Stroke of Midnight (5 page)

The world they’d created inside this compact luxurious cabin shrank to one contact point between them. His tongue, alternately pressing on her clit and probing her open cunt drove her higher and higher, built her tension taut.

She quivered under his mouth and she heard him chuckle. “That’s it, shake for me. Make me see how much you want to come.”

His words continued to rain on her, telling her what to do, how to like it, how to move. “Arch your ass toward me. Let me bury my face inside you. Spread wide now.”

She did everything he wanted, gave him every possible view he could have of her. And she loved it. His fingers probed, one, then two, then with a burning stretch she felt the third.

The push/pull of his fingers had her moaning. She reached for the headboard for support as he removed one finger and set it to work on her clitoris again. “I’m going to come,” she said between moans.

“Yes, yes, come.” The bed dipped and rolled under her knees as he mounted her from behind.

His heavy headed cock pressed against her lips and slid in higher and stronger than before. He shook her ass cheeks and grabbed on, slamming into her, pumping her hips back against him.

“I can see my dick sliding in and out, Jaye. You’re so tight, and wet and your pussy’s clenched around me.”

“Shut up and move,” she said on a hoarse cry. “Move!”

He did. Sliding and pumping, he carried her over the edge of sanity and into a raging come. He followed as soon as her cries of completion died away.

Alex allowed Jaye time to shower, sorry there wasn’t room for two at a time. But she needed her rest more than he needed sex. His need would soon build to the breaking point and he’d have her again before they reached French airspace.

For now, she lay on his bed, covers to her chin with her face buried in his pillow. While he toweled off after his shower, he watched her. Her hair spread across the pillow like a huge red flower, her shoulders, white and smooth, peeked out of the top of the duvet.

Something in him stirred, something nearly forgotten. He ignored the feeling and brusquely finished drying off. He checked his face in the mirror for stubble, ran a hand along his jaw. He wanted his face in her pussy again, wanted to taste her and lick her and she’d never allow it if his whiskers burned her.

He shaved. And caught himself whistling a tune he hadn’t thought of in years.

When he checked and found her asleep, he pulled the duvet higher on her shoulders and left her to her nap. He quietly slipped out and headed for the cockpit.

He took the co-pilot’s seat. “How are we doing for time?”

The other man’s gaze took in Alex’s still damp hair and grinned. “Why? Want another round?”

Alex frowned. “Maybe.”

Carl faced forward, checked the gauges. “We’ve got three more hours, at least. Even you could get it up again in that time.” The jibe failed to hit the mark.

“Droll. Nothing you can say can get me riled. Not today.” He had everything he wanted. The redhead in his bed, worn out from hot, hard sex, and two more weeks of the same stretching out before him. Golden.

He stretched and yawned.

“Take a nap,” Carl said.

“No. I want to enjoy the moment.”

Carl nodded. His uncle wasn’t a man with a lot to say, but when he chose to speak, he was dead honest. And he was the only family Alex had left.

“It’s perfect. Right now. My life’s perfect. I have everything I want, and everything I want wants me back. There haven’t been many moments like this in my life and I want to savor it.”

Savor her.

Carl set the controls to autopilot and turned toward him. “I hear you. I once had a woman in Frisco who did this thing with her tongue—”

“Fuck off.”

“Oh.” Carl frowned. “It’s not like that.”

“No, I don’t think it is.” The something near his heart that had awakened in the shower, stretched some more, shook off slumber and rolled.

Damn.

“Thing is,” he said, “she’s asleep and I don’t want her to be. I want to wake her, talk to her, learn about her.”

“Oh shit.”

“Yeah. Oh shit.”

“Let her sleep then. She’ll appreciate it.” Carl looked off into the distance as if measuring what he’d say next. “Your parents felt that way within minutes of meeting. They met and married in a week.”

“Yes, I know. My mother loved to tell that story.”

“Your father said it was like a punch to the gut.”

He nodded, recognizing the truth to the description. “Anything like that ever happen to you?”

“No.” He chuckled, ran his fingers through his salt and pepper hair. “I’m too old now, I guess. That kind of thing passed me by.”

Alex scrubbed his scalp. His hair was half dry. “The sky’s stretched out forever up here.”

“Yep. Like a damn fine future. Blue, clear, unbroken. No obstacles, no traffic jams, no pedestrians, no stoplights. Yep, you think you’re flying along with nothing to stop you and bam, you’re in the shadow of some big fucking jumbo jet and feel the size of a flea.”

“Life can be full of shadows.”

“You should know.”

