Flying (14 page)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“I don’t care,” Stella said to her stubborn-faced son who was pouting by the kitchen counter, spreading crumbs as if he were trying to plant a toast garden from seed. “You’re not staying here by yourself. Not overnight, and certainly for the whole weekend. No way. We’ve already had this discussion.”

“They’re having some sort of
party.
” Tristan’s expression made it clear what he thought of Cynthia’s parties.

Stella looked at the clock. They had to leave or she was going to be late. She hadn’t even showered yet.

“Did your dad say he didn’t want you to come?”

“No. But I don’t want to.”

“Oh, Tristan, for God’s sake. Stay in your room the whole time. It’s what you’d do here anyway.”

His gaze gleamed, and he waved his toast around. “Exactly! So why can’t I stay here?”

“Because you’re sixteen years old,” Stella told him flatly. “And I’m going to be out of town.”

“Where are you going, anyway?”

“Photoshop training workshop.” She lied smoothly, without so much as a blink to betray her.

Tristan shoved toast in his mouth, chewing furiously. His anger hadn’t ruined his appetite, at least. “You don’t trust me.”

“No,” Stella said honestly. “I absolutely do not.”

She’d forgotten how bad the traffic was in the mornings, what idiots the other parents were. Tristan gave her the silent treatment during the entire drive. Stella didn’t try to get him to talk. She counted the minutes and estimated how long it would take her to get to the airport, what flights she’d be missing. If she should bother going at all. It was on the tip of her tongue to turn to her son and tell him it was fine, she’d change her plans, that he could stay home this weekend instead of having to spend it at his father’s. But it had been two months since she’d flown, and she really wanted to go.

Stella was desperate to fly.

“I’ll be home Sunday night,” she called after him as Tristan got out of the car, ignoring her. “I can pick you up—”

“I’ll have Dad drop me off,” he said over his shoulder. “Wouldn’t want you to bother.”

He slammed the door behind him and stalked off, and Stella became one of those annoying mothers who waited to watch until their kid got inside the building before pulling away.

Of course, she missed the flight to Atlanta she’d planned to take. The others were too far—one to Houston, one to Denver. Her weekend policy had always been to not do anything with a layover because it made it that much harder for her to be sure she could get home on time. There was a flight she could just barely make, if she was lucky—and leaving from Harrisburg almost always meant she was lucky, since it was such a small airport.

Chicago.

It wasn’t that she hadn’t been to Chicago before. Of course she had, several times. But all Stella could really remember was the last time, when she’d met Matthew and told him not only her real name, but the secret she never told anyone. All she could really remember was Matthew.

There was almost no chance she’d see him there again, obviously. And though she could remember every detail of his apartment, she did not remember the address. She didn’t know his last name. And even if she did, she wouldn’t have looked him up in the phone book, much less showed up at his apartment. It had been, what, two months since she’d fucked him? He might not even remember who she was...though something told her that he would.

Chicago it was, though, unless she didn’t want to go anywhere at all. She made her way through security and checked her watch. Half an hour before boarding. Plenty of time for her to hit the restroom and make a few cosmetic changes.

The woman in the mirror had wide brown eyes outlined in black liner. Full red lips. Glossy black hair in a short bob. The wig came off first, tucked into the special satin bag in her carry-on. She wiped her face with makeup towelettes, then pulled her cosmetics case from the bag and redid everything. When she’d finished, she checked over her outfit. Black wrap dress. Full cleavage. Stockings and garters beneath. Ankle-breaker pumps. The clothes would be fine, but her face and hair...those she wanted to be her own. She brushed out her hair to get rid of any tangles, then pulled it into a messy twist. Turning her face from side to side, Stella leaned on the sink.

“He won’t be there,” she mouthed at herself. “And even if he does happen to be in the same airport, the chances of you meeting him are so fucking small.”

The ride to Chicago was uneventful. The businessman who sat next to her would’ve been a decent prospect, on a different flight. She did flirt with him, though, letting him lean close enough to smell the whiskey on his breath. The few times his knee bumped hers, she didn’t pull away. She even let him get a number of long, leering looks down the front of her dress, and that was totally for her benefit. She liked watching a man’s eyes widen, then narrow. The leap of his pulse in his throat. She liked turning men on.

But when they disembarked, he gave her no more than a second glance, pulling his briefcase from the overhead compartment and booking it out of the plane and down the corridor so far ahead of her it was almost comical. She’d have been insulted if she’d intended to seduce him. As it was, Stella took her time, allowing all the other passengers to get off the plane before she reached overhead for her bag. She thanked the crew, something most people didn’t bother to do and she remembered as one of the greatest annoyances of working as flight crew.

In the airport, she went first to the Pegasus Airlines courtesy counter and had them check the available flights leaving on Sunday, making sure they put her down for the first available. Then she hit the restroom to freshen up. And after that, she went to the bar. She turned heads as she took a seat, and though she noticed, pretended she didn’t. It was the same bar as before, the one with the wagon wheels.

“Iced tea,” she said politely to the bartender. “Thanks.”

“You should have something a little stronger than an iced tea,” said a male voice from behind her, and everything inside her clenched and twisted and dropped.

Stella turned on her stool to favor him with a smile. “Hi. Matthew, right?”

“You remembered.” His grin seemed easier this time than it had the first time they’d met. She guessed it was the liquor she could smell on him and the empty glass in his hand. “Stella.”

“You remembered,” she murmured.

At home, if she’d dressed herself up and gone to a bar, Stella would’ve been plagued with insecurities that never bothered her when she flew. But here was the conundrum. She was dressed up; she was flying. But against all odds, she was still Stella. If she’d met another man tonight, there’d have been a different name. Mannerisms, habits, whatever it was that made her into someone new. In front of him, though, this man who’d already seen her naked, who’d already felt her come, who’d already tasted her, Stella had to swallow hard against the sudden tightness in her throat.

Matthew leaned a little closer. His face was stubbled a little heavier this time, the lines at the corners of his eyes a little more pronounced. She caught the flecks of silver in his dark hair, cropped shorter than she remembered. Two months hadn’t been entirely kind to him, she thought. Two months had worn him. Though he was still handsome.

“How could I forget you? Stella, Stella star.”

She laughed at that. Not the first time she’d heard it. “Have you been here awhile?”

“Corey, have I been here awhile?” Matthew raised his glass. “Long enough, I guess. For tonight. Hey, Corey, gimme another, would ya?”

Corey was happy to do it, and one for Stella too, though she hadn’t asked for it.

“Corey,” said Matthew, “makes a great Manhattan, as you might remember.”

Stella smiled. “Yes. He does. Do you want to sit down?”

“Yes.” Matthew slid onto the stool next to hers, not as unsteadily as she might’ve guessed from the way he was slightly slurring his words. “Stella, Stella, Stella. How did I know I’d see you again?”

She twisted on her stool to let her knees bump his and lifted her drink as well as an eyebrow. This was getting easier, making Stella a character the way all the others had been. “I don’t know. How did you?”

“I just thought if I sat here often enough, waiting, you’d make your way back here. And I was right, wasn’t I?”

She hesitated at that, not sure how seriously she should take him. “You were waiting for me?”

At that, his gaze shuttered briefly before he smiled at her. “Sure.”

“Uh-huh.” Stella could tell when she was being played, but it didn’t matter because he was so very, very charming about it. She lifted her glass and sipped, eyeing him. She leaned a little closer, lowering her voice. “Well. Here I am.”

“Here you are.”

He might be well on his way to drunk, but he held her gaze for so long heat flamed inside her. His smile teased her own, until they both sat looking at each other like a pair of fools. It was enough to look at each other, it seemed, because Matthew didn’t seem inclined to say anything for some long minutes, and neither did Stella.

Finally he spoke. “You want to go home with me?”

Stella smiled. “Why do you think I flew to Chicago?”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

They took a cab the way they had done the first time, though this time she’d had only iced tea, not having touched her Manhattan before they left the bar, and could better remember the street names and path the cab took. Matthew sat close to her, holding her hand. His thumb stroked the back of it, over and over, until she had to clench her thighs together against the pulse in her clit.

