Chapter 12: Chapter 11

NOAH

Ever since Noah began his fling with Lillian three days ago, his vacations had taken a turn for the better. They were no longer just a break from work, but a whirlwind of excitement.

Sex.

Laughter.

Carefree enjoyment.

More sex.

Conversations.

And even more sex.

This was exactly the kind of summer he needed. He couldn’t recall ever having such a blast with a woman before.

They spent most of their time at his villa, as Lillian had grown tired of cleaning up after their escapades at her parents’ house. He agreed that it was a bit awkward and inconvenient.

He had never tried it at his father’s place or his own—especially not at his own, considering his ex-wife Dorothy was living there until he sold it post-divorce.

Most of his affairs took place in hotels. He avoided going to a woman’s place while he was married, as it tended to make them more attached.

His penthouse, where he resided while serving as CEO in Europe, was strictly off-limits. It was his sanctuary, a secret he kept from his lovers.

So, neither his place nor theirs. It was simpler that way. His last encounter with Tamara, who ironically lived in his old penthouse, was one of the few exceptions.

That’s why he made sure not to overstay or promise a second night.

“Plus, this place is much larger,” Lillian had remarked about the villa. “We’ll never run out of places to…utilize.”

“We don’t have much time to get bored anyway,” he replied. “Your vacation ends in about a week.”

“Yes, that’s true,” she sighed. “But let’s not talk about that yet. It ruins my mood.”

“You don’t want to leave me?” he teased, gently nipping at her belly.

They were in a bed, but not his. They had chosen one of the other bedrooms, the first one they found because they didn’t really care.

He was already paying someone to clean the entire house. She couldn’t question him. But at Lillian’s insistence, they tried to keep the mess to a minimum.

They left the windows open and even changed the sheets themselves a couple of times.

“No. I just don’t want to go back to Tamara,” she giggled, playfully slapping the back of his head.

“She’s not that bad,” he defended.

“She’s a total bitch, but maybe not to you since you slept with her,” she retorted.

Then she yanked him up by his hair and kissed him. He wasn’t one to be dominated in any aspect of life, let alone sex.

But her fiery passion and occasional roughness were incredibly arousing. Everything about Lillian was a turn-on, from her body to her sharp wit.

“Are you jealous?” he asked, smirking, though he knew she wasn’t.

“No.” She frowned. “Should I be?”

“I don’t think so.”

He positioned himself between her legs and grabbed a condom from the nightstand. He had made sure to stock every bedroom, as he couldn’t keep his hands off her.

He slipped it on, and she chuckled, amused at his eagerness. The little tease! As if she didn’t feel the same way.

“You have quite the libido,” she remarked, smirking.

“Don’t pretend you don’t like it.”

“I never said I didn’t,” she drawled, spreading her legs wider and lifting her hips to give him better access.

He appreciated a woman who could take a hint, and he showed her just how much.

He pinned her hands above her head and entered her slowly. She moaned in response, and he maintained the slow pace for a while.

He loved the effect it had on her. He loved how she arched her back and pulled him closer by his ass the moment he released her arms.

When he couldn’t take the slow pace anymore, he quickened his movements, and soon she was crying out in pleasure.

He was quieter during his climax, but no less satisfied. He collapsed beside her, a smug grin on his face.

“What are you so smug about?” she chuckled.

“It was a job well done,” he winked.

“And you have to gloat?”

“Yes, I do.”

He removed the condom, tied it off, and tossed it into the trash bin beside the bed. Later, much later, she’d insist he take out the trash—she didn’t want the cleaning lady knowing how many times they’d had sex.

Those were Lillian’s words, not his. He didn’t really care, but then again, he wasn’t a local. She was.

“I didn’t peg you as the type who cared about a woman’s pleasure,” she remarked.

“Of course I care. It’s proof that I did my job right.”

Did he sound like a jerk? Absolutely. But he was with a woman he felt at ease enough to be truthful with.

“I see…you care because it makes it about you,” she drawled.

He laughed and pulled her close. The gesture was impulsive, but he didn’t regret it.

In the past, he’d been cautious with actions that might suggest any kind of affection. Not that he felt the urge to hug a woman that often. It had only happened with Vanessa before.

But this was different. There was a mutual understanding with Lillian. She didn’t expect more than he could offer, and that was freeing.

A hug didn’t mean commitment; it was just comfort, and comfort was a good thing.

She snuggled into his embrace, and he didn’t mind. He enjoyed her body against his—the feel of her skin on his.