Alex patted Carl’s shoulder, gripped it as a familiar sadness cross his mind. “I’ll go heat up some of Aretha’s soup. She make chicken noodle for me?”

“Doesn’t she always?”

Alex headed back toward the tight galley. He heard a stirring from the bedroom and peeked in at Jaye. “Hi,” he said when she lifted her tousled head from the pillow.

“Hi, yourself.” The greeting came with the warmest grin he’d ever seen.

“You look pleased with yourself.”

She stretched under the duvet, her slim fingers intertwined over her head. “I feel fabulous. You don’t want to know how long it’s been for me.”

He crossed his arms and leaned against the narrow doorway. “Actually, I do. Tell me.”

“Well, technically, with a man, a few years.”

“Years?” She had to be lying. No woman as hot, as ready as Jaye could go that long without it. “How long without a man?”

She nibbled her lower lip. “Let’s just say I’ve taken care of business myself for longer than I care to admit.”

“I’d like to see that sometime.”

“I’d like to forget that I ever have to do it again.” She plumped the pillow behind her back and settled in. “What’s that wonderful smell?”

“Aretha’s chicken soup. It’s my favorite.”

“Smells like my favorite too.”

“Good.” The microwave beeped ready behind him and he took a couple of minutes to ladle the soup into serving bowls. He set them and a plate of crackers on a bed tray and headed for her again, taking care to kick the door shut behind him.

“Who’s Aretha?” she asked when she’d tasted the soup. She lifted her second spoonful to her lips and blew to cool it.

“My housekeeper. She’s been with me since I was a kid.”

“Oh.”

“She makes good soup. And my life easier.”

She laughed. “So that’s what it takes to be kept around. Making your life easier. Is that what Carl does too?”

“Yes. And that’s no small thing. I’m very demanding.”

“I noticed.” The heat in her gaze made his temperature rise. If he didn’t take control of the situation he’d be lost in her again. And right now, he wanted more than sex.

That in itself was enough to give him pause.

He told her how much longer they had in the air.

“Good, that gives us time to get some more.” Her hand trailed across his thigh and finger combed his pubic hair, making his balls contract.

His soup sloshed in the bowl. “Easy now,” he said.

“Oops. Sorry, my hand slipped.”

“Remind me to use that one later.”

She dipped the tip of her butter knife into the pot of cream cheese Aretha had provided to go with the crackers. She took a dainty scoop and smeared it on her water cracker. “I can’t remember ever having snacks in bed before. It’s wonderful. Decadent.”

“It’s a necessity after that last bout. We have to keep up our strength.”

“For the next bout.”

He set his empty soup bowl on the night stand on his side of the bed. “Do you need more food?”

She shook her head. “I need more you.” She set her half finished soup on her night stand.

“So, you’re having fun? A good time?”

“It’s wonderful. Never could I have imagined anything better for my vacation. A hot connection with a hotter man than I’ve ever had before and homemade soup in bed. This is heaven.”

He twined a lock of her hair around his finger. “Yes, it is.”

He tugged her close and took her lips in a kiss that scorched his soul. She gave as good as she got, and the satisfaction that brought bubbled through him. They were already used to the rhythm they shared.

The kiss led to another, slower, hungrier one and she tilted herself over him, her nipples dangling just above his chest. She dipped low enough to brush against his hair. The ends moved, teasing him.

Ripe pink berries, he thought and he reached for one. He rolled it between his thumb and forefinger. Her breath caught and he knew she liked it.

“Sensitive?”

“Yes, I, um, never realized before how touchy my nipples are.”

“I suppose when you’re taking care of business yourself, they get short shrift.”

“Something like that, yes.”

“Straddle my hips.”

She did. Her glorious hair spilled across her shoulders, swept down her chest to play peek-a-boo with her nipples. Her slit slid open along his cock, nearly encasing his full width. The tip of his cock protruded through her curls and she rocked herself against him.

“Stop that. Not yet. Not until I’ve had my fill of these,” he said with a tight squeeze on her luscious nipples.

Her pussy pressed down on him with each tweak of her rosy buds, as if they were directly connected to her inner muscles.

“Do you like that?” he asked with a rasp of his thumbnail against her distended right nipple. The aureole was flushed and protruding, looked full and invited his mouth.

He sat up and raised her so he could lave each breast in turn. She squirmed in his arms and her moisture slid across his cock. Damn, but he wanted to lift her, part her inner lips and let her slide on down to home. But he’d neglected to use a condom and he refused to take a chance.

Instead, for her comfort as well as his own he slid a hand between their bodies and set his cock to the side. “Don’t want to slide in by mistake,” he said through gritted teeth.

