In Flight (17 page)

He didn’t hesitate after that, lowering himself on top of me, and lining his cock up against my slick cleft.
 
Sleek muscles sharply defined his broad shoulders as he held himself over me.
 

An exquisite work of art is about to fuck me,
I thought, dazed and out of my mind turned on.
 

He thrust into me with one hard, brutal motion, piercing my hymen without further ado.
 
I cried out at the shock.
 
I felt so impossibly full.
 
He didn’t stop, thrusting fast and hard, setting an inexhaustible pace that had his sweat dripping down onto me in delicious trails.
 
That initial sharp, biting pain faded as he thrust, turning into the purest pleasure, and the empty space at my core was filled to bursting with a wash of sensations that I could never have imagined.
 

I couldn’t keep back the sobs that escaped my throat, the tears that trailed down the sides of my face at the exquisite feeling of being both dominated and filled by this man.
 

He watched me the entire time with those intensely vivid turquoise eyes.
 
My eyes started to close with the pleasure once, and he barked out a harsh order for me to open my eyes and look at him.
 

I obeyed, though the intimacy of that extra contact was almost too much for me.
 
It was hard to remember that we weren’t supposed to feel anything for each other when he looked at me like I was more important than his next breath.
 

He pulled out almost completely, had me pleading with him to stay, before he pounded back in with a growl.
 
If I had thought he was letting go before, now he was pounding me into the mattress until I thought I might leave a permanent imprint.
 

He reached a hand down between us, rubbing circles around my clit without slowing his furious pace.
 

“Come, Bianca, now,” he ordered, and his order worked as a trigger.
 
I screamed as I came, and he shouted my name as he followed me, burying himself to the hilt as tremors wracked him, his neck arcing with his pleasure.
 
As the waves started to subside a little, he gripped my chin, looking at me with an almost angry, and certainly possessive, gleam.
 

“You’re mine,” he told me.
 
I had no idea what to say to that, but I didn’t need to respond.
 
In the next instant, he was kissing me passionately, desperately.
 

He released my wrists and ankles and undid my nipple clamps more quickly than I would have thought possible.
 
He pulled me against him, lining us up flesh to flesh, and started kissing my mouth again, as though he would never stop.
 

“Thank you,” he told me quietly, just once, when he came up for air, then began kissing me again.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Mr. Sensitive

Eventually he stopped kissing me and pulled my cheek against his chest.
 
I was reeling with the realization that casual sex could feel so intimate.
 
I felt so cherished as he stroked my back reverently and whispered sweet words to me.
 

He left me.
 
“Don’t move,” he said, his voice almost a whisper, as though afraid to intrude on the moment with noise.
 

I heard him start the bath, and couldn’t think of anything that sounded more perfect than a hot bath at that moment.
 

I lay on my back, exactly as he had left me, feeling more relaxed in every part of my body than I could ever remember.
 
I felt…peaceful.
 
It was a revelation.

When he’d been gone for several minutes, I opened my eyes to look around.
 

He stood at the foot of the bed, watching me, his eyes ablaze.
 
I glanced down my body and realized there was blood spread around on the sheets rather messily.
 

“I didn’t realize I would bleed so much,” I said, starting to sit up.
 

“Don’t,” he told me, and I lay back down.
 
We watched each other.
 
I saw that his erection was as hard as though he’d never come.
 

I pointed at it.
 
“Can you go again?
 
Is that possible?”
 

He smiled, and stroked his cock idly with one hand.
 
“Oh, yes.
 
But you’re too sore tonight.
 
I was just enjoying the view.
 
Embedding this image into my brain.”
 

He came to my side, lifting me until I was cradled against his chest.
 
He rose from the bed with my weight in his arms.
 
He showed no visible strain.
 
I loved that, his strength, and all of the amazing things he could do with his body, seemingly effortlessly.
   

“Let’s take a bath and talk about what we’re gonna do about this,” he said, stroking my hair, as though the ‘this’ was me.
 

It made me smile for some odd reason, though the thought of talking about anything held no appeal for me at that moment.
 

He stepped into the biggest tub I’d ever seen, still holding me.
 

The bathroom was one giant slab of greenish-black granite, so far as I could see.
 
The tub was square and he slid down against one side of it, holding me in front of him until we were sitting up together, him spooning me from behind.
 

He pumped some divine smelling soap out of a built-in granite dispenser and
 
began to lather soap over my entire body leisurely.
 
It smelled like him, and I breathed it in.
 
I felt positively decadent, laying there bonelessly while he tended to my bath.
 

“I love that soap.
 
It smells like you,” I told him, eyes closed in pleasure.
 

He brought his lips to my ear, biting the lobe teasingly.
 
“Now you smell like me.
 
I love
that
.”

He washed me in silence for a few minutes, stroking as much as cleaning.
 
He kept coming back to my breasts, stroking and kneading the pliable flesh thoroughly.
 

“We need to talk,” he told me.
 

I groaned, and not in pleasure this time.
 
“I’d prefer that you spank me again.
 
Can we do that instead?”
 
I was only half-joking.

He made a delicious purring noise against my neck.
 
“Not tonight.
 
We need to set up the rules for this.
 
If my self-control hadn’t deserted me tonight, we would have settled it before I ever touched you.”

