zutto — chapter thirty-one | wc: 7.6k | series masterpost | prev. chapter
Chapter summary: Noah and Lia go to France for a much-needed vacation alone
Reading time: about 40mins
Tags and trigger warnings: two people in love in a much deserved vacation, talks of marriage, tiny bit of angst because they're idiots in love after all, flirting and teasing, recurrent thoughts of sex, noah and his kinks, noah on his knees, worshiping, oral (lia rec.), fingering, p in v (protected), blindfolding, "good girl", slight dom/sub dynamics, use of sex toys.
General trigger warnings: this work addresses and depicts issues related to addiction, abuse, & violence, contains explicit sexual content, and explores themes of childhood trauma. Reader discretion is advised. +18
The view from the room was breathtaking.
The Bay of Biscay stretched outward in folds of silver and slate, waves crashing against the rocks below.
Lia leaned against the cool stone balustrade of the balcony, the wind pulling at her hair, her eyes following the slow curve of the coastline. She thought she could live her whole life with that sound at her window.
The hotel stood on a rocky ledge, the farthest arm of Biarritz, almost suspended between land and sea. From there, she could see the Rocher de la Vierge, a rock formation with a statue of a Virgin Mary on top. If Lia turned her head just slightly, she could also see La Plage du Port Vieux, its crescent of sand cupped between cliffs, and beyond it, the promenade where people were beginning to drift out for their evening walks.
It wasn’t quite cold, considering it was the last week of September, but the air carried the first whisper of the upcoming cold days. A few people sat on blankets and towels near the shore, reluctant to let summer go.
It smelled different here. Not only of salt and seaweed and the faint sweetness of damp rock, but something more, as though the air itself had been rinsed of the static she’d grown used to in Los Angeles. She filled her lungs again, greedy for it, and felt it wash something from her.
Noah had outdone himself when he chose this place, she thought.
He was sprawled across the massive bed in the room, face down, fully dressed except for his sneakers, which lay where he’d kicked them off the moment they arrived. He was deep in sleep, one long leg dangling close to the floor.
They had been awake for over twenty-four hours. Noah always struggled to sleep on planes (his long legs made every seat feel like a cage), while Lia had managed only brief snatches of rest until he’d start shrugging her off his shoulder, half-asleep and uncomfortable.
After landing in Paris, they’d endured another short flight south to Biarritz, though the wait at Charles de Gaullehad been longer than the flight itself. By the time their taxi wound its way from the small Basque airport to the hotel perched above the coast, Noah had been running on fumes. When he saw the bed, his sigh of relief had almost distracted Lia from the ocean view waiting behind the curtains.
Now, as the sun began to dip, she slipped back inside, content to be where she was, closing the balcony doors and drawing the drapes. Noah was snoring softly on the bed.
She watched him for a moment. There was tenderness in the sight of him like this: unguarded, careless, relaxed.
She wanted to make him more comfortable, to coax him beneath the sheets, remove his socks and sweatpants, but she didn’t want to break his sleep. So instead, she unpacked quietly, changed into a soft cotton shirt, washed her face, brushed her teeth, and slipped beneath the covers on her side of the bed. It took only a couple of minutes for her body to final begin registering its fatigue. Her mind, though, refused to rest.
She faced Noah, his face darkened by shadows, given that the only light in the room was the fading one pressing against the curtains. She thought about tomorrow’s plans: they would walk the promenade, drink coffee facing the sea, try new food, let the days stretch unmeasured… Being there, in that beautiful corner of the world, filled her with a quiet exhilaration.
Her eyes locked on the strand of hair that had fallen over Noah’s eyes, the way his lips parted as he exhaled. He was not just attractive but beautiful, carrier of unique features that she was totally enamored with. Her heart felt impossibly full with gratitude. If it weren’t for him, she’d probably be in their apartment, working restlessly. But now? There was only this moment, this man, and the sound of the Atlantic breathing against the shore.
Lia woke the next morning after more than twelve hours of sleep. The sun was just lifting itself over the horizon.
The room was washed in that pale, new light that makes everything seem softer and half-formed. Noah was still asleep beside her, in the exact same position he’d fallen into the night before, one arm thrown across the pillow, the other under it, his hair an adorable mess.
For a moment, she considered waking him. The thought of sharing the sunrise with him crossed her mind but he looked too peaceful to disturb, so she gave him some more time. The phone on the nightstand read only 7:40 a.m.
She slipped out of bed, her body heavy but rested, and padded quietly to the bathroom. When she returned, she hesitated by the curtains, then drew them open just enough to let a blade of light spill through. Her heart gave a small, involuntary leap.
The bay lay open before her, empty, clear, and utterly still. The sky was brushed in delicate pinks and silvers and the sea looked calm and glass-like. The tide breathed faintly against the rocks below.
Her fingers itched.
She rummaged through her backpack until she found her sketchbook and pencil case, and then slipped into a sweater before stepping out onto the balcony. The air was cool enough to sting a little, clean and salted, carrying the faint hum of gulls waking along the coast. She made sure to leave the curtains mostly drawn behind her, not wanting to wake Noah with the light or the sound.
She settled into one of the chairs, pulling her knees up to hug herself. For a while, she did nothing but focus on the rhythm of the sea, the distant click of the flagpoles on the promenade, the occasional shush of wind through the stone balustrade. After a while, she picked up her sketchbook and started to draw, moving the pencil softly over the paper, tracing the horizon, that thin line where the sea dissolved into the sky.
By eight-thirty, the chill on the balcony had deepened despite the sun rising, and Lia’s fingers were beginning to stiffen around her pencil. She closed her sketchbook, lingering for a last look at the bay before slipping back inside. The room was still hushed and Noah hadn’t moved, though one of his arms had found its way to the floor.
Sitting cross-legged on her side of the bed, she picked up the small card beside the phone with the room service QR code. She scanned it with her phone and her screen lit up with the options. The sight of food made her stomach stir in sudden awareness of its emptiness. The last thing she’d eaten had been an expensive cheese sandwich at the airport, and it hadn’t even been that good, in all honesty. She was surprised Noah hadn’t woken up yet with the rumbling of his own stomach.
Reaching up for the receiver of the room’s phone, she kept her voice low as she talked to a man on the other end and ordered breakfast for two. She thanked whoever took her order and hung the phone, jumping slightly when Noah’s voice, low and drowsy, drifted from the other side of the bed.
“Did I hear chocolate-coated strawberries?”
Noah was peering at her with one eye half-open, his hair flattened on one side, his expression both comfortable and cheeky. His morning smile was a sight to behold.
“Hi there, sleeping beauty,” Lia said, and let her fingers reach to move that single strand of brown hair falling over his eyes.
He blinked slowly, trying to gather his bearings. This wasn’t his bed, and that was definitely not his and Lia’s new room. No, they were not in Los Angeles, but in a nice coastal city in France. He smiled, and for a moment, after Lia’d touched him, he simply looked at her, at the way her loose hair framed her face, the flush on her cheeks from the cold, the softness in her eyes. A wave of warmth passed through him; that quiet, almost disbelieving gratitude that she was his, that they were here, together, with nowhere to be and no one expecting anything from them.
He let out a sound that was half a groan, half a sigh, and stretched, turning on his back as his body cracked in protest. Then he sank deeper into the pillow, grinning.
“Morning,” he murmured at last, dragging a hand down his face before pushing his hair back. “What time is it?”
“Almost nine,” Lia said, leaning back against the headboard. She was wearing a large old t-shirt and a sweater on top, her legs bare. One of Noah’s hands found its resting place on her thigh. “Hungry?”
“Starving. I don’t think I’m fully conscious yet. How long was I out?”
“Almost two weeks,” Lia replied.
Noah frowned, then laughed, the sound that chased away the last trace of cold in Lia’s veins, replacing it with the warmth and love that always came with one of her favorite sounds. His lazy smile wrinkled his eyes.
Eventually, he sat up, stretching until his joints popped. He made a face when he realized he’d slept on top of the covers, wearing the same clothes he’d worn when they left their apartment in Los Angeles. Lia, on the other hand, looked fresh and cozy. And beautiful.
“You look way too awake for someone who lived through the same twenty-four hours I did,” he said, voice still rough.
Something tingled below Lia’s belly. God, that voice was sexy.
“If you’d taken a peek behind those curtains before collapsing on the bed, you wouldn’t have fallen asleep so quickly, trust me,” she replied.
“Did you stay up late?”
She shook her head and told him she’d spent a few minutes out on the balcony, soaking in the view before joining him in bed. She’d fallen asleep almost immediately. Her body knew she needed the rest. That morning, she’d woken up around seven and gone out to sketch, and when the air turned chilly and her stomach began to complain, she came back inside and ordered breakfast.
As she said the last words, her stomach rumbled again. Noah chuckled, squeezed her thigh, and reached to kiss the corner of her lips. Then, rubbing his eyes, he rose with the sluggish determination of someone trying to remember how to be human again, and made his way to the bathroom.
Lia stayed in the bed, knowing there was nothing waiting to be done, content in the quiet. She could lie there all day if she wanted, and the world would keep turning just the same.
By the time Noah reemerged from the bathroom, the man who had stumbled off a plane and face-planted into the bed the night before was gone. He’d taken a quick shower, his hair now damp and pushed back, his face freshly shaved, and his clothes clean (he was wearing a white T-shirt and loose grey joggers).
He was toweling the back of his neck when a few knocks sounded at the door, followed by a voice uttering the words “room service”.
“That’ll be breakfast,” Lia said, already half-rising from the bed.
Noah lifted a hand.
“I’ve got it.”
He crossed the room to answer the door and exchanged a quiet thank you with the attendant before returning with a large tray balanced in his hands. The smell of fresh coffee, fruit and buttered croissants filled the room and his senses instantly.
“First day in France and I’m already getting spoiled, huh?” He said, eyebrows dancing as he crossed the room.
“It’s going on your card,” Lia reminded him, biting her lip.
“So, you’re the one getting spoiled.”
“You said you’d spoil me with great food and better sex, so…”
“You’re right. Let’s start with the first part before we get to the second. Bed or balcony?”
“Are you asking about the first part or the second?”
“You’re being scandalous,” his tone was mock-serious. “I’m talking about breakfast, of course. This thing’s heavy, so make your choice, ma’am.”
She gave him a pretty smile as she got up.
“Balcony,” she decided, moving past him to draw the curtains aside and open the doors. “Though the answer’s valid for other activities, too.”
Noah would have patted her ass hadn’t he been carrying the tray. He was careful not to spill anything as the morning air met him. The sea was a deep, shifting blue now, the light catching on its surface. A few seagulls drifted in the distance as he set the tray on the table in the balcony and turned to see Lia, stretching toward the sunlight, her sweater lifting and revealing the curve of her ass and her underwear. She looked delicious, and all the ways he was going to fuck her during that trip played in his mind in a heated flash.
“Someone’s in a cheeky mood this morning.”
“My boyfriend just brought me to France for a week and a half of good food and lots of sex,” she said, grinning over her shoulder. “I think I’ve earned it.”
She wasn’t wrong. Noah chuckled, sinking into a chair. Then he finally looked at the view ahead.
“Fuck, this is beautiful.”
“And you get to enjoy it with good French coffee.” Lia handed him a cup she’d just poured. Their fingers brushed in the exchange, and they locked eyes for a fraction of a second.
Yes, he was going to fuck her in that balcony at some point.
They ate slowly, savoring the pastries, the slices of fruit, the lazy warmth of a late-September morning. Lia devoured the strawberries almost entirely by herself, making small faces of delight with every bite, while Noah watched her with amusement, his mouth curved into a lopsided smile.
“Best breakfast you’ve ever had?” he asked, lounging back as he sipped the last of his coffee.
She raised a finger, swallowed and smiled. “Best French breakfast I’ve ever had.”
“What makes it French? The croissants?”
“The fact that we’re in France,” she made a pause. “The best breakfast I’ve ever had will always be the birthday breakfasts you make for me.”
“Buttering me up?”
“Only so you’ll get me all the waffles I want while we’re here.”
“Deal,” he reached across the table to brush a spot of chocolate from the corner of her mouth. Lia caught his hand and pressed a kiss to his tattooed knuckles.
Below them, Biarritz was waking up, but up here, on their little balcony above the Bay of Biscay, time seemed content to stay still.
Lia and Noah were walking barefoot along La Grande Plage two hours later, with paper cups warming their hands (hot chocolate, not coffee), their shoes hanging from their fingers, jeans rolled up to mid-calf.
There were stretches of time when they couldn’t stop talking, pointing at a gull chasing a random person who had food in their hands, at the curve of the horizon, at a couple of people still daring to get in the water… Other stretches passed in silence, with Noah’s arm draped over Lia’s shoulders, pulling her close to press a kiss into her hair.
They collected a few pebbles and empty shells. Lia said something about it being illegal, that they’d be stopped at customs when they flew back to the States. Noah protested that it was unfair, remembering how he hadn’t been allowed to take home a katana from Japan either. They kept their treasures anyway, storing them in the small crossbody bag Lia carried.
They left their footprints side by side in the sand, and within seconds, the next wash of water erased them as if they’d never been there.
From the beach, they wandered toward Les Halles, a vibrant and noisy market where vendors called in quick Basque phrases and where the smell of bread just out of the oven spread like a wave before giving way to the sweetness of fruit and the brine of fish.
They took their time peering at every stand, moving through it unhurriedly, stopping to taste cheese and sample slices of fruit cut open on small white plates. Vendors said things in rapid French they couldn’t quite catch, and both Noah and Lia replied with smiles and their best, very-English mercis.