She shuddered and arched back to show him her neglected, moist clit. He rubbed his thumb across it, smearing her juice around and around it. Moist and full, he knew she was ready to come, and the idea of seeing her explode with nothing but his thumb on her appealed like nothing ever had.

“You’re going to come for me now, Jaye. Right on my thumb.” He tapped her, letting the sticky juice of her smear and get tacky, allowing the nerve endings to scream to her brain.

“Fuck me, Alex.” She rocked on his lap. “Suck my nipples and fuck me.”

He latched onto a nipple and sucked hard, then harder still when she grabbed his head and held him there. Her pussy pushed against his thumb and moisture flowed across his knuckles wedged into her opening.

“Make me come, let me c-c-come.” She surged against him and groaned deep in her throat. Breathy little grunts caught him by the balls and his cock jumped and flexed against her inner thigh.

Just the sounds she made as she reached for her coming were enough to undo him. He pressed his cock against her flesh and held himself still lest he shoot against her.

She rocked and crooned while he tapped her clit with delicious rubs of his thumb. She boiled in his lap, rolled against his hand, grabbed her left breast and pulled his mouth to it.

And then she grunted, harder than before, grunted and shuddered and imploded. She gushed against his hand in a flood and he slid a finger into her to help with her inner contractions. When he reached up into her, Jaye’s eyes rolled back into her head and she shook like a rag doll with her release.

She melted over him and he held on while she flowed into a puddle of hot woman and hotter pussy.

All he could think was he wanted to do it again. And for longer than two weeks.

Jaye focused inwardly, as she buckled her lap belt for the landing at Orly Airport. She had embarrassed herself by coming all over Alex’s lap with nothing more than his thumb on her clit, his knuckles kissing her pussy and his mouth on her breast. He’d hardly had to work at all.

When had she turned into a woman who could do that? And why was it so damn easy with him?

She’d had orgasms with other men. Granted, they were smaller, less messy and a very long time ago, but still, she’d had them. But they’d never been easy to come by.

Most of the time, the effort of reaching for them seemed like more trouble than they were worth. Weak, and short in duration, her orgasms were hardly memorable.

But Alex made her sing like a soprano. Each nerve taut with strain, her orgasms played out into a crescendo that built beyond endurance.

She smiled at his pleased expression as he studied her from his seat across the narrow jet.

A slight bump rattled through the cabin.

“Touchdown,” he said. “You weren’t nervous at all. You hardly noticed.” He seemed impressed by her refusal to be afraid.

“I was thinking of other things.” Now she was far from fearless. But was it fear of her growing feelings for him, or of flying in this small jet? Probably some of both.

“Like what? Something fun and sexy I hope.”

“I’m wondering why you make me come as quickly and as deeply as you do.”

An even more pleased expression crossed his features. “The why of it isn’t important. The act itself is quite amazing.”

“What do you mean?” She squirmed in her seat, already feeling the familiar pulses springing to life deep inside.

“I’ve never had a woman respond the way you do. You’re wetter, hotter, more urgent than anyone else.”

She didn’t want to think about all the other women he’d been with. Her own experiences were long ago, and paled in comparison. The jet rumbled to a crawl then began to taxi across the tarmac. She peered out the window, amazed at the sheer size of some of the aircraft landing on strips all around them. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows and her stomach growled.

“You’ll need to get your passport out, Jaye,” he said, bringing her attention back to him. He unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the overhead bunk. “Which bag is it in, one of your backpacks or the suitcase?”

“Passport?”

At the question, he turned to look at her with one brow raised. “Yes, your passport.”

Oh crap.
She pinched her nose between two fingers. “Don’t have one.”

“Did you leave it at home?”

“No, I didn’t say that.” The embarrassment of this way outdid her previous embarrassment about her deep everlasting orgasms. “I said I don’t have one.”

“Not at all?”

“I’ve never needed one.” She gave a small shrug. “I don’t take vacations,” she added.

He rested his forearms on the edge of his suitcase. “I’m sorry, I should have thought to ask before this.”

“So, now what?”

“Fly to England.”

“No meal in the café by the Seine?” She’d never meet the crazy old lady who cursed out the customers.

“Another time.”

She refused to wonder or to ask when that time would come.

“If I don’t have documentation, England won’t want me either.” Her heart rate picked up a couple beats. “I’ll understand if you just drop me back at my place,” she offered. “I didn’t mean to cause you any hassle, I just didn’t think of it.”

He’d promised her two weeks of living the high life. And that was what she wanted. She shushed the inner voice that whispered two weeks wasn’t long enough. Not by a long shot.