Page 26 of Wrap Me Up

I most certainly do not. I give Noel a questioning look, but Orny answers the question.

“Seven minutes in heaven!”

What?

The crowd shuffles Noel and me towards a door I hadn’t noticed. It’s painted blue with clouds and a golden gate. A count down timer flashes bright red numbers. It’s set for seven minutes. Someone opens the door and shoves us in.

Neither of us has our footing, and I fall on top of Noel. We’re a tangle of limbs until I push to my feet. It’s low lighting in the closet. A couple of plush pillows scattered around. A bowl of condoms, because of course there is. And a trashcan by the door.

I’m still getting my bearings when Noel traps me against the back wall, one hand on each side of my head. We’re staring at each other. His green eyes are so dark in the lighting they’re almost black, but not threatening. I taste the tequila on his breath.

“You know I’d follow you anywhere. You didn’t have to do this to make out for a few minutes.”

“Oh, this was just for fun.”

I’m so intent on watching him that I don’t notice he’s moved. His hands slide under my shirt, teasing over my nipples. I melt into the touch.

He dips his head, flicking his tongue against my nipple through the fabric. Soaking it through. Lust filled eyes watch my every reaction and give the same treatment to my other nip. I’m pretty much a puddle.

Noel’s nails dig into my hips. He grinds against me, rubbing the packer just right. He’s not shy about finding a rhythm. I yank him by his shirt and turn the tables on him, using momentum to press him to the wall. I run my hand along his hardness. He leans his head back with a moan, and doesn’t stop me.

I want to drop and take him in my mouth. But refrain. What he’s doing to my nipples is amazing.

He cups my bulge and gives me something to thrust against. The entirety of my mind freezes at the sexy smirk on his face.

“You’re so ready for me, aren’t you, Tinsel?” His thumb makes tiny circles across my other nipple. He really has this nipple business down.

“Please,” I beg.

“Please, what?”

“Everything.”

He adds pressure to my packer, letting me rock against him. I cling to him, digging my nails into his back. He’s the only thing keeping me upright.

“Do. Not. Stop.”

Someone bangs on the door, startling me. “Ten. Nine. Eight….”

No. It can’t have been seven minutes. Not yet.

Noel grins. “Not here. When we really enjoy ourselves again, it won’t be on scratchy orange carpet and gross decorative pillows.” He pulls away, making me groan. Then he licks his fingers.

“I don’t care where, as long as we do have a next time.”

Noel leans in as if to kiss me, but pulls back again. “Not. Here.” Still teasing. The bastard.

I slide down the wall, my legs too jelly to function. I adjust everything back to where it goes.

The door swings open, something flashes in our faces. Someone shoves something in my hands, and we’re yanked out of the room for someone else to be thrown in.

A picture. Someone took a Polaroid of our supposed to be O faces. I crack up at the thought of it.

Snow passes us more shots. This time, it’s not tequila. I don’t know what it is, but it’s sweet. I like it.

Someone’s singing Hungry Like the Wolf, and I’m not surprised to find that it’s Dylan.

“So…” Snow raises his eyebrows. “Did you?”

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