Chapter Nine

NOAH

I roll off, peeling the condom away with two fingers and tossing it expertly into the bedside trash can without looking. That's what happens when you get used to fucking no matter what time of the day it is. You learn how to dispose of trash.

"That was amazing, Noah," the lady, whose name is Gia whispers, turning to face me, with soft and adoring eyes.

"Get dressed." I say, already swinging my legs out of bed.

Her face falls. Great. More emotional bullshit. "Noah, come on. Can't I stay? Just for a little while?"

I grab a clean shirt from my wardrobe, pulling it over my head. "No. I have things to do. You know the drill."

She sits up, her huge tits bouncing with the slightest movement. I'm tempted to have a taste of her golden brown nipple but I have no desire to make her think she can sleep over.

"But I haven't seen you in a week. And your brother's home." She lowers her voice dramatically. "I heard him talking about your new housemate."

I stop, turning to look at her, a smile stretching on my lips. This just keeps getting better and better. "Yeah, he did. Isabella Jordans is moving in."

A glint enters her eyes. "Oh, the girlfriend he adores? The one he's obsessed with? The one with the..." she gestures vaguely at her chest. "We don't like her do we?"

"More than you expect," I murmur, walking over to my desk and pulling out a wad of cash. I toss it onto the bed. "Now get out."

She scrambles for the money, her earlier complaint forgotten. "I'm going. Text me?"

"Don't count on it."

She's gone five minutes later. I walk over to the door and lock it, then lean my head back against the cool wood. The house is quiet again, save for the faint, irritating sound of a hammer tapping.

I strip off my shirt again, heading for the shower.

Isabella Jordans.

The truth is, I shouldn't have reacted to her words. I'm always indifferent. I don't entertain emotions. But just that moment, I wasn't.

When have I never broken my rules for the grey-green-eyed chick? She's an anomaly. And I never did expect that she'd be moving in. Neither did I expect the blonde slut whose pussy was expecting my dick when I returned.

Who knows what's next?

I emerge from my bathroom, towelling my hair dry. The hammering has stopped. Thank God. Finally. I pull on a pair of joggers, grabbing my phone to check on dozens of useless messages that have accumulated.

Three from the old man. Eleven from Sloane. That makes fourteen. It's always the people you never want to associate with, isn't it? I don't know why they won't leave me alone. Isn't it crystal clear that I will not follow in the footprints of the stupid fucking family legacy?

For all I know, I'm not even the old man's biological son. Hardin is. I'm just that kid who was a product of the mistress of the house being too horny to end up fucking the gatekeeper.

I don't know why the old man bothers with me. I don't know why he won't just let me go. I don't fucking know why he wants me to go to Greenville. Isn't he tired already? The bad GPA isn't telling him that I'll never be the son he wishes for me to be?

My head spins, and the phone falls out of my hand and lands on the floor with a thud. I shut my eyes and hold my head, desperately trying to keep the sounds in. I breathe in and out for a long while, and when I finally feel better, I stand up, pick up my phone from the ground and walk out the door.

Isabella's room is open, but empty. Is she in yet? I roll my eyes. Why do I care? It's not my job to make sure she's in.

I walk down the stairs and into the chatter that's happening in my living room. I scowl deeply. I hate noise. And I hate the company. I guess I'll just have to make it clear to the woman who'll be my housemate.

"He was definitely fucking that girl!" I hear an unfamiliar voice and I stop walking. "Did you see the way she was walking?"

I raise a brow. Who the fuck is that?

"It's not my business, is it? It's his apartment."

Now I do recognise this voice. It's Isabella's.

"Girl, how will you survive? First night in and he's fucking right under your nose? What happens when..."

"Chloe! I don't care what he does."

"Yeah? Even if he decides to walk around naked, you won't care?"

A slow smirk forms on my lips as I strain to hear Isabella's reply.

I hear a soft snort. "Just because I said he's hot doesn't mean I can't handle him. And he can't walk around naked..."

"What if he does?"

"We'll see." I hear her last reply.

Damn. Now that's some news to me. She thinks I'm hot? Well, I know I'm hot. I don't need Isabella Jordan to spell it out for me. I've been told I'm hot by girls I can't remember and women I hid in their closets while their husbands returned from work on a sunny afternoon.

I shake my head and walk down the last few steps. Isabella's back is to me; she's standing and busy sorting out clothes while a brunette is seated on my sofa. I've never seen this one before. Her eyes are dark and alluring and she's got this defiant look that makes my cock lurch in my joggers.

"Hot, hot, hot, hot," she whispers, her eyes roaming over my chest, and lingering on the bulge in my joggers.

Isabella glances at her friend and then she turns. Our eyes lock.

"Nice of you to finally show up, after your activities..."

God, her mouth! That little mouth of hers is going to get her in deep absolute trouble one of these days. One of which I assume will be, her lips wrapped around the base of my cock...

"We heard, you know. It's my first night here and you are fucking around. What will you do when it's a month, uh?" She crosses her arms, and her tits jiggle.

Fuck! She's not even wearing a bra.

"Noah!"

I shrug. "What?"

"Stop staring at my breasts."

"I wasn't..." I start, but she cuts me off.

"It's rude, and I have a boyfriend."

My lips twitch. "Do I look like I care, Minnie?"