The Girl I Once Loved: Love & Hate Duet

No words. Just us. Just this.

It’s my refrain over the next week.

As Noah and I…fuck constantly.

“Kiss me,” he demands as his hands cradle my face. It feels far too intense, him staring at me like this, so I close my eyes.

He pulls gently on my hair. “Eyes open, baby,” he orders, and I can’t help but listen.

Noah’s lips close over mine, his tongue dipping in and tangling with my own. Fuck. I missed the taste of him.

I don’t know how I’ve lived without it.

I feel lightheaded when he pulls away, the room spinning around us. There’s an empty ache inside of me as he leans forward to taste me once again. I whimper, pulling at his hair as I move against his leg, trying to get some type of friction to ease the pain.

I’m desperate for him. It’s been like that since the beginning though, hasn’t it? I just expected time would change that.

How foolish was I to think that if I showed up at his door, and just fucked him once, it would be out of my system for good. A final goodbye that we never really had.

I’d been such a fool.

Noah deepens the kiss, holding me in place as he licks at my mouth. His other hand has moved to my ass, and he’s kneading it possessively as he rocks my body against his. There’s no hesitation in his touch. Every graze of his hands feels like he’s staking his claim. Making me his.

And I don’t know what to think about that.

So I’m not thinking about it at all.

No words. Just us. Just this.

His hand slides between my legs, his fingers rubbing against the seam of my leggings. “Fuck, you’ve soaked your pants. What a good girl,” he purrs.

And another gush of wet heat floods my panties.

“Tell me you want me, and I’ll let you come,” he growls as his hand pulls my leggings down.

I’m up against the wall in my bedroom. He’d come home for lunch and apparently the only thing on the menu he craved was me.

“I want you,” I cry out as his fingers slide over my panties, massaging my clit. He bites down on my ear and I moan, leaning my head back against the wall as he licks and sucks from my ear, down my neck, until his tongue is tracing the lining of my shirt.

“Please, please, please,” I beg, and he pulls away to grin at me wickedly.

“Arms up,” he demands, and like a puppet, I follow his command. As soon as my arms are up, he’s sliding my shirt off and unhooking my bra so my breasts spill out.

“Fuck, these are perfect,” he rasps as his lips immediately latch on to my nipples. His mouth closes over one, sucking hard. I buck backwards from the sensation, a small orgasm fluttering through me.

“Yes, Yes, Yes,” I chant as he moves to the other breast. His teeth lightly bite down, and I’m not sure I’ll survive the pleasure.

Noah reaches between us and unbuttons his pants, and then he rips away my tiny thong like it’s nothing.

I don’t care that I’ll have to go underwear shopping after this week. He can rip away as long as it leaves me feeling this good, every time.

His lips release my nipple and then he positions his wide crown at my opening, maintaining eye contact the entire time he’s pushing inside me. His hands hold my hips in place so I have no choice but to feel every glorious inch of him.

“Noah,” I cry out as I take him deeper.

“Fuck,” he groans as if he’s in physical pain. “You’re taking me so good.”

Another push and he’s flush against me. With this angle, I can barely breathe with how full I feel. Full of him.

It’s the best feeling on earth.

“Please fuck me,” I whimper.

“Whatever you want, baby,” he says roughly as he withdraws slightly before thrusting inside me hard. I whimper, and the sound seems to egg him on. His grip tightens on my hips and he starts fucking me with a desperate hunger…a hunger that echoes my own. Each impact reverberates through my entire body. His face is strained…determined as he pulls in and out.

His gaze catches on my breasts again, and he leans down to suck on my nipple while he continues to fuck in and out of me. Noah gives it a few more licks before his hand takes over, cupping and kneading my chest, his thumb teasing my sensitive nipples.

“You set the pace, sweetheart. Fuck me just how you want,” he urges as he stares down at me, his hand continuing to work magic on my breasts.

At this point, my legs are wrapped around his waist, his free hand holding me up by my ass.

His grip loosens and I start to ride him, using my legs to fuck myself on his perfect dick.

