure do like the view from down here.”

“Not sure how much of a view it is,” I challenge. “Someone made me put on a sweatshirt.”

“Oh, that’s half the view, Honey. Looking at you in my gear…fuuuck…” he growls that last word. It’s enough to make my core clench, the rest of me flushing with heat. “Not to mention, I won’t turn down another taste of your sweet pussy.”

I gasp. Apparently that dirty talker the other night wasn’t an isolated incident. He’s so sweet and gentle so much of the time—always reminding me he’s a gentleman—that I never would have seen this side of him coming.

Noel pushes the front of the hoodie up just enough to give him the access he needs. Not bothering to push my panties aside, he drags his tongue along my center. The friction of his movements plus the fabric is almost too much. Yet, still not enough. I need more. I need him. All of him.

“Noel…”

He pulls back, popping back up to his normal height, towering over me.

“As much as I want to feast on you, this isn’t the place. Too many things I want to do to you after my mouth gets its fill.”

I start to respond but can’t. Even if I could form the words, he’s sucked all the air right out of me. So I nod, letting him know that I want that too.

“Good.”

That’s all he says, scooping me up and opening up the truck door. He deposits me on the bench seat and slams the door. In what seems like five seconds flat, he’s gathered our clothes, tossed them in the truck bed, and has himself behind the wheel and the motor running. Throwing it in gear, he hits the gas, the truck lurching forward so quickly I’m thrown back against the seat. He reaches out an arm to hold me in place.

At least that’s what it does at first.

Once we’re on the road, his hand travels south, up under the hoodie and into my panties. His finger finds my clit almost immediately, and I cry out.