I cringed at his terminology.
 
The word ‘settled’ gave me a bad feeling.
 
I didn’t think it boded well for the conversation to come.
 

“What is there to talk about?” I finally asked.
 

He sighed, the motion shifting me where I lay with my back on his chest.
 

“Well, I suppose I’d like to know what you would like out of our arrangement.
 
What’s important to you?“
 
As he spoke, he turned me so that he could see my face more clearly, my head supported by the crook of his elbow.
 

I wrinkled my nose at him.
 
The term ‘arrangement’ was even worse than ‘settled’.
 

“Really, the only thing I expect from you is an exclusive sexual relationship while we’re…having sex, even if we’re done with each other in a week.
 
And by done, I mean some type of communication before you start seeing anybody else, sexually or otherwise.
 
And if that’s a struggle for you, just let me know so I can bail out on the whole mess now.”

He blinked at me, looking stunned, and I thought for an awful moment that he considered that too much of a concession.
 
I was about a second away from getting the hell out of there when he spoke.
 
“Yes, of course.”
 
His tone implied that he hadn’t even considered anything else.
 

“And you want to not date,” I prompted him.
 
I was avidly curious to know what that meant for him.

He nodded, studying my face.
 
“I want to see you, though, as often as possible.
 
I would just prefer for our relationship to remain private.
 
So most of our meetings will be at one of my homes or yours.
 
I won’t be taking you out to a lot of public places, I regret.”
 

Sure he did
, I thought cynically.

I made my face go blank, suddenly feeling a little delicate for reasons I wasn’t willing to examine at that moment.
 

“Sounds great.
 
Isn’t that enough to settle things for the moment?
 
If we’re done with each other in a week, this seems like an awful lot of unnecessary talk, doesn’t it?
 
And if it lasts for two or three weeks, we’ll take that hurdle when we come to it.”
 

His face hardened as I spoke.
 
His own questions seemed harsh.
 
“Is that what you think?
 
That we’ll be done with each other in a week?
 
Or two or three?”
 

I shrugged, closing my eyes as though I might drift off at any moment.
 

 
“I don’t want to
think
about it.
 
However long it lasts, if you’re just honest with me when you’re done, and don’t just start seeing other people without telling me, that’s enough for me.”

He went back to washing and stroking me, tenderly washing and conditioning my hair, silent for a time.
 

“I would give just about anything to know what’s behind that cool composure of yours.
 
And I would kill to know what you’re thinking,” he whispered
 
against my hair.
 
“I’m so afraid I’ll offend you beyond all repair, and that you’ll never let me know how.
 
You’ll just leave and never speak to me again.
 
Would you do that?”

I never opened my eyes, just shrugging again.
 
Though it was uncanny to me how he’d realized that about me with how little he knew me.
 

“It’s possible.
 
It’s hard to say without specifics.”
 

He cursed softly.
 
“I need to feel more secure about this.
 
You terrify me.”

I smiled wryly, eyes still closed.
 

“Wrong word, Mr. Beautiful.
 
The term you’re looking for is more in-control, not more secure.
 
But I like my life.
 
I’m not making a lot of concessions there, so don’t even try.
 
I’m usually in New York one full day a week.
 
You live there, right?”

 
“Primarily, yes.”
 

“Okay, well, I’ll let you know when I’m in New York, and maybe we can meet up somewhere private.”

His arms tightened around me.
 
“This is what I’m talking about.
 
Are you saying this because I’ve somehow offended you?
 
Or are you really so indifferent?”

I suddenly wanted, badly, to leave.
 
He wasn’t one to leave a subject alone until he was satisfied, and I was absolutely done talking about anything that involved my indifference or lack thereof.
 
I felt an instant need to get away from him, away from this feeling of intimacy.
 
It was suddenly unbearable to me.
 

“I need to get home.
 
I work early.”
 
I stood.
 
I was relieved when he let me step out of the bath.
 

“Have you eaten dinner?” he asked me, his voice stiff and cool.
 

I thought about it, my mind going blank.
 
When was the last time I’d eaten?
 
I recalled scarfing down a protein bar as I painted, but that had been all since my yogurt on the plane.
 

“Um, I guess not,” I finally answered.
 
“But I can grab something later.”
 

His nostrils flared, his eyes getting a little wild.
 

“Please, at least stay to eat with me.
 
I’ll feel like a complete bastard if you come here, we do all of that,” he waved a hand at the bedroom, “and you leave as though you can’t even stand to share a meal with me.
 
I have some salmon prepped that only needs fifteen minutes to bake.”

I nodded.
 
“Okay,” I agreed readily enough.
 
I didn’t want to storm out like a drama queen.
 
I
would
prefer to leave with some dignity after a civilized meal.
 

He wrapped a towel around me, drying himself quickly and wrapping a towel low around his hips in a mouth-watering display.
 
I looked away.
 
He took off for the kitchen like he was afraid
 
I would leave if it took him too long to get the salmon ready.
 
He was uncanny at reading my intentions…

 
I slipped my dress back on, having nothing else.
 
The lack of a bra and panties made it into a somewhat obscene outfit, but I didn’t think it mattered.
 
I would be going from James’s house directly to my garage.
 
I could probably get away with being naked, in a pinch.