The Note by Natalie Wrye (urban books to read .TXT) 📗

for the first time in a long time, I welcome it with open arms.

Crafting a carefully polished veneer had been part of my life since I cared to remember. Crafting the image of the perfect company. The perfect son. The perfect sibling under my grandfather’s beloved Quinn surname.

“Snob,” my brothers called it. “Nothing was ever good enough,” they joked.

Perfection.

I’d scoff if I could.

The concept of it was the purest of bullshit.

And that bullshit was my savior. My safety raft in a world where I was quietly drowning.

The scared little daddy-less boy I’d been was still there. Beneath the suit. Hiding inside the penthouse apartment.

Terrified.

Perfection was a better disguise than most. Because once you had it, people rarely tried to peek beneath the surface.

Which was just how I liked it. For so damned long.

But what was perfection compared to having a father who was actually present? What was the illusion of immaculate living next to the belief that your mother—who’d long succumbed to the throes of illness and self-pity—actually gave a shit?

I want to tell Sophia exactly that, but I can’t stop kissing her long enough, and I let my touch, my mouth, my hands say everything that my words can’t.

I know what’s happening between her and I won’t mean anything; it can’t.

But that doesn’t stop me from cupping the edge of Sophia’s soft and delectable ass, lifting her from her feet and separating myself for just a second so I can say the only word that matters right now.

I mutter out “Bedroom.” And she points me down the hall.

My little thief squeezed between my hands, her eyes clenched tight, I carry her just inside of the soft pink walls of her bedroom. Laying her down on the white sheets, I disconnect myself, letting myself stand.

Her eyes follow my every move as I reach for the top button of my shirt, unfastening it slowly so she can watch.

God knows I fucking love watching her.

Her amber-green eyes go wide as I reveal each inch of skin.

She smirks, her eyes hazy with lust. “Are you trying to kill me?”

I smirk back. “At one point, I thought about it.”

“If you move any slower, I’m going to explode on this bed without you.”

I keep unbuttoning. “Well, spread your legs, so I can watch.” I finally unfasten the last one. “Or maybe, just spread them so I can do more than watch.”

I shrug out of my collared shirt, sending it sailing across the room. I lower myself to the bed.

Sophia’s eyes turn into round circles as I grab her ankles. Her elbows propped up so that she can watch from the bed, she freezes from where she lays, her knees sliding slowly apart just below the hem of her skirt.

The motion gives me peek at her cotton white panties, and I grab onto those knees of hers, spreading them even wider.

An audible gasp makes its way out of her mouth, and I press a kiss to the top of one knee, reveling in the smooth skin that lays there, loving the way Sophia whimpers as my mouth slants, the slight kiss deepening as I inhale her scent.

I can smell her arousal already.

“I see.” She utters, her eyes closing. “You want to torture me before you finish me off.”

I remove my lips from her skin. “Finishing you off is exactly the point here, Sophia. As for the torture? I can’t think of a better way.” I open her legs farther. “Now, be a good Little Bear. And take your punishment the way a good little prisoner should.”

I lower my lips back to her knee. Kissing my way upward, I bite along her thighs. Each inch of skin I cover with my mouth is blazing hot and by the time I make it to Sophia’s panties, she’s already soaking wet.

I place my mouth over the damp area and suck her skin through the fabric. She moans out loud and it is music to my ears.

I lap the folds of Sophia’s sex through the cotton, taking my time, torturing her with every lash, every suckle, every motion of my lips and tongue until she is panting on the bed, a practical mess spread out on the white sheets.

She pleads with me. “Please, Noah… Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” I growl, sliding the tip of my tongue along her covered slit.

“Please don’t torture me anymore. Just make me come. Please.”

I glance up at her. “Don’t you think you deserve a little torture, Little Bear? After what you did? I’m just your friendly neighborhood wolf. I grin. “Trying to make sure you repent properly.”

“I repent,” she gasps, as my mouth returns to her now-throbbing pussy. “I repent.”

“Sweetheart, you haven’t been punished nearly enough. Now hold still.” I reach for her cotton panties, pulling them down her tight legs. I throw them across the room. “I’m going to teach you the meaning of sorry.”

And then I punish her, showing her no mercy. No end to my relentlessness.

Her nails dig deep in my scalp as she reaches for me. Licking a hot path across her hot slit, I make love to Sophia with my mouth, picking up the pace with each stroke.

Her hips rotate on the bed as I circle her clit and soon the tugs on my hairline are almost unbearable. She moans my name as I flick that engorged clit, her thighs clenching around me. But I don’t stop.

The word “Noah” becomes its own chant, and just as Sophia nears the edge, just as her body tickles with the precipice of ecstasy, I push her over, taking my tongue and plunging it inside her soft pussy until her taste bursts all over my tongue—tangy and sweet.

I lap up every inch I can find, breathing in all of her.

Her body clenches and releases around the length of my tongue, and still I keep penetrating her, giving new meaning to the word retribution.

Sophia comes again, and I suck up every sweet sample, loving her hungry flavor, never getting enough.

With regret, I inch away from her