He kissed her in the elevator. Backed her up against the wall. Slid a hand between her legs and found her slick and hot. He moaned a little when his fingertips encountered the garters, and he pulled open the slit of her dress to look. Then at her face.

“You are so sexy.”

Stella’s breath caught. Men had said that, or permutations of it, to her so many times she’d lost track, but something in the way Matthew said it left her speechless. When he pushed against her to nibble her neck, his hand still between her legs, she could only give herself up to his caress and pray nobody else was going to get on the elevator.

Nobody did, although when it stopped on his floor and the door opened, Matthew did withdraw fast enough to make her head spin in a different way. Holding her hand, he drew her out of the elevator and down the hall to his apartment.

Inside, he kissed her, long and slow and deep. His tongue stroked hers. His hand went between her legs again, this time to tug open her dress and explore the straps of her garters. He let out another of those shuddering sighs and pulled away to look into her eyes.

“Did you dress this way hoping to meet me?”

“Yes.” It wasn’t a lie. She’d dressed this way to meet someone—and though it hadn’t been until the missed flight to Atlanta that she’d considered Chicago an option, there was no denying she’d hoped against hope she’d find him again.

And she had.

Matthew went slowly to his knees in front of her. The wrap dress came open with a swift tug. She stood in front of him in her fancy bra and pretty panties, the lacy garter belt and sheer stockings.

Men had varied reactions to this sight for the first time. Most loved the sexy lingerie, though there’d been a few who couldn’t have cared less about what she wore so long as she had their dicks down the back of her throat. Most were properly appreciative, some went gape-jawed, a few blushed.

Matthew adored.

He ran his fingers along the backs of her legs, tickling behind her knees. Then the tops of her stockings. He nudged her thighs to widen her stance a little, and Stella obliged, going dry-mouthed at his attentions. Matthew nuzzled the inside of her thigh, just above the stocking. His fingers crept up to cup her ass as he nosed a little higher, higher. He breathed against her pussy, the heat of his breath making her squirm until he held her still. The pressure of his lips on her clit, even through the satin, was enough to urge a sigh from her.

“Fuck, I want to taste you,” he said.

Stella had no answer for that but to shift her feet a little wider and tilt her hips toward him. Matthew hooked his fingers in her panties and eased them over the garters and stockings, then gently gripped first one ankle and then the other to help her step out of them. She had to put a hand on his shoulder to steady herself, and when he looked up at her from that place on his knees, his hazel eyes hazy with lust, his mouth already wet from where he’d licked his lips, she knew she’d better find something to hold on to, because when he put his mouth on her she was going to want to fall down.

Matthew pressed his mouth to her clit, sucking gently. Stella groaned. Her fingers tightened on his shoulder. With a low laugh that sent shivers of pleasure all through her, Matthew looked up at her. He kissed between her legs again, then pushed her gently back toward the couch.

“Sit. Open your legs for me.”

He said it in such a way it was clear he expected no resistance. Not that she had any. Stella was more than happy to shrug out of her dress and toss it to the side and take a seat on the couch. Matthew gripped her hips and pulled her forward to the edge, then sat back to look at her.

Slowly, slowly, she did as he’d commanded, inching open her thighs to reveal herself to him totally. There was always hesitation in this exposure. In making herself vulnerable and available. And this time, she wore her real name. Her real face and hair. The Stella who normally looked this way, aside from the lingerie and shoes, was not the woman who fucked in bathroom stalls or the backseats of cars. Or fucked at all, for that matter.

“So fucking gorgeous.” He pushed himself between her legs before she could say a word, and his compliment sent another surge of heat through her.

When his mouth found her flesh again, Stella didn’t even try to hold back her low cry of pleasure. She let her head fall back against the cushions. His hair was much too short for her to tug or pull. She had to settle for cupping the top of his head.

Matthew’s tongue smoothed over her clit. Stella moaned at the tug of his lips against her. When he pushed a finger inside her, she moaned again, this time his name.