“That’s my girl. Use me. Fuck that tight pussy on my cock.”

His words, his dick…him…have me absolutely dripping, and I scream as I come, the pleasure almost violent, because it’s so good.

“Fuck,” Noah groans. But he doesn’t come. I’ve learned this week that, like in high school, his stamina is absolutely incredible.

I don’t want to think about how that is.

His mouth engulfs my nipple, sucking even harder as I start to work him in and out of me once again.

Every pass of his dick inside of me is exquisite torture, every nerve ending on fire. His cock rubs perfectly against my clit every time.

My hips thrust recklessly as he continues to mouth dirty words against my skin.

“Baby,” he rasps, before suddenly halting me in place. He catches my cries with a kiss and carries me over to my bed.

Noah hovers over me, his cock still firmly sheathed inside my core. He smooths sweaty hair from my face and places a soft kiss against my lips that has my heart squeezing in my chest.

It’s not supposed to feel this way.

It’s not supposed to feel like we’re drowning in each other.

Like we’re two halves of the same whole.

It’s not supposed to feel like we’re in love.

He spreads my knees wide, so I feel the stretch, before he pushes further inside. At this angle, it’s almost too much, and my head thrashes back and forth as I lose the ability to breathe.

“Breathe, sweetheart. I’ve got you,” he growls as he pushes in and out of me. “You’re so fucking tight.”

His lips mold against mine, our breaths one as he moves.

“It’s too much,” I cry, a tear sliding down my cheek.

“I know, baby. I know,” he cajoles as he kisses away my tear. “Eyes on me, Sky.”

My gaze snaps to his, flinching at all the emotion in their depths. I don’t want it to be like this.

I can’t have it be like this.

But what do I do with the fact that it already is?

How am I ever going to live without this again?

And it’s not just the sex. It’s the back and forth of our breaths, the way my soul is finally sitting calmly in my chest after years of hurting and wanting him back.

“Baby, just let go,” he whispers, his hand holding my neck loosely, his thumb tracing against my fluttering pulse. He feels so tight inside me. So good. Like all the emptiness I’ve had all these years has finally been filled.

And there’s the fact that we haven’t used protection once this week. And we haven’t talked about it once since that initial “I’m clean” conversation.

I’m old enough to know better.

Just because I’m on the pill and he is adamant that he’s clean, doesn’t exactly mean I’m safe.

But I can’t find it in myself to care.

I cling to him, taking in his scent, the feel of his skin against my hands, the brush of his hair against my face as he fucks into me.

Except it feels a lot less like fucking at the moment…and a lot more like…

No—I wasn’t going to go there.

“Get out of your head, little stalker,” he growls as he bites down on my lower lip. “Rub your clit. Get yourself there.”

I immediately obey his order, my hand slipping between us, rubbing at my clit, and pleasure bubbles up inside me. He glances down between us, watching as if entranced as his dick slides in and out, my core sucking him in deep every time.

Noah’s expression is determined, focused, like he’s trying to memorize the sight of our bodies becoming one.

“You fucking own me,” he growls, the veins in his neck pronounced as he starts to thrust harder, like he’s trying to imprint the feel of his dick in my womb.

I wish I owned him.

Like how he seems to own me.

The thought is terrifying. So like everything else I’m feeling at the moment…

I push it away.

“Come for me, baby,” he says roughly, and within seconds, my insides are tightening around his dick, an orgasm spiraling through me, so intense that the edges of my vision darken as the pleasure overcomes me.

“Oh fuck!” he cries out, suddenly pulling out of me. His hand works his cock furiously, and a second later, hot cum is shooting out, spraying all over my belly and breasts.

Noah’s chest is heaving as he takes it in, a dark, possessive gleam in his gaze. He rubs the cum into my skin, spreading it all over until my entire chest…my entire stomach, is covered in him. Noah takes the last remnants of it and pushes it inside me, sending little tremors of pleasure pulsing through me as his fingers fuck in and out of me lazily.

He leans forward and brushes a soft, tender kiss on my lips that’s at odds with how intense everything was just moments before.