They left with a small bag filled with cheese bites and pastries, and from there, they wandered south until the streets grew quieter, until they reached a public garden above another stretch of beath. They sat on a bench overlooking the sea, and shared the food they’d just bought. In the water, a group of surfers gathered waiting for the right wave.
Noah tore a piece of bluish cheese and handed Lia the larger bit. They both tried it. The expressions that followed said it all. Lia forced herself to swallow; Noah turned discreetly and spat into the grass when no one was looking.
“Noah! They’ll deport you for that,” Lia joked, laughing.
“They should deport whoever invented that cheese,” Noah muttered, wiping his mouth. “Jesus, that’s going to stay on my tongue for the rest of the day.”
He could be so dramatic, but she was feeling the same. After a few minutes of good-natured complaining, they ducked into a nearby store to buy a bottle of water.
They had lunch in a small restaurant serving only traditional food, so good they didn’t talk much while eating. The rest of the afternoon was spent wandering, their legs growing heavy as evening descended and the sound of the tide deepened against the rocks.
They returned to the hotel only briefly, to grab their jackets because it the air was turning colder outside. They left their shopping bags on the desk, made a quick stop to the bathroom, where Lia reapplied some light make up, and then they were out again, walking hand in hand toward the bridge that led to the Rocher de la Vierge.
It was probably the most touristic place in Biarritz. Clusters of people were gathered there, taking pictures of the statue and the sun far in the horizon. Noah and Lia took a few photos too, a couple of selfies, some quiet shots of each other. Lia caught Noah with his back to her, gazing at the sea, and Noah caught her mid-laugh, hair tangled by the wind.
After a while spent there, feeling the salty breeze on their faces and being glued to each other, they clasped their hands again and began to wander back to the main street.
But before they could reach the archway beneath the stature of the Virgin, a ripple of commotion caught their attention.
Right below the stone arch, a young man had dropped to one knee before a woman. In his shaking hands gleamed a small box, and inside there was a ring with a diamond on it, catching the last light of the evening.
Murmurs ran through the small crowd that started to gather around them, soft gasps and delighted murmurs. Lia’s breath caught when she realized she was seeing a proposal, happening right there, against the backdrop of the sea.
The woman pressed a hand to her mouth, tears welling in her eyes, and nodded before bending toward her boyfriend so that he could slip the ring onto her finger. Applause broke out, strangers cheering. Someone whistled. The joy in the air was suddenly infectious and Noah joined in the applause.
But when he turned to Lia, her expression was quiet. She had that look of wonder in her eyes, but it was threaded with something else, more inward.
Trying to read her thoughts and failing, Noah wrapped an arm around her middle from behind, pressing her back to his chest. He gave her a comforting squeeze and pressed a kiss to her head.
The crowd lingered there for a while, some offering congratulations, others offering to take photos of the newly engaged couple. Behind them, the sky was bruising pink and gold, the sun sinking into the bay, painting the waves.
When the noise began to fade, Lia and Noah kept walking, passing the Aquarium and heading toward the gardens where the Cloche du Plateau de l’Atalaye stood. They were still holding hands and walking without any hurry. But as the silence stretched, Noah felt Lia’s fingers tense slightly in his, and when he glanced down, she was staring straight ahead in that thoughtful way of hers that meant there was something brewing in her head. And in most cases, it wasn’t something nice.
“Have you ever thought about getting married?”
The question came softly, almost casually, but it stopped Noah cold. He blinked, forcing himself to keep walking, to pretend his heart hadn’t just stumbled.
“What makes you ask that?” he asked her.
“Isn’t it obvious?” She tilted her head toward where the couple had been, now swallowed up by the crowd. “And Jolly’s planning to propose to Emery soon, right?”
“I have no idea,” Noah said. It wasn’t a lie, exactly. Jolly got the ring, had shown it to him, but he hadn’t told Noah when or where he was planning to pop the question to Emery.
“Hasn’t it got you thinking?”
“No, not really,” he said too quickly. “Why? Has it got you thinking?”
Lia shrugged, a tiny smile ghosting across her lips. “The normal kind of thinking, I guess. That couple’s probably our age.”
“Yeah. Maybe.”
“Would you like to get married?” she asked, looking up at him with those big eyes.
She wasn’t supposed to ask him that. Not now.
Because he had plans. Plans he didn’t want changed.
Then again, maybe this was exactly the question Jolly had told him to ask her, the one that would make all his doubts fade away and find for once and for all if Lia was interested in marriage, if it was something she contemplated in her future.
He had seen that look in her eyes when that young man had gotten down on one knee in front of the woman, and he hadn’t been able to read it. Did she want that? Did she want him to get down on one knee for her? Did she want to get married, to be his wife? To have him as her husband?