Comfort was there, and lust too, but at the moment, the former was more dominant. After all, he needed a breather before the next round.

“You’re good at it, I’ll give you that,” she confessed.

“You’re not too shabby yourself.”

If she could compliment him, he could return the favor—and mean it.

“I can’t compete with your experience, you manwhore,” she teased.

“How many have you been with?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“Are you seriously asking me that?” She laughed in disbelief.

“Yes, why not?”

She pulled away from his embrace and looked down at him.

“Why do you guys always ask that question?” she demanded.

“Why does it bother you? It’s just a question.”

“I don’t know,” she mocked. “Maybe because you use our answers to label us as sluts.”

“I’m not a hypocrite, so I’m only asking out of curiosity. It doesn’t matter to me if you’ve been with a hundred guys or just one.”

It really didn’t matter to him, but she still seemed skeptical.

“Are you sure?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? We’re both adults; you weren’t a virgin, so I’d be a fool not to expect that you’ve had a few—or more than a few—lovers before we started sleeping together.”

“You’re really okay with this, aren’t you?”

“Yes. So far, I haven’t been the jealous type. I only worry about STDs and unwanted pregnancies. That’s why I always use protection, and that’s why I haven’t asked you if you’re on birth control.”

“I’m not. Never have been.”

“Why?” he exclaimed.

This was a bit of a surprise. Most women he’d been with claimed to be on birth control. He never took their word for it and preferred to play it safe.

He’d heard that without a condom the pleasure was even better, but he wasn’t ready to deal with potential consequences, so he’d never gone without one.

“Because I don’t like taking pills unless it’s necessary for my health, and besides, most guys see it as an invitation for unprotected sex,” she explained.

“That’s true.”

“I’d lie, you know.” She smirked.

“I don’t understand,” he said, frowning.

“Even if I was on birth control, I’d tell them I wasn’t.”

“Are you lying to me?”

“Nope. No need. You’re so terrified of catching something or becoming a father that you’d use a condom regardless. The number is six, by the way.”

She settled back down beside him, finding her way back into his arms, and he liked how naturally it happened. Comfort again.

“So, I’m the seventh? Like the seven wonders of the world?” he asked, unable to hide the smugness in his voice.

“Do you consider yourself a wonder?” she laughed, quickly adding, “No, don’t answer that. You do.”

“I do,” he confirmed. “Less than I used to, though.”

“All you do is boast about your skill.”

“Right now, it’s the only thing I have to boast about because I know I do it well.”

“Have you ever thought about becoming a gigolo, or are you too old for that?” she teased.

“It hadn’t crossed my mind,” he said, pretending to consider it. “Would you consider paying for my company?” he asked, a playful curiosity in his voice.

“I wouldn’t pay for sex, period,” she retorted, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

“And I wouldn’t sleep with someone I didn’t find attractive. So, the gigolo idea is a bust,” he concluded.

His fingers traced a slow path up her thigh, causing her skin to ripple with goosebumps. “Ready for another round?” he murmured, his voice low and husky.

“No, I want us to shower and head out,” she replied.

“The only time I regret using protection is when we shower together. I’d love to take you against the wall, your skin slick and wet,” he confessed.

“Or in the tub,” she whispered, her breath warm against his lips.

“Don’t tease me,” he groaned.

“Then we’ll shower separately,” she teased.

She hopped off the bed and beat him to the bathroom. He let her go, too lazy to move and too entranced by the view of her retreating figure.

She locked the door behind her, a wise move considering his growing temptation to join her and act out his fantasy. His body responded to the mere thought of it.

Why did she want to go out? They were better off here, tangled in each other. They’d already explored the town twice; it wasn’t a big place.

Sex seemed more pressing at the moment. He knew their fling was temporary, and that was fine, but he found himself wishing for more time with her.

She’d be gone by week’s end, and he’d be back on the road, figuring out his next move. He wasn’t as eager to keep wandering. His thirst for travel had waned after seeing so much of the world.

He’d visited incredible places and others he’d rather forget. Being with her was better. He didn’t have to worry about the future or the ticking clock.

He wasn’t getting any younger, but here, with her, he felt carefree. They ventured out, and for the first time, he held a woman’s hand without it meaning anything more.

They ate, then went to a summer theater to catch a movie. It was an old black-and-white film, but he enjoyed it. He’d never appreciated simple pleasures like this before.

