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

18 | Part 2 - The Storm

Five days later, a July summer rain.

The automatic light above the workshop flashes on as night falls. I keep thinking I'm going to see Noah's broad silhouette. He'll give me one of his hidden smiles. It will be like any other day again, but he's not here. I step off the porch in my nightgown and walk to the workshop. Jogging with my hand over my head does a poor job of blocking the rain on my braided hair. A light, warm summer rain falls onto my bare shoulders. One of those rare rains in the summer for Sacramento. The kind the farmers pray for in our almost always disappointed by perpetual droughts. I push open the door and The light cascades down on me. My eyes adjust to the light in the workshop. The sharp scent of wet paint and thinner greets me. By the door, a freshly painted canvas that's shades of blues and grays. The abstract color choices swirl wet on the canvas. The painted wave rises into the next panel. Another panel next to it turned on its side with more blues, whites, grays. The wave punches into the next panel. Each painting on the canvas is bigger.

I hold my breath as I walk by more panels. The next painting is bigger than a truck. Each panel is thoroughly detailed with the wave growing in size. The wave crest on the last canvas. A riot of color in a storm. Noah stands on top of the scaffold in the workshop's back wall. It stretches the canvas all the way to the high ceiling of the workshop. Noah's paintbrush moves furiously over the immense painting. A little sailing boat with the white sail in a sea shadowed by a storm. A massive wave seconds from overtaking the sailing boat in the storm.

More painting spread out at the foot of the scaffold into the room. Total panels more than my quick count of thirty. The whole thing makes one big landscape like a puzzle. I am surrounded by his wave. In the center of the storm.

"Noah?"

Noah's paintbrush pauses mid-stroke. His sandy blond hair obscures his facial expression with his gaze on the open picture window. A light rain falls through, missing the finished landscapes drying out. The boat sits ready to be moved to the art show at the start of the new year. He doesn't turn around at my call up to him. Tiny paint flecks of different shades of blue on his shirtless back. His sweat pants that hang just a little too low on his well-muscled hips.

"Noah, I..." I have absolutely no idea what to say to him. The date was a mistake. Do you like me, I like you, but I'm not sure if you are here for it? I'd be happy to be just friends. Can we hang out more? What the fuck am I in high school? I'm a twenty-six-year-old woman with two kids. What the fuck is going on? He puts his paintbrushes into the can and climbs down the scaffolding. What is with this intensity level? The room reeks of paint, thinner, wet paint, and massive amounts of testosterone. Noah turns around, one of the rare times he gives me full eye contact. And his stormy blue eyes look into mine. I see him. My breath catches. I see this man down to his soul.

His chest rises and falls in big racing breaths. He towers over me. His large hands at his sides.

"Noah," I whisper? My uncertainty and nervousness coat that single name.

His fingertips brush against my cheek. Blue paint glides across my brown skin. Noah pulls away and his mouth turns downward in disappointment at the paint. I hold him in place, light painted coated fingers swirl more paint on my cheek. His big hand moves down my cheek to my neck. The trail of cerulean now with a whirlpool of white and grey. The shades mix. Noah touches my shoulder. Thought fades to only his callous hand moving down my body. He slides my nightgown shoulder to the side. The gown hangs off me as loose as his paint-coated finger circles my dark skin.

Noah's long, sandy hair falls into his bright eyes. I reach up and push back his long locks. My greedy gaze eats up the stormy blue view. I lick my lips. His rough hand skims against the side of my breast. Noah's thumb circles my nipple hardens to chase after his next touch. His big thumb flecks across the hard tip.

The quiet Noah, the one that sits in front of works of art for hours and shapes them. That Noah shapes me.

I hear nothing but our fast breaths and that summer storm falls harder. The silence expands. His rough thumb strokes my starved nipple to bliss. A tiny moan escapes me. Noah halts, with his thumb on my tip. The world stops. It's me, him, our shared harsh breaths, and the rain.

Noah growls and shatters the stillness. Our gaze locks my brown meets his stormy blue. The nightgown goes over my head and panties come down. Throw that shit to the ground. He grabs my thick thighs, hoisting me up. Together so tight our scent mixed. Cocoa butter and the smell of tall forest by the edge of a salty sea.

I lift my hips against his hard abs. No matter how hard I try to sate myself against him, it's not enough. I need. The soft cotton of his sweat pants rubs against my ass. I shift against the hardness below me. His fingers bite deep into my meaty thighs. His rough beard tickles my cheek.

I lean backward, and he takes me to the ground. He digs his finger into my thighs, spreading me out open for him. He pulls his sweat pants down and his hardness bobs up, thick and proud. His wide cock head cloudy with a juicy wet pearl at the tip.

Noah surges into me and the fullness bites. His thick length leaves no space for anything inside me but Noah. He was the storm that moved within me like a hurricane. Chasing what we both needed and the want, that ache deep inside me. My starved body broke down, my thoughts into the simplest staccato base form. Relentless, remorseless, unstoppable hot flesh scorching my soul. My restlessness intertwined with his storm, and we crashed together. I am stretched out around Noah in gratitude, finally.

His stacked muscles bunch over me as he slams home hard and fast. Hot sloppy sounds of our joining combine with the rain. I relaxed into his force and I cocked my hip to take that last stubborn, thick inch of him.

Noah's eyes lock on mine. "Tari," he whispers. His enormous hands work my hips for the last bit of him to get into me.

"Fuckkkkk..." it bites.

He was way past the end of me. My sea god, Neptune himself, that came down to earth to paint and do woodworking. The guy who's sweet to me and nice to my kids. Mr. Noah Jude himself smiled at me when he was deep inside my body. Combines us into one person for just a second.

"Yes...." he growls, seats himself deep, cuming into me. 

***

A/n: Well, if yall don't add this story to your list and share this story. Faries can't get their orgasm. You letting them faries down. They want to get theirs yall lol.

Serious note. I hope this scene works for you. I will post the rest. Three to four days. Possibly sooner. Gotta save up my calories. I reward myself with ice cream when I edit sex scenes.  lol hit that run with an extra mile so I can get the next one up soon.