World Apocalypse: Apocalust

Chapter 52: Chapter LII - Full-Sized Bed

Warm light from the overhead attic window spilled across the narrow bed, illuminating the space where Noah gently lowered Sage onto the quilt. Her hair fanned out across the fabric like scattered embers, catching the soft glow as the mattress dipped beneath their combined weight.

The springs gave a quiet, rhythmic creak beneath them, but neither paid it any mind.

Fingers tangled in the hem of the borrowed shirt, drawing it upward in a slow reveal. Thighs, hips, the curve of her waist—until the cotton cleared her head and joined the growing pile of discarded clothing on the floor.

Pale skin glowed in the afternoon light, flushed and waiting, marked only by fading tan lines and the rapid rise and fall of her breath.

Noah paused above her, suddenly overwhelmed by the sight. Sage, laid bare and wanting, her green eyes heavy-lidded with desire, her lips parted and swollen from his work.

The new strength in his arms trembled not from exertion but from restraint, from the effort of going slow when every instinct urged him to bury himself in her heat and forget the world existed beyond this room.

"You’re staring," she whispered.

"Memorizing," he corrected.

His palm settled against her stomach, feeling the subtle jump of muscle beneath his touch and the warmth radiating through her skin. It drifted lower, unhurried, tracing the curve of her hip and the sensitive hollow of her inner thigh until his knuckles brushed the dampness there. Sage’s breath caught at the lingering contact.

Arching upward, Sage sought more contact, her own hands busy with the fastenings of his pants, urgent and clumsy with need.

"Off," she demanded, her voice breathy.

So he listened. Fabric rustled, buttons slipped free, and the last barriers between them fell away. A sharp intake of breath caught in her throat as he drew closer; her fingers curled around him, testing the weight and rigid heat against her palm. His impressive length throbbed against her skin, the velvety skin stretched taut over steel-hard flesh.

"Okay, hold on," she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper, thumb brushing the sensitive ridge and drawing a shudder from him. A bead of moisture gathered at the tip, and she spread it slowly with her thumb, feeling him pulse against her touch.

"You’re—"

A shaky laugh escaped her, breathless and awed, her gaze dropping between them before lifting back to his eyes, dark with need. Her own body responded, heat pooling low in her belly, slickness gathering between her thighs as she imagined how he would feel stretching her, filling her completely.

"I didn’t know they made them like you."

"I could say the same thing about you, princess."

Noah settled between her, the weight of him welcomed by the arch of her back and her heels digging into the small of his spine.

"I thought we weren’t..." she gasped, her voice breaking as Noah’s warm palm enveloped the soft weight of her breast. His fingers skillfully circled the sensitive peak before giving it a sharp pinch that sent electric currents straight to her core. Her back arched involuntarily, pressing herself more firmly against his touch as he rolled the hardened nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

"..gonna make that a thing."

Their eyes locked under the warm undertones of the daylight.

"Who decided that?"

Sage’s lips curled into a smile.

"Fuck you."

Noah smirked.

"Wasn’t that the plan?"

Their mouths found each other again, hungrier now, less careful, while his hand slipped between them to guide, to prepare, to make sure. His fingers traced the slick folds, testing her readiness before circling her clit with deliberate pressure that made her hips buck against his hand.

Sage gasped against his jaw, her nails scoring his shoulders, her body rising to meet him.

"Noah..."

Noah’s fingers lingered at her opening, tracing slow, deliberate circles that made her hips roll despite herself. He watched her face with open fascination, learning every hitch in her breath, every flutter of her lashes.

"You’re quiet," he observed, his voice dropping low, threaded with satisfaction. "That’s new."

Sage arched a brow, though her breathing came shallow and quick. "I’m concentrating."

"On what?" He pressed down, finding exactly the right spot, watching her lips part on a gasp. "On not falling apart?"

"On not killing you," she breathed, but her fingers threaded through his hair, pulling him closer rather than pushing away.

He grinned against her throat, dipping lower to press warm, unhurried kisses down her collarbone, then the swell of her breast, closing around the peaked nipple with a suction that arched her back completely off the mattress.

One hand pinned her hip to the bed while the other continued its torment below, sliding through her folds with deliberate patience, pleased with every shivering response, every gasped curse that fell from her tongue.

"You’re taking your time," she noted, her voice strained.

The taste of her skin lingered on his tongue as he rose over her, trailing open-mouthed kisses down the center of her stomach, past her navel, feeling the muscles quiver beneath his lips.

"Learned that patience pays off." He settled his shoulders between her thighs, spreading her open to the warm light, to his hungry gaze. "And I’m enjoying myself."

"Beautiful," he breathed, watching her flush deepen, watching her hands fly to cover herself before he caught her wrists and pinned them to the mattress.

"A little too late for modesty, aren’t we?"

The first stroke of his tongue made her cry out, a sharp, broken sound that echoed off the walls. Another, deeper, savoring the sweetness of her, feeling her thighs tremble against his shoulders, her heels digging into his back. He worked her slowly, mercilessly, listening for the hitch in her breathing, the moment her hips stuttered upward seeking more pressure, more contact, more everything.

Sage’s head tossed against the pillow, red hair a wild tangle, her body tightening like a bowstring under his mouth.

"Close—I’m—Noah—"

Her fingers tightened in his hair, her usual sarcasm dissolving into broken sounds she couldn’t quite swallow.

He didn’t pull back. Instead, he doubled his efforts, his tongue finding the rhythm that made her see stars, his hands gripping her hips to keep her steady as she shattered. Her release crashed through her with a cry that echoed off the rafters, her back bowing off the mattress, her thighs clamping around his head as she rode out the waves of pleasure against his mouth.

Only when she went limp, her chest heaving, her eyes glazed and unfocused, did he crawl back up her body with deliberate slowness, watching the satisfaction and renewed need war in her expression. His hand replaced his tongue, fingers sinking into her sensitive heat, curling to find the spot that made her jolt again.

"You think you can go another round?"

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!