Fuck, Noah cursed to himself. The way she was looking at him now was a very clear yes, and yet…
He swallowed.
“Yeah, why not,” he said, his tone light, too light. “At some point. When things aren’t so crazy.”
He knew, even as the words left his mouth, that it was the wrong answer, that it fell short of something. He wanted to tell her everything: that he already had the ring, that he’d spent weeks and weeks choosing it, debating with himself. He wanted to tell her that he’d imagined asking her, but not here, not yet. That he was ready to have his heart broken in case she said no, that he would stay at her side husband or boyfriend. He didn’t care.
But when he asked the question… He wanted it perfect. And now was not the time.
He wanted her to have a week away untouched by the weight of decisions.
And now, instead of truth, he offered deflection, and watched the light fade a little from her eyes.
“Yeah,” she said softly, turning away. And after a pause that felt too long, “When it’s not so crazy.”
It would always be crazy, that was what she was thinking. The world never slowed down long enough. They were always on the move, or locked in a studio, or recording music videos and having meetings.
She shook her head and tried to focus on the horizon instead. This trip was supposed to free her mind, not to fill it with thoughts of marriage. Why was she suddenly doing this to herself? She moved some hair away from her face, sighed silently, and pulled Noah ahead.
The waves grew louder, as if trying to fill the spaces where their words should be. Noah felt the distance, like the tide pulling sand from beneath their feet. He wanted to say something, but didn’t know what. The last thing he had expected for their first night away was a talk about marriage.
Lia kept pulling at him almost absently, toward the edge of the path.
“Let’s watch the sunset,” she said.
The sun was nearly gone now, melting into the horizon, leaving streaks of copper in its wake. A breeze swept in from the sea, cool. Lia climbed onto the stone balustrade and sat there, her jacket zipped tightly. Noah stood behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her against him.
She felt his warmth through their layers of fabric, his breath brushing her ear, his masculine scent. He rested his cheek against her hear, and for a long while, they stayed that way, two silhouettes against the fading light, watching the sun set, like fire in the distance.
“It’s beautiful,” Lia whispered. The press of Noah’s hands locked against her stomach was nice.
“That’s what I’ve been thinking,” Noah murmured.
His reply made her turn her head slightly over her shoulder, and caught him staring at her instead.
He made her smile, barely. And submitting, she kissed him on his lips before resting back against his chest.
Time slipped by.
When Noah noticed her shivering, he helped her down and took her hand. They walked back to the center of town, the glow of restaurant signs reflected in puddles along the pavement.
On the way, unable to hold it any longer, he asked quietly, “You okay?”
Lia nodded, but he could feel the weight of her silence. He didn’t want to say anything else, fearful that it might take things in a different direction. Maybe that’s why she was being quiet, too.
So he stuck to his plan, knowing that once they were back at the hotel, he would be doing the one thing he knew he couldn’t fuck up.
Back in their room, they discarded their jackets, leaving them over the chair at the desk. Lia was walking straight to the balcony, as if she hadn’t had enough of the sea yet, but Noah caught her wrist and forced her to turn.
“Hey.” With slow steps, he closed the distance between them. His hand reached her cheek, still cold, the tip of her nose slightly red. Her eyes studied him as if it was the first time she was seeing him. With adoration, with endless love. “Are you tired?”
Lia shook her head slowly. The tip of her tongue darted out to wet her lips. Her eyes fell to his mouth.
“After twelve hours of sleep, trust me, I can still go on for another few.”
And with that statement, she grabbed him by the neck of his t-shirt and pulled him down to her, standing on her tiptoes to help herself reach his mouth.
The way she kissed him was desperate. Hungry. It felt like the entire day had been building up to that moment because Noah reciprocated just the same, grabbing her face and then her hair and then everywhere. He was intoxicated by her, by the way she pulled him down to her, the way she breathed hard against him and didn’t care if she was running out of oxygen. She didn’t want a single inch of space between them because he was, actually, the air she breathed.
There was so little patience that their kisses turned sloppy, but that didn’t stop them. If anything, it gave Lia some direction to grab the hem of his t-shirt and pull upwards.
Noah’s arms were in the air instantly, letting her remove the piece of clothing. Discarded on the floor. Then her hands were all over his chest, feeling, adoring, seducing.
Her heels touched the ground again, her lips finding soft spots along Noah’s jaw and neck, the masculine moan that escaped through his lips making the spot between her legs damp.
When Lia kissed his chest and pressed her mouth against one of his nipples, Noah cursed. His hand cradled her head, keeping her there for a moment.
