One Shot Wonders Part 2

Just one night pt 1

The evening air was thick with the scent of damp earth and distant rain, the kind that clung to skin and made everything feel heavier, more alive. The park bench beneath Iris creaked softly as she shifted, her fingers tracing idle patterns on the worn wood. The theater across the street hummed with the muffled laughter and music of a crowd, its neon sign casting a flickering pink glow over the pavement. She hadn’t meant to stay this late, just a quick walk after work, a moment to breathe but now, with the night wrapping around her like a second skin, she didn’t want to leave.

Noah sat beside her, close enough that the heat of his body bled into the space between them, close enough that she could catch the faint, warm scent of his cologne, something rich and spiced, like cedar and clove. He had that way of occupying space without dominating it, his presence steady, unhurried. His thigh brushed hers when he stretched his arm along the back of the bench, fingers curling just shy of her shoulder. The contact was accidental, or maybe not. Iris held her breath.

Then his hand moved.

It was just the barest graze, the back of his knuckles skimming over hers where they rested on the bench. A spark, sharp and sudden, shot up her arm, as if someone had struck a match against her skin. Her fingers twitched, not pulling away, not quite daring to lean into it. The warmth of him seeped into her, spreading like melted honey through her veins. She had never felt anything like it, this instant, electric rightness, as if her body had been waiting for this exact touch her entire life.

Noah didn’t pull back. His fingers lingered, then turned, palm up, an unspoken invitation. Iris exhaled, slow and shaky, and let her hand settle against his. His skin was rough in places, callouses from years of playing guitar, she remembered and impossibly warm. The moment their palms fully connected, a current ran between them, so strong she swore she saw it in the air, a shimmering thread of gold. Her pulse jumped, her breath catching in her throat.

She looked at him.

Noah was already watching her, his dark eyes burning with an intensity that made her stomach clench. There was no hesitation in his gaze, no question, just a quiet, absolute certainty that mirrored the fire now curling low in her belly. His lashes were thick, casting shadows over his sharp cheekbones, and his mouth.. crap, his mouth was slightly parted, as if he were already tasting her. The air between them grew thicker, charged, like the moment before a storm breaks.

Iris wet her lips.

Noah’s gaze dropped to her mouth, and his fingers tightened around hers, just for a second. Then he leaned in.

It wasn’t a slow movement, not teasing, it was deliberate, inevitable, like gravity pulling them together. His breath fanned over her lips, warm and sweet with the faintest hint of whiskey. Iris’s heart hammered against her ribs, her body arching toward him without conscious thought. She could feel the heat rolling off him in waves, could see the way his pupils dilated, swallowing the dark brown of his irises until there was nothing left but black, endless depth.

His free hand lifted, fingers brushing the curve of her jaw. The touch was feather-light, but it sent a shudder through her, her n*****s tightening beneath the thin fabric of her blouse. His thumb grazed the corner of her mouth, tracing the shape of her lower lip with excruciating slowness. Iris made a sound, soft, needy, something between a whimper and a sigh and his breath hitched in response.

“f**k,” he murmured, his voice rough, like gravel under slow footsteps. “Iris.”

Her name on his lips was a revelation. It wasn’t just the way he said it, low, reverent, like a prayer, but the way it felt, vibrating through her bones, settling deep in her core. She had heard her name a thousand times, but never like this. Never as if it were the only word that mattered.

“Noah,” she whispered back, her voice trembling.

His thumb pressed just a little harder against her lips, parting them. “Tell me you feel it too.”

She didn’t have to ask what it was. She could taste it in the air, the crackling energy, the way her skin hummed where he touched her, the way her body ached, empty and hungry, for something only he could give. Her thighs pressed together, the friction doing nothing to ease the throb between them.

“I feel it,” she breathed.

His eyes darkened further, his grip on her hand bordering on possessive. “Good.”

Then his mouth was on hers.

It wasn’t a kiss, it was a claiming. His lips crashed into hers with a desperation that stole the air from her lungs, his tongue sweeping inside the moment she gasped. He tasted like sin and warmth, like the first sip of wine on a cold night, and Iris melted into him, her free hand flying to his chest. The muscle beneath his shirt was hard, his heartbeat slamming against her palm in a rhythm that matched her own frantic pulse.

Noah groaned into her mouth, the sound vibrating through her, and his hand slid from her jaw to tangle in her hair, fingers tightening just enough to tilt her head, deepening the angle. His teeth grazed her lower lip, nipping before soothing the sting with his tongue, and Iris moaned, her nails digging into his chest through the fabric of his shirt. She could feel the ridge of his erection pressing against her thigh, thick and insistent, and the knowledge that he was just as affected as she was sent a fresh wave of heat pooling between her legs.

The world narrowed to this…his mouth, his hands, the way his breath hitched when she arched into him, the way his thighs spread just enough to let her settle closer. The bench was too small, the night too short; she wanted to crawl into his lap, wanted to feel the weight of him pressing her down, wanted to burn with him.

Noah’s hand left her hair, sliding down her side, his palm branding her through the thin fabric of her blouse. His fingers found the hem and slipped beneath, calloused tips grazing the bare skin of her waist. Iris jerked against him, a broken sound tearing from her throat. His touch was fire, searing a path upward, his thumb brushing the underside of her breast, so close to where she needed him.

“Noah, please,” she begged against his lips, her hips rolling involuntarily, seeking friction.

He growled, the sound feral, and his hand cupped her breast, his thumb flicking over her n****e through the lace of her bra. The sensation arced straight to her c**t, and Iris cried out, her back arching. His mouth swallowed the sound, his kiss turning brutal, punishing, as if he could devour her whole.

“You’re mine,” he snarled between kisses, his voice a dark promise. “Aren’t you, Iris? Say it.”

She was. She was. The truth of it settled into her bones, into the very marrow of her, as undeniable as the air in her lungs. She had known him for weeks, but this… this fire, this need… it was older than time. It was written in the stars.

“Yours,” she gasped, her hands fumbling at the buttons of his shirt, needing to feel his skin, to mark him as he was marking her. “YES, Noah, I’m yours.”

His answering groan was raw, triumphant, and his mouth crashed back onto hers as his fingers pinched her n****e, twisting just enough to make her see stars. The pleasure-pain spiral sent her hips bucking against his thigh, her body chasing the release only he could give her.

The theater’s neon sign flickered, casting their tangled bodies in strobes of pink and blue. The night air was cool against Iris’s heated skin, but she barely noticed. There was only Noah…the weight of him, the taste of him, the way his hands mapped her body like he was memorizing every inch. When his fingers finally slipped beneath the waistband of her skirt, finding the damp heat between her thighs, she knew she was lost.

And she never wanted to be found