Noah collapses next to me, his fingers still inside me for a few more moments before he pulls them out, brings them to his lips, and while still holding eye contact with me—licks all of me…and some of him…off.

“Wow,” I mutter, unsure why that seems so freaking hot to me.

“Wow is right. You taste delicious,” he grins, looking so handsome, it feels like my heart is breaking just staring at him.

It’s not really fair to my heart that my vagina can’t get enough of him.

“Tell me about your favorite memory from the last seven years,” he suddenly says, and I blink in surprise…and wariness.

This is supposed to be about sex. Talking about…things…seems like a dangerous path.

He has one hand propping up his head, his muscles bulging, and his finger is softly tracing my skin in a lazy, smooth pattern.

Nothing about his gaze is lazy though, he’s staring at me with so much interest, so much care, that I can’t help but talk.

“Hmmm. My favorite memory…that’s a hard thing to decide on.”

“So tell me a couple,” he says.

“Well, there was freshman year Homecoming. All the freshmen would paint their faces, and wear green and white, and then we’d run around a giant bonfire while the upperclassmen cheered and yelled at us.” I giggled as I thought about that night. “It sounds silly, but it was the first time at school that I really felt a part of something. I swear they brainwashed you that night because you bled green from there on out.”

“I bet you looked cute,” he murmured, his attention still rapt on me.

“I didn’t look cute afterwards, when I got so drunk at one of the frats that I threw up all over myself.”

He snorted. “Hard to imagine Skyler Ames drinking herself silly.”

The grin on my lips fades. Because at one point, I thought we’d share all our memories from there on out. And yet, here we were, seven years later…practically strangers.

Except when we were having sex, a little voice nags. Because our bodies sure remember how to do that.

“Okay you said you had more,” he prods, his tone almost urgent, like he can sense the direction of my thoughts and is trying to distract me.

“What’s another memory…maybe initiation night at my sorority.”

“Ahh, yes. Who knew you’d be a sorority sister,” he teases.

“Were you keeping tabs on me, good sir?”

His eyes flash with something that looks an awful lot like…pain. “When I could bear it,” he finally admits on a whisper.

Now I’m the one hurrying on, not able to bear the ache in his voice.

“They woke us up in the middle of the night and shoved a blindfold over our eyes, and then they took us to do all these random things around campus, until we ended up in the house basement, Madonna’s Like A Prayer blaring as we had a massive dance party. A night you would never forget.”

My smile is fond as I go down memory lane. College was about breaking free from the box I’d put myself in while growing up, and all through high school. I was able to be anyone I wanted to be. Not Daisy’s sister. Not Noah…something. Not a bookworm. Not a wallflower.

Something new.

And I’d taken advantage of it. I’d gone to the parties, I’d been a part of the clubs, I’d done a foreign exchange semester in Barcelona…I’d even joined a secret society.

Leaving college, I’d actually been proud of who I was.

Not something I had experienced much growing up.

“I lied the other day,” he says, pulling me forward so that I was lying on his chest instead of looking at his face.

“Lied about what?” I ask warily.

“About how fucking proud I am of you. An Ivy League Graduate. Tons of successful books under your belt. Making your own money. Paving your own way.”

My cheeks grow warm at his compliment, because compliments from Noah…well, he doesn’t give them often. It feels more significant than compliments from other people because of how rarely he gives them.

“Thank you,” I whisper, nuzzling into his chest, wishing that it didn’t feel so right, so perfect, to be in his arms.

“You were right though,” I muse, copying him by tracing a pattern across his etched abs…abs I’d run my tongue over several times this week.

“About what?”

“I thought I left being scared behind. But really, I’ve still been hiding all these years. I’m—I’m trying to work on that.”

“I’m still trying to work on shit too,” he replies, and there is that ache again.

No words. Just us. Just this. I chant in my head, trying to ingrain it in my spine, so I don’t get too attached, so I don’t forget how much he hurt me.

But as I lay there on his chest, our hands running hungrily over each other’s bodies, I’m afraid that my heart has decided not to listen to any goddamn order I give it.