Chapter 22

Evelyn

"Get the fuck away from me," Noah's voice carries through the house from upstairs in a loud, angry scream. Dropping the spatula, I turn off the stove with one quick flip. "Don't touch me!" he shouts again and I dash upstairs, taking two steps at a time before bursting into our bedroom.

"What's going on?" I ask, out of breath as I process the sight in front of me. Kyle is standing at the side of our bed, his arms hooked under Noah's armpits, hoisting him off the mattress.

"You mentioned it is shower day, so I wanted to help and wash him," Kyle says offhandedly and shrugs.

"Over my dead body," Noah spits out.

"We can make that happen."

"Kyle," Noah says, his voice low. "I'm going to fucking kill you." He shoves Kyle off of him and attempts to stand on his own, swaying from side to side. With hurried steps, I run to Noah's side and wrap my arms around his stomach, glaring up at Kyle.

"Can you please go downstairs and cook the pasta?" I ask him.

"What?"

"You cook, I shower him. You only have to boil the water and cook the pasta; the sauce is ready and just needs to be heated up." Noah remains silent throughout the exchange, leaning against me while trying to keep his balance.

Kyle sighs and turns around to leave. "Sure can." He waves before closing the door behind himself.

I look up at Noah, furrowing my eyebrows in worry. "Babe, are you okay?"

"Do I look okay?" he asks, his voice laced with irritation and anger, but not as snippy as with Kyle.

"Let's get you into the shower."

"I don't want to."

"You have to. We've already compromised that you'll only shower every other day. Since it's winter, you don't sweat that much, so it's doable, but you have to shower eventually."

He groans and rolls his eye. But without any further protest, he lets me help him into the bathroom, get him undressed and ready for the shower before I take off my clothes as well and help him into the stall.

"When are you going to let me do this by myself again? "

"Once you get used to your new vision and hearing, and your sense of balance is back to normal. I can't have you falling in the shower and hitting your head."

He rolls his eye again but sits down on the built-in shower bench without further complaint. As ridiculous as I thought this feature was when we bought the house, I'm glad we have it now. "Tell me if anything feels uncomfortable."

"Everything's uncomfortable," he snaps.

"Noah," I say with a sigh and turn on the water, waiting for it to heat up before I step closer and begin to rinse his body.

"This is humiliating," he mutters, his eye glued to my chest.

"Is there any way I can make you more comfortable?" I nudge his chin and urge him to tilt his head back so I can start shampooing his freshly trimmed hair.

"No. I hate all this," he admits through gritted teeth. "It's fucking frustrating."

After rinsing his hair, I proceed to scrub his body, being careful not to use too much pressure on the huge fading bruises that mark his skin. His eye is fixed on me as I kneel in front of him, washing his legs. In the corner of my eye, I catch a movement followed by a low grunt escaping him and he tilts his head back to look at the ceiling. "Fuck," he mutters, and I turn my attention to the movement. His cock is slowly but steadily hardening, rising a little higher with each pulse that sends blood through his length.

I look back at him, his head still leaning against the shower wall. Sex has been and will be off the table for a while. Not that he hasn't tried to initiate it; he tries every day, in the morning, afternoon or at night. But in this state, his body is simply not ready. Although it's clear that the lack of intimacy is adding to the already pent up frustration. I turn my attention back to his now fully erect cock in front of me. There is a slight chance he will feel better after an orgasm. Maybe he will be less hostile and more cooperative.

I suck my lower lip between my teeth, shoot him one last glance and without a second thought, I turn off the water before I wrap my fingers around the base of his cock, feeling his pulse against my fingertips. His head immediately jerks forward, looking down at me as I give him a few pumps with the roll of my wrist. "Dove…"

"Shut up and enjoy yourself," I say, leaning closer, holding his cock up and placing my tongue flat against his shaft, working my way up until I reach the top. Circling the swollen head with the tip of my tongue, the familiar taste of salty pre-cum floods my taste buds. A low moan escapes his throat, and his hips buck forward, thrusting against my lips. Instead of complaining as I usually would, I place a soft kiss on the tip before parting my lips and easing him into my mouth. One of my hand's lands on his thigh, just in case, while I wrap the fingers of the other hand around the base of his cock.

With my tongue pressed flat against his shaft, I begin to bob my head, making sure my tongue brushes over the sensitive head with each stroke. He throws his head back against the tiled wall with a bump as one of his hand's lands on the top of my head, grabbing a handful of my hair.

His hips jerk every time I lower him a little deeper into my mouth, and with each bob of my head, my throat muscles relax to meet the anticipated goal. "Eve," he moans, pushing my head down and hitting the back of my throat without any further resistance. My muscles contract around the tip of his cock as he holds my head down. Tears sting in the corners of my eyes and I look up to meet his hazy green eye staring back at me. His jaw drops, and he struggles for air, his chest heaving with every breath.

His hand holding my head down begins to tremble and loses its tight grip, allowing me to lift my head before lowering him back down into my throat. With every bob of my head, heat pools between my legs, the stickiness of my own arousal coating my thighs. It's not that I don't miss sex. No matter which toy, no matter how satisfying the orgasm, it doesn't compare to the heat of him inside me, keeping me warm from the inside out. The comfort of his body draped over me like a cozy blanket, enveloping me.

Blinking away the tears that trickle down my cheeks, I close my eyes and pick up the pace. With each swallow, he hits the back of my throat, drawing low moans from him. Through my hand on his thigh, I feel his muscles loosen as he melts into the bench and finally lets go.

Rubbing my thighs together, I suppress the aching emptiness that desperately begs to replace my mouth with my cunt, to have his cock where my body has craved it for weeks. But instead, I continue until I feel Noah's muscles flex under my hand and his cock throbs in my mouth. His grip on my hair tightens and he forces my head down, eliciting a wrenching grunt from me as my throat muscles clench around his cock, pumping his cum into my mouth. The sheer amount is too much to swallow all at once, some squirting out of my lips wrapped tightly around him.

The moment his grip on my hair finally loosens, I pull away, gasping for air. My chest heaves as I lean against his leg before turning to look up at him and find him gazing down at me with a hazy, satisfied smile on his lips as he fights for air himself. My heart flutters at the sight of the first genuine smile in days.

Raising his hand, he wipes my lips, which stretch into a smile at the gentle gesture. "I love you," he says through heavy panting. My smile widens and I rise to my feet, pressing my lips to his. But he breaks the kiss, his hand slipping between my legs, caressing my inner thighs, spreading my sticky arousal. "Do you—"

"No, it's okay," I say softly.

"But…"

"No. Let's clean up and go downstairs for dinner. We shouldn't keep Kyle waiting for too long." I place another fleeting kiss on his lips before grabbing the showerhead. His hand falls back to his side. The light in his eye that flickered with his orgasm fades and his shoulders hunch.