“Are you…” he couldn’t speak when Lia’s soft lips dragged along his pecs, licking and nibbling, in tandem with the way her hand pressed against his growing erection, rubbing. “Wearing one of those lingerie sets you bought for the trip?”
Lia’s wet lips traveled from south to north, from his navel to his neck and back to his lips. She kissed him. A wet and passionate kiss. Then she took a step back and gave him a seductive look.
“Why don’t you find out?”
Oh, he was going to find out.
He hooked a finger in the waistband of her jeans, and keeping his defiant gaze on her, pulled her back to him.
With only one hand, he was able to unfasten the button of her jeans, making her almost gasp at the surprise. He hadn’t even looked down. His brown eyes locked on hers.
But his hand didn’t drift inside her trousers, no. It traveled up, flattening over her stomach as he moved it up until it covered one of her breasts.
Lia drew in a sharp breath, not because of the heat of his touch, but because of the way he touched her, like she was something fragile and infinite at once. His palm rested against her, steady and warm, feeling the rhythm of her heartbeat through the thin lace. His thumb traced slow, absent circles around her nipple, and she leaned into it, closing her eyes.
The fabric of her shirt slipped away like a sigh, and for a moment the room seemed to hold its breath.
Her lingerie was a delicate white set of soft lace trimmed with barely-there satin ribbons, the kind of design that set him on fire. She removed her jeans and she stood tall, calm in her vulnerability.
Noah’s gaze softened as he took her in, the lace, the curve of her form, her quiet confidence. Lia’s hair cascaded over her shoulders, catching the faint light.
He extended his hand, and when she placed hers in his, he turned her gently. The movement was slow, almost ceremonial. He needed to take a look at her from all sides.
He stepped forward, close enough that the warmth of his breath brushed her skin. His lips touched her shoulder, a tender, unhurried kiss that spoke more of devotion than desire. She closed her eyes. The world narrowed to the feel of his touch, the slow movement of his hands along her arms, the warmth of his palms spreading through her.
“I love your skin,” he murmured against her, the words a confession carried on his breath. His lips followed the shape of her arm, reverent and steady. When her back met his chest, her wrists resting lightly in his hands, she could feel the weight of his heart.
For Lia, the world had tilted just a little when they’d been walking outside earlier. The evening had been calm, until that word —marriage— slipped in between them.
When she asked Noah what he thought, she’d been unprepared for how uncertain his answer sounded. It hadn’t been bad, just not what she’d hoped for. And she couldn’t even explain what she had hoped for.
Now, though, in the hush of the room, with his breath warm against her skin, those thoughts drifted away, unimportant. His touch wasn’t about promise or definition. It was about presence. About now.
She felt his lips trail slowly along her shoulder, his hands mapping the length of her arms. His touch filled all the hollow spaces inside her that fear had carved out earlier. Every movement said what words never could.
The ache of uncertainty melted into something quieter, something truer. She didn’t need forever, not tonight. She just needed this: his devotion, his attention, his love written in every motion.
Lia tilted her head to the side, granting him permission. Noah swept her hair over her opposite shoulder, his touch lingering for a moment before his lips found the curve of her neck. The warmth of each kiss spread through her like a slow-burning spark, quiet but consuming. When he reached her ear, his breath brushed against her skin.
Then his voice deepened, “I want to blindfold you,” he murmured.
The words threaded through her like electricity. A shiver ran the length of her spine, her eyes flying open in surprise.
“Okay,” her voice was so small she wasn’t sure he’d heard her.
But then he was moving to their suitcases, granting her a view of him walking barefoot, shirtless, with only his jeans on. She bit her lip. Her hands were desperate to reach for him and touch him again, grab him, pleasure him.
When the turned, he had a silk red rope on his hands. It was shorter than the ones he used to tie her up, but it sent the same thrill through her.
Lia took a step to him, as if on command. He would cover her eyes and then guide her to the bed. This time, however, he shook his head.
“Turn around,” he instructed. “And bend over. Hands on the mattress, feet on the ground.”
Two seconds was all it took her to picture herself in that position before she actually moved to the bed and bend over the edge. In that position, her ass, only covered in a thin thong, was lifted, exposed to him. And that was exactly where Noah was looking at.
With his free hand, he touched her, softly, caressing the delicate skin of her backside. He bent down to kiss her spine. One kiss. Two kisses. Three. His hand moving gently around, from her ass to her waist and then to her belly and slightly lower.
“Lia.”
“Hmm?” She had closed her eyes and hadn’t even realized. She was starting to lose herself to him. It didn’t take him much.
“I love you.”
The way he said it made her skin raise with goosebumps. She hummed contentedly, her body arching to him, asking for more, teasing him.
