Fixing Noah / Finding Noah - #ForNoah | +18 | BWWM

07 | I see Ghosts

A/n: This may contain triggering things. Please be careful. I don't want to give too much away but there are no hearts and flowers here folks. 

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It was ugly. The kind of ugly desperation of lost memories coupled with frustration. He was and wasn't my Noah. He was a Tsunami of emotion in his turbulent ocean eyes. And when he kissed me, his groan into my mouth was filled with that pain. More wounded animal than pleasure. And that pain was mixed with our kiss. He tasted bitter-sweet like eating a dark chocolate bar with sea salt flakes. Elegant, seductive, delicious, and oh so bitter to the taste at the same time. When he lifted me, pinning me against the wall roughly, I watched us in the mirror. My eyes never left him in the mirror as I open and wrap my arms around him. Rubbing against his heated warmth that was burning me up.

Each glance into his pain-filled gaze hurt. I couldn't help my eyes, always drifting from Noah and to his thick back. Those ocean blue eyes were too damaged for me. The mirror became a place to hide from him, but I couldn't hide from myself as I looked into it. Noah wasn't a guy of words. He wasn't going to give you fancy, smooth operator speeches. He was the type of guy to keep it plain and heartfelt. It was in the same way you could always find him outside his workshop in jeans, work boots, henley, and a flannel shirt. But for most things, I could always read Noah through his expressive eyes. Eyes he always hides with his long sandy blonde hair, but with it up in a refined bun there was no hiding.

He was exposed.

Raw.....

All the pain I caused.

Noah dragged his nose along my neck, and I lean to the side, giving him better access. My shivers followed in the wake of his lips because my body knew him. Trained to his touch over those long months of frantic fucking. Filled with so few nights of us not being together. His tongue plays at my neck and my body shifts against his tux-clad hard body. Searching for more of him. That was most of our time together in tiny moments that I let myself love him, knowing that I was his first. Knew that maybe he didn't love me back, but I loved him. Quiet moments where he could reach so deep into me, my soul cried.

I touched his beloved cheek, lifting his mouth to mine, and he savaged my lips. Drawing the dirtiest hungriest moan from the depth of me at his taste. We drank each other down so god damn thirsty. I lean my head against Noah's forehead. We were going too fast, way too fast. His beard brushes against my cheek as he shifts me and pushes up my evening gown. I wanted to savor what I couldn't have, but he wanted now. 

But if I was honest with myself, so did I.

I push down my panties to the floor. 

His thumb grazes against me. The big thumb moved through my creamy wetness and Noah hissed. As if touching my pleasure was touching his pain.

"Tari.." he said. I was trained to his touch, addicted to it, craved it every second I couldn't have it. Every second he wasn't near, but what I knew that was even worse was more than his touch. It was his thoughtfulness, his kindness, and the way he would watch me with such intent. Things could have been easier if I just missed that hard, thick cock that was pushing against my belly between us. But it was the man.

Rage, pain, and lust swirled in him when he stepped back. I slid back to my unsteady feet waiting for him. It's so foreign. I don't think rage was meant to touch Noah's expression. As if it was there to invade him. But the passion couldn't stop a fine line between hate and lust. Noah unbuckled his belt and opened his tux pants. His thickness bobbing proudly against his hard belly. It was a sight. Noah's hair up urbane... chic.. in a bespoke suit so well fitted to him he appeared like he could blend in with the rich, powerful people invited. With his hard cock out thick on display. Not a bit of shyness. He wasn't my Noah...flannels and sweet ocean eyes.