“Wanna fuck you so bad,” he murmured against her cunt.

She couldn’t hold back a breathless giggle at that. “No, no...you wanna fuck me so good.”

The hum of his laughter felt so good that Stella squirmed. Matthew moved up her body to find her mouth. His tongue stroked hers while his fingers still moved inside her.

“Do you want me inside you, Stella?”

“Yes.”

“Say it,” he said into her mouth.

“I want you inside me, Matthew....” She trailed into a gasp when his thumb pressed her clit just right.

“I want to get you off first. Just like this.”

That sounded delightful to her, especially since she was halfway there. “And then?”

“Then I’m going to fuck you until you come again.”

“Such a gentleman,” Stella breathed, and let him get to it.

Stella lost herself in the pleasure of his mouth on hers, his fingers deep inside her. Thumb pressing her clit. He added a little come-hither gesture with his fingers inside her that had her losing her mind. Everything went tight and tense, and finally her orgasm rippled through her and left her panting and spent.

Blinking, she kissed him. “Mmm.”

Matthew eased his fingers from inside her and put his hand flat on her belly. He nuzzled her neck, nipping a little. “I felt you come around my fingers. That was so hot.”

Stella laughed a little and pushed away to look at him. “You’ve never felt that before?”

Matthew hesitated, licking his lips. “No.”

“Hmmm.” She tilted her head to study him.

He looked down her body, and though his scrutiny made her feel a little self-conscious, Stella didn’t move. “It’s hard for women, sometimes. Isn’t it?”

“Yes.” She sat up on the couch, aware now of the nubbly fabric under her bare skin. Without the haze of impending orgasm to distract her, being half-naked while he was still fully clothed was becoming disconcerting. Not to mention that her bare ass and wet pussy were in direct contact with his couch cushions.

“But you...you,” Matthew said as he kissed her again, “you don’t have trouble.”

That wasn’t always true, but she was happy her ability to get off had pleased him. When he stood, pulling her to her feet, Stella put her arms around his neck for another kiss. With her heels on, there was no strain to reach his mouth.

“I think you promised you’d fuck me,” she said against his lips. “Where do you want me?”

To her surprise, Matthew bent to hook an arm beneath her knees and lifted her. With a small shriek, Stella clung to him. She couldn’t remember the last time a man had ever picked her up this way—if one ever had. Jeff hadn’t carried her across the threshold. Matthew didn’t even struggle as he carried her down the hall and into his bedroom, where he kicked the door shut behind them in a totally caveman way that had her squirming all over again.

They were both on the bed before she knew it, rolling. She ended up straddling him. Stella sat upright, to work at his belt. She could feel him, hard as brick through his jeans. She had him free in a minute or so. His cock pushed from the top of his briefs, and she was overwhelmed by the desire to take him in her mouth. She didn’t get a chance, though.

With his hands on her hips, Matthew rolled them both again so she was beneath him. He reached to pull open the drawer of his nightstand and grab a box of condoms, which he tossed onto the bed next to her. Last time he’d been unprepared. Either she’d taught him a valuable lesson in preparation, or he’d been fucking other women during the past two months...which wasn’t any of her business and not something she wanted to think about right now.

Not with his mouth moving down her throat to the swell of her breasts and him shimmying out of his jeans. Not when he pushed up on his knees to pull his shirt off over his head and toss it aside, leaving him naked and erect and between her legs. And certainly not when he shook a condom from the box and opened it carefully, then slid it over his lovely, thick cock and poised himself at her entrance.

He pushed inside her slowly until he was seated so deep it hurt, just a little. Stella drew in a breath and shifted to ease the angle. She drew her knees up to press to his sides. Her hands slid up his chest, pressed flat over the thump of his heart. Matthew, supported on his arms, didn’t move at first.

“You feel so good,” he said in a low voice.

There wasn’t an answer to that. Not a verbal one. She murmured encouragement and pressed her knees against him, urging him to move. She tilted her hips. His cock throbbed inside her, and she let out a small groan.