Kisses to her shoulder, hands caressing her arms, warmth breath against her ear.
“I love these little sets you wear for me,” he whispered, his fingers running through the bra straps.
Lia would have replied something hadn’t it been for the fact that Noah’s voice, so close to her, so low, as his fingers worked her body, made her forget her own language.
Another kiss pressed to her earlobe, to her cheek. And then the blindfold was around her eyes, blocking the view. Noah tied it at the back of her head.
“Safe word?” he asked, fingers still toying with the ends of the silk rope.
“Ume,” Lia breathed.
“Good.” With a single pull, the knot tightened and he wasn’t touching her anymore. The loss of his warmth was immediate, and the sudden absence of him and his adoration for her made her ache. “I’m going to open the window.”
Blindfolded, Lia’s world narrowed to sound and sensation. The click of the balcony doors unlocking. Night air drifting in. Curtains billowing.
“I know it’s cold,” he said, voice washing over her, “but you won’t be for long. I promise.”
A sigh of salt-kissed wind enveloped her, carrying the rhythmic crash of waves into the room. She heard him rummage, then the soft thud of something being dropped on the mattress next to her.
Her intuition hummed.
He’d taken out one of the sex toys from their suitcases.
His hands returned, his bugle pressed against her backside, the rough fabric of his jeans adding to the sensations spreading through her veins.
“When I’m inside you,” he murmured, his lips close to her ear, “I want you to focus on the waves. I’m going to make love to you to the rhythm of the tide.”
Her stomach sank, in a good way, and as if on cue, her hands fisted in the sheets.
“Spread your legs.” It was a command. His knees were already nudging them apart. “Good girl…”
The word descended into a whisper as his hand slid down the curve of her ass, over her thigh. Then another thud. This time, it was Noah.
He’d dropped down to his knees.
He was kneeling right behind her.
Lia’s breathing quickened.
His lips pressed a hot kiss to her backside, his fingers tracing the flimsy barrier of her thong before pushing the fabric aside.
A moment later, his mouth found her pussy.
“Oh my—!” Her body jerked, a sharp gasp catching in her throat.
His tongue darted out, licking, once, twice, tasting, savoring her. His lips closed around her clit. He sucked. He was learning the map of her pleasure with each tremor and gasp, all over again. Every time.
The power to unravel her so completely filled him with a fierce, possessive joy. This was what she needed: to be pulsed from the prison of her mind and into a realm of pure pleasure, where there was no space for doubt, only the undeniable truth of his worship. After the strained silence of their walk, this was necessary. She needed to be taken out of her own mind.
His hands cupped her backside, his tongue tracing a path that made her shudder. He could feel her pleasure escalating with every movement, a tangible force in the room. Within minutes, she collapsed onto her elbows, her moans no longer stifled but pouring forth as she fisted the sheets with force.
He knew her body like his own at this point, but every gasp and tremor taught him something new. There was a time he feared his own needs would be too much, but Lia had not just accepted them; she had surrendered to them, and in doing so, had claimed him entirely.
As her hips began to roll against him, seeking more pressure, more of his magic, he answered by letting his hand wander to her breast, slid under the lace fabric with a touch firm and possessive on her skin, on her nipple. He could never have enough of this.
Just when she thought he would take her over the edge, he pulled away, his breath heavy too. Had she been able to see, she would’ve seen his glossy lips, coated with her slick. Noah dragged his tongue over his lips to collect the remains of her.
He stood and stared at her form, bent over the bed, blindfolded, in a sexy lingerie set, body arched to him.
Fuck, was she perfect.
A perfect offering. His need to make her his once again, connecting his body to hers, was driving him mad. His erection pressing hard against his jeans.
His desire for her was a constant, humming current, a reel of obscene and tender scenarios that played in his mind without cease. It was triggered by the quiet, domestic poetry of her existence, the way she wandered in worn clothes around the house or how she transformed herself into a character from a fantasy with kitty ears perched on her head. In every possible way, she was a walking dream, and he was lost in the landscape of her.
He slid her panties down, let them pool at her feet.
Then, he kneeled one knee on the bed, his hand on the lower back of Lia’s body. He ran a hand over her back, watching her body’s reaction, her hair splayed on the bed, head down.
Lia loved the way he pleasured her, including these moments of silence and just soft touches.
It didn’t last long, though, because his hand slid down her ass again, and his fingers found her wetness. He felt her, touching, prodding, then two of his digits sank into her.
“If it gets too much,” he reminded her, “say your safe word.”
Lia swallowed, managing a husky, “Okay”.
