I love curling up with her, but these days, all I can think about is whether we’ll get the chance to finish the series whenwe’re no longer working together. It’s entirely possible she’s going to call this whole thing off in a week, and, if so, our last few days will be tainted by uncertainty and anxiety.
How will she spend Christmas? How does she usually spend Christmas? I can’t imagine Nico is much in the way of company. How will she spend her paycheck from the movie? She mentioned wanting to do some work onÉpices et Sucréweeks ago, but never specifics. I want to be there—to help, if I can. I want to spend Christmas with her and take her to the reservoir on New Year’s Eve to watch the fireworks.
I want more. I need more.
I need Shay.
But right now, it feels as much of a fantasy as the taste of her did all those weeks ago. And this time, I have no idea how to turn this fantasy into reality.
26
SHAY
My body all but collapses onto the bed at the plastic click of the harness clasp. The sound sends a zing of anticipation through me every time I hear it, and I’m already on edge and sensitive from the three orgasms she’s given me tonight.
Something feels… different. Noelle has seemed off all day, and I’m in denial about what that means. She tried to talk about it earlier, and I shut her down, because we have less than a week of working together left, and I’m not ready to think about what comes next.
There are three outcomes I can see, each one getting less likely. The first—and most likely—scenario in my head is that filming wraps, Noelle goes back to being run off her feet at work, and gently breaks that she doesn’t have time for us to keep hanging out. I don’t think she’ll go back to hating me—I hope not, anyway. If she does, I might just have to move in with Nico and never show my face around here again.
I find it hard to see an outcome where this friendship or whatever we’re calling it is maintainable as it is, but that’s still more likely than the third scenario: she wants more thancasually hanging out and hooking up. The idea that she would want that, with me of all people, is laughable.
But things have felt less casual lately. The boat trip, telling her parents about us, the late nights and early mornings, the way she just watches me sometimes… It’s fucking with my head, telling me there’s a tiny, minute chance she wants this like I do.
And I don’t think I can risk the heartbreak of asking her and being let down. That’s why I changed the subject earlier, when I could tell she wanted to talk about what comes next. Denial is as safe as it gets right now.
And denial doesn’t feel half bad when it involves Noelle’s fingers digging into my hips as she pushes the smooth dildo into me with a curse.
“Oh, fuck,” she groans, her fingers pressing almost painfully into my skin. It feels incredible.
Noelle’s toy collection is bordering on hoarding, but no complaints from me. I’ve enjoyed everything we’ve tried, though that probably has more to do with who I’m trying them with than the toys themselves. Her collection puts the fifteen-year-old rabbit I found at the back of a dingy lingerie store at the mall to shame. I’ve been missing out.
This particular one seems to be a favorite of hers, though. The harness itself is much simpler than the ones she has on her wall—a mix of pleather, elastic, plastic clasps, and a few decorative chain links—but she favors it over the fancier ones, and she makes my mouth water every time I watch her put it on.
It has two pink vibrating dildos, one for each of us, and Noelle explained that every movementIfeel, she feels. And it feels fucking incredible. Every brush of the silicone inside me is like Noelle is striking a match, over and over again, until we’re consumed by flames.
She leans over me, covering my body with hers, pressing a kiss to the back of my head as she fucks me. I push up on myarms with difficulty, and she runs her hand down my torso. She brushes her thumb over my nipple, gently at first, then not at all. She pinches, and I cry out, clenching her flannel sheets.
Christmas sheets, of course. I’ve gotten so used to falling apart in Noelle’s collection of Christmas bedding that I’m worried I’m going to have a Pavlovian response to the extra Christmas decor that pops up in Wintermore come November.
Noelle pulls me up to my knees, my back pressed against her front, her hand clasped gently around my throat. She’s not squeezing or restricting my airway in any way, but the fact that she could… Fuck. My head falls back against her shoulder, and I clench around the dildo, my legs shaking.
She thrusts into me as her fingers find my clit, and my vision goes black for a split second.
“Oh god,” I moan, pressing my body back into her.
“You better not be giving god credit for how good I’m making you feel, sweetheart,” Noelle whispers in my ear, her breath tickling me.
She lifts the hand around my throat so it’s cupping my chin and turns my head so she can press a kiss against my burning cheek. She drags her lips down, over my jaw, and into the curve of my shoulder, nipping my skin with her teeth, then blowing cool air over the spot.
The quick rush of sensation tips me over the edge, and I tumble into bliss. My body lights up, and I can feel Noelle everywhere, from the tips of my toes to the top of my head to the marrow in my bones.
I’m vaguely aware of Noelle crying my name, her arms looping around my body and tightening as she falls apart. We both slip forward, falling against the mattress, a trembling, breathless mess, but the new position only presses the dildo harder against my G-spot, and another wave of pleasure rocks through me.
I’m weightless, floating outside of my own body, my mind empty of everything but Noelle. She pulls out of me, and I cry in protest, but it dies on my lips when, a moment later, her tongue is all over my pussy.
“You. Taste. Fucking. Incredible. Sweetheart.” She punctuates each word with a lick before rubbing her tongue over my clit. I’m so sensitive that I’m gone with the first touch, pulling the bedsheets so hard that I feel the corner pop off the mattress, as Noelle draws the fifth? Sixth? Orgasm of the night out of me. I’ve lost track at this point.
My body is liquid, a pliant puddle. Noelle moves around with ease as she lies down beside me and nudges me until we’re both on our sides, nose to nose.