After leaving his business life behind, he found joy in unexpected places. His father had questioned his lifestyle, but Noah could only shrug.

He couldn’t explain it, not even to himself. He was still discovering his talents, still searching for his purpose. This freedom felt liberating.

Chasing the wrong dream had taken its toll, and now he was reclaiming the youth he’d missed. The simple things he’d once scorned now brought him joy.

Lillian was one of those joys, though she was far from simple. He craved her constantly—a new experience for him. If he didn’t know better, he’d think he was acting like a smitten teenager.

The thought made him chuckle, and he didn’t mind it as much as he thought he would. He’d suggested this arrangement, so he might as well enjoy it fully.

He’d never truly experienced this when he was younger. He’d been sexually active since his teens, but love had never been part of the equation. Sometimes he wondered what kind of man he was.

People fall in love all the time, especially when they’re young. Was there something wrong with him for never experiencing it? He’d been so focused on his future that he’d neglected his present.

He’d married Dorothy, a woman from a respectable family—a family that could benefit his business and status. He didn’t harbor any resentment for the way things had turned out.

If he allowed himself to wallow in bitterness, he’d be on a fast track to depression, and he wasn’t about to let himself be that weak. He’d always done what he thought was right, and he was doing what made him happy now. It was as simple as that.

***

As soon as they walked inside after another movie night, he had her pinned against the door.

Ten minutes before the movie ended, he’d started whispering in her ear about how much he wanted her. She’d told him to shut up, but he knew he was getting to her.

So, he suggested they stop by her parents’ house on the way back. It was closer, after all. He hadn’t expected her to agree, but luck was on his side.

She bit his lower lip and quickly unzipped his jeans. “You’re more eager than I am, I see,” he teased, nibbling on her earlobe.

“I’ve never done it against a door,” she moaned. “At least you’re creative.”

“We should have tried this sooner.” Impatient, he lifted her dress and tore her panties off.

“Hey, I liked those,” she protested, punching his back.

“More than you want me?” he asked, kissing her before standing up straight.

“You arrogant ass,” she laughed, bending down to retrieve a condom from his pocket.

She let his jeans fall back around his ankles. She handed him the condom.

“Thanks.” He winked, slipping it on. “You could have stayed down there a bit longer, though.”

“I could say the same for you,” she shot back.

“Next time,” he promised.

He grabbed her by the ass, and she quickly jumped, wrapping her legs around his waist. He was even quicker to enter her. He didn’t take it slow, and her back hit the door repeatedly before they both climaxed.

“I’ve changed my mind about doors,” she mumbled into his shoulder as he gently set her down.

Yes, it had been a bit rough for her. Not the sex; she could handle that just fine. But the door was a hard surface.

“Before or after you came for me?” he asked, smirking.

“I came for me, you jerk,” she retorted, smoothing her dress.

“And it was after. My back hurts, and I’m sure I’ll have a huge bruise by tomorrow.”

“You should be too blissful to complain,” he observed.

“You like big words, don’t you?” she chuckled, bumping his shoulder as she walked past him.

“I’m satisfied as always, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m also in pain.”

“You’re getting old,” he teased.

“Well, next time, it’ll be your back against the door—and we’ll see how you handle it.”

“Will you let me wrap my legs around your waist too?” he joked, following her into the living room.

“Maybe one. You ate too many waffles.”

She flopped down on the couch, and he went to the kitchen to clean up their mess.

“No, I didn’t,” he called back.

“Tell that to your potbelly,” she retorted.

“Potbelly?”

“Oh, am I the only one seeing this?” she feigned surprise.

“Apparently.”

“A man your age should exercise more regularly—and before you say it, sex isn’t enough exercise. I need a glass of water while you’re in there—and wash your hands before you get it.”

He rolled his eyes but turned on the faucet anyway, washing his hands before grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and two glasses from the cupboard.

“It’s time-consuming though,” he said, referring to her comment about sex.

“If you had that much sex during the year, you should either be more fit or in rehab because after a point it could be considered an addiction,” she told him, taking a glass and the bottle from him.

He laughed, throwing his head back.

That was why he liked her more than the others. She had a wicked sense of humor, and the funny thing was that he hadn’t thought of himself as someone who appreciated that quality in people, especially not his mistresses.

But now he enjoyed it, and it bothered him that he would soon miss it. Forming a serious relationship with Lillian or any other woman was out of the question, so he hadn’t shared his deepest thoughts. He wasn’t the type to rain on anyone’s parade—not on this occasion.