A second after, his mouth placed a kiss on her spine, and his fingers started moving. First, in an out, teasing her, adjusting to her inside, then building like a crescendo, the rhythm changing, increasing, intensifying to an up-and-down movement, turning her moans into fractured helpless screams. Her entire body was his to command, at his mercy.
The sight of her, so pliant and vulnerable sent another jolt of pure, possessive adrenaline through him. Noah’s muscles corded, the tendons in his neck standing in stark relief as he fought to maintain his control. A fine sheen of sweat bloomed across his back, a mirror to the beautiful, betraying heat that bloomed across her chest back. He was the cliff face against which her pleasure broke.
Time dissolved into a haze of sensation. She didn’t register when he replaced his fingers with his cock, discarding his jeans and boxers as fast as he could and sheathing himself in a condom with frantic hands. He thrust into her, his grunts mingling with her cries, his hands possessive on her hips. She felt like heaven, and after worshipping her so obscenely, his own control was fraying.
He stilled, breathing hard, his length throbbing inside her. Lia mewled in protest.
He tried to push his hair back, but his locks refused to stay in place, no matter how many times he tried.
“Lia,” he panted, his hands tight on her. He drew a deep breath, the sea air filling his lungs. “Focus on the waves.”
With his words, the world narrowed to the rhythm of the sea and the rhythm of them.
The first sound to break through was a long, soft hushhhh, and Noah moved inside of her at the same pace.
As he began to move, it was with the same timeless pull of the tide. It felt as if the ocean was breathing with them. Wave after wave, crash after crash. A glorious symphony.
When there was a sudden surge, Noah pulled Lia up. Her back collided with the solid warmth of his chest, his arms enveloping her. The world tilted and the sound of the waves continued to match the frantic, beautiful pace of their joining.
His hands were at her head, fingers tangling in the silk. With almost desperate haste, he removed the blindfold, letting it fall to the floor. Moonlight swam before Lia’s eyes. One of Noah’s hands wrapped around her middle, anchoring her to him, while the other cupped her jaw, tilting her face to his.
His kiss was not soft, but claiming, lips and tongue and teeth and all.
When it broke, his hand slid from her jaw down her throat. His other hand found the toy left waiting on the rumpled sheets.
The distant roar of the next wave began to build, and as it climbed to the shore, so did the new vibrating sensation he brought to her bud of nerves with the toy, a counterpoint to his deep, steady rhythm inside of her.
The wave crested, hanging for a moment in a breathless suspension.
And then it broke.
The world dissolved into a deafening, glorious crash of water and sensation. A sob tore from her throat as she came utterly, completely undone, her body convulsing against his, her name a ragged prayer on his lips. He dropped the toy and held Lia through the shattering, his arms a fortress as she fractured.
“I’ve got you,” he breathed into her hair. “I’ve got you.”
As the great wave spent itself in a hiss of foam and her own tremors began to subside, he whispered, his voice strained with the effort of his own control, “Just give me one more minute.”
And in one minute, he released with a quiet yet powerful tremor, spiling himself in the condom, his entire body shuddering with the force of it, holding her so tightly it felt as if their souls might bleed into one.
The return of the tide seemed hushed now, smooth, as if the shore was holding it as Noah held her, and Lia returned to herself slowly, anchoring herself in the solid reality of her and Noah. Of him.
They lay tangled in the sheets later, facing one another. A soft, giddy joke bubbled within Lia, a lightness that had washed all previous tension away, leaving their minds smooth as sea glass. She reached out, her finger tracing the strong line of his jaw, his temple, the shell of his ear.
“It’d be nice to sleep with the windows open,” Noah whispered, his voice a low rumble in the quiet room. “To have the sound of the ocean in the background.”
“We’ll get cold,” Lia murmured, ever practical, thought she wouldn’t mind, really.
Noah pulled her flush against him, their noses touching, sharing the same breath. “We’ll keep each other warm.”
He smiled against her mouth before sealing his words with a kiss. Soft. Delicate. A slow lingering exchange that tasted of peace.
“Will you show me what you’ve been sketching?” he asked a moment later, rubbing his nose against hers in an Eskimo kiss.
“It’s not much,” she demurred, tucking herself closer. “Give me a few more days. This place is beautiful, there’s so much to see.”
She nudged a leg between his, a familiar, comfortable fit, and then shifted down to settle her head in the hollow of his chest, right under his chin. He cocooned her in his arms without a second thought, pulling the covers up to their shoulders, creating a world for two.
“Take all the time you need,” he whispered into her hair. He pressed a final, lingering kiss to her crown, closed his eyes, and let the distant hush of the sea finally, completely, lull them both.
— previous chapter | chapter thirty-two
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