Grounded (Up in the Air, #3)(72)

That was a bit of a shock to me, though perhaps it shouldn’t have been. I wasn’t experienced with the scene, but his control was so perfect that I should have assumed that he’d had some sort of training.

“That was when I met Frankie. She’s three years older than I am, and she knew her stuff. They don’t accept you into that scene until you’re eighteen, for obvious reasons, so the three years she had on me were three years of experience with BDSM. I hit on her at first, tried to turn her into a sub, and ya know, straight, but she laughed in my face. Even after that, though, she went out of her way to mentor me—to teach me the rules. In that community you aren’t even allowed to approach a woman until you’re properly vetted. To this day she’s one of my closest friends.”

“I was still indiscriminately promiscuous for years, but the BDSM was so much more satisfying for me, and eventually I went all in, but even my contracted subs were strictly a sexual thing. There’s an entrance to the fourth floor aside from my elevator, and most weren’t even allowed into my home outside of that floor. You can’t imagine what an anomaly you were for me, Bianca. Intimacy was unbearable to me before I set eyes on you. You’ve changed so many things for me, and I never dreamed that could be such a wonderful feeling. I feel like I’ve been brought to life, like I’m a real person now, instead of a pretender.”

I knew all too well how that felt. I doubted many people could have understood as perfectly as I did just what he meant by that.

“Yes,” I whispered, watching those exquisitely tarnished eyes. “I feel that way too. I know exactly what you mean.”

He gave me a desperate kind of look. “I know you do. I’ve told you from the start that we were made for each other, and I truly believe that. Things are going to be extra rough for a while, because of this video, and particularly with the press. I’m begging you, Bianca, please stick it out with me. Don’t withdraw, don’t take a break. Not even a little one.”

It stung a little that he didn’t trust me, but I knew that was my fault. My eyes and voice were steady. “I won’t, James. I’m staying. I love you.”

His face went a little slack, as though the words were still a shock to him. “Thank you. I love you, too. More than life, Bianca.”

I didn’t like that last part. It sounded too self-sacrificing, bringing to mind my dark nightmares of late.





[page]CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Mr. Porn Star





We decided to work out, since we’d slept most of the day, and I was flying out early the next morning. The idea was to work off the excess energy that too long of a nap had given me.

I didn’t mind working out, but I took it easy, mostly sticking to a stationary bike and watching James as he worked over every piece of equipment in his large gym. He was a shirtless sight to behold as he strained himself. My jaw went completely slack as he did mouthwatering pull-ups, his shorts riding low. I thought I may have found a new reason to love hitting the gym.

He grinned at me as he moved to the free weights. “Keep looking at me like that if you want to get f*cked on a stationary bike, Love.”

I didn’t have a problem with that, so I kept looking.

He watched me back in the room’s mirror-lined walls. I ran my eyes over his body. Even his calves were sexy, I thought. So long and lean, but with that hard play of muscle under the surface.

He set down his weights. “That’s it. Come here.”

I walked over to him without hesitation.

He led me to a spