“Noah.” My voice came strangled.
“I know, baby.” He delivered blow after blow, hitting that same perfect spot that stole my breath.
My mouth dropped open, desperate for air. My spine arched high, and my feet scrambled for some sort of hold, but I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t. I cou— I fell over the edge with a primal scream, my lungs filling and emptying through the same sound. I was drowning. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed over me, keeping me under the surface, cut off from oxygen, only for me to come up again with loud cries.
Noah’s pace increased. I was sure he was calling my name, but the waves drowned him out. I held him through the perfect storm. “Esra, I’m about to…” he rasped against my lips. His hand brushed over my cheek, pulling me from my blissful daze just enough to meet his hesitant gaze.
“Yes.” I knew what he was asking, but I couldn’t form more eloquent words to reassure him with. Those three simple letters occupied my every thought. “Yes,” I repeated and closed my mouth over his. “Yes.” I kissed him longer, kissed him again and again as I echoed how much I wanted him, all of him. “Yes. Yes. Yes.” I grasped at his neck and wrapped my legs tighter around his shoulders as he spilled himself inside me, riding out his own waves.
When we stilled, it felt like my body was floating, tingling and limp and warm.
“Fuck, that was…” Noah pressed his forehead against mine, breathing hard.
“Wholeheartedly agree.” My voice came out scratchy. “Wanna go for round two?”
“Woman, I haven’t even pulled out yet.” He chuckled and stole a quick kiss from my lips and leaned back. Onehand lazily roamed down my sternum to my navel while he carefully untangled my legs before shifting out of me. I whimpered at the sudden cold emptiness.
“We may have a problem,” he mumbled, kneeling between my legs.
“It’s okay, I’m on the pill,” I said because I felt the hot trickle of his release that he probably had a prime view of.
“Good to know, but no.” Noah’s fingers trailed over my stomach, tracing patterns to expose my skin under the layer of mud. It took me a moment to recognize the pattern. He was connecting the distance between my freckles, brushing the dirt from them as if he knew exactly where to find each one. “There’s no hot water, remember?”
Cleaning up without running hot water sounded liketorture. Noah didn’t take me to the bathroom though. He sat me on the kitchen counter and brought the tea kettle to boil, then mixed the hot water into a sink full of cold water. Using a dishtowel with little horses printed all over it, he gently brushed the mud off my skin. He started with my face, only to ruin his progress when he leaned in to kiss me, so he let me clean his face, too. His lids fluttered shut under my fingers and I spent more time cleaning him than I actually needed, just to keep touching him.
Bit by bit, he made his way down my body. He peeled me out of the plaid shirt and caressed every inch he cleaned with soft kisses. When the sink looked worse than the skin on my belly, he put the kettle on again and kissed me until he could continue dabbing me down with hot water. The real torture was the fact that he wouldn’t let me touch him back because he was still covered in dirt.
When he got to the space between my thighs, he took out a fresh dishtowel and carefully washed that part of my body, too. He paid every cleaned inch extra attention with his kisses, until I was clutching the edge of the counter for support and moaning his name again.
The comforting haze he wrapped me in drowned out everything else until his touch made it down my calf and he unzipped my boot.
“Wait,” I gasped and pulled my leg away from him.
His brows jumped up, but he didn’t move to grab my boot again.
I could run to the bathroom and take the boots and braces off and stash them somehow. Or I could just say that I had weak ankles. Sounded a bit Victorian but it might work. At least until tomorrow morning, when I’d need painkillers to get out of bed after everything I’d put my body through today.
“I have a thing,” I sighed and watched Noah closely.
“For boots?”
“No,” I laughed, grateful for one last joke before his perception of me changed. “Less kinky, more medical.”
Noah reached for my foot again, and I placed it in his palms. He pulled the boot off and brushed his fingertips over the thick black brace that had been perfectly hidden by the snug leather. “Did you sprain your ankle?”
“No, uhm…” I pulled the socked foot from his grasp and replaced it with the other one. Noah took that boot off, too, and tilted his head when he found another brace underneath. “Remember how I said that I had a lot of inside time as a kid and that I grew up bubble-wrapped? That was slightly more literal than metaphorical. I constantlygot badly hurt as a kid and even had some surgeries you usually don’t need until you’re middle-aged, and they couldn’t figure out what was wrong with me for a while, but uhm… I basically have weak tissues. Like, the protective lining that’s keeping my body held together isn’t great at doing its job. For me, it’s mostly my joints, so I kindabubble-wrapthem when I need to. Hypermobility means I’m super bendy though. So prepare for some mind-blowing sex.” I grimaced after adding that last part. I’d never done this, and I was making it so awkward.
Noah stayed quiet for a moment, processing, thumb still circling over my ankle. “Can I take these off? Your socks are soaked.”
“Yeah.” I nodded and waited for his reaction.
Noah carefully undid the Velcro to unwrap my ankles. I couldn’t stop the deep sigh that escaped me. Those things were kind of like bras. Supportive, preventing unwanted jiggles, but, god,it felt good when they came off at the end of the day.
He placed my socks and braces on the counter and ran his hands back up my legs until he stood between my knees, his expression still neutral.
“Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“Is that why you wanted to become a doctor?”