Matthew began to move. Slow, so slow at first she wanted to wriggle in frustration, but after a few minutes, she wanted to writhe with building desire. Every time he pressed into her, his body gave just enough pressure on her clit to tease her. When he slid out, adding a twist of his hips, his cock hit her in all the right places. In. Out.

“Harder,” she whispered.

Something shifted in his gaze. His mouth twisted. Matthew’s brow furrowed, and he did move faster. Harder.

“Harder,” Stella said.

His hand slipped behind her neck to dig his fingers into her hair, bringing her to his mouth. His kiss bruised as his thrusts got faster. Stella wrapped herself around him and held on tight, eating at his mouth and hooking her heels around the backs of his calves to urge him even deeper. Matthew buried himself against her neck.

Stella turned her head, offering him the soft skin of her throat. “Use your mouth....”

He didn’t, at first. When the tentative press of his teeth had her gasping though, he seemed to gather courage and bit her. Not hard enough to leave a mark, but hard enough to make her hips buck and her clit pulse. Her cunt throbbed and she concentrated on her internal muscles, clenching on his cock.

“Oh, fuck,” Matthew breathed.

“Fuck me harder.”

He did.

Whatever hesitation he’d had was gone now. Matthew fucked her so hard the bed slammed the wall. Stella cried out at the slam of him inside her, but she welcomed the pain. It sent her up and up, over into a short and sharp climax that surprised her into a hoarse shout.

Matthew came a moment later and collapsed onto her, squeezing out her breath for a moment before he rolled off her and onto his back. Breathing hard, he flung an arm over his head and stared up at the ceiling in silence. Stella turned on her side, tucking an arm under her cheek to prop herself. She put a hand on his flat belly, admiring the muscles there. She still wore her bra and garter belt, though she suspected her stockings were a ruin. She sat up.

“Where you going?”

She looked at him over her shoulder with a small smile. “Girl’s gotta take care of things after. Is it okay if I use your bathroom?”

“Of course. Absolutely.”

Her panties and dress were in the living room, a tiny fact she’d forgotten. Without getting off the bed, Stella quickly unhooked her stockings and rolled them down her legs—one was shredded, as she’d suspected. She undid her garter belt too, sliding the thin scrap of lace through her fingers. Then she sat, sort of stuck. Being totally naked would feel less awkward in this moment than wearing only a bra, but why would she take it off, only to put it back on in a few minutes? But to walk to the bathroom in only her bra would make her entirely self-conscious.

Spotting Matthew’s T-shirt a couple inches from her foot, Stella grabbed it. If he was offended by her borrowing his shirt, she reasoned, he shouldn’t have put his cock inside her. Tugging it over her head, she stood to let the fabric fall around her thighs, then went into the bathroom, where she found a clean washcloth from a stack on a shelf next to the shower. She washed herself carefully and rinsed the cloth several times before wringing it out. She searched for a laundry basket and didn’t find one, so settled for hanging it over the edge of the sink.

She was rinsing her mouth when Matthew, still naked, came into the bathroom. He weaved a little, then went to the toilet and pissed in a long, hard stream, one hand gripping the wall for balance. She eyed him in the mirror as she ran the water and cupped a hand under the stream to scoop another mouthful. She was still watching him when he finished, flushed and made his languid way toward her.

She stiffened a little when he came up behind her and put his arms around her to nuzzle against her neck. The embrace, intimate and unexpected, warmed her and prickled the back of her throat. It had been a long, long time since a man had hugged her at the bathroom sink.

She turned in his arms, the sink’s marble edge pressing her lower back. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Matthew kissed her. “Are you trying to run out on me again?”

“Again...” She laughed. “I don’t have to leave until Sunday. But I wasn’t assuming—”

“If you don’t want to stay, you don’t have to,” he said after a second, pulling away but not letting go. “I just thought—”

“If you want me to—” she began, and stopped.

They looked at each other. Then they both smiled slowly. Matthew pulled her close again and looked into her eyes. She knew he was still a little drunk. That he might regret waking up next to her in the morning. But at that moment, Stella liked the way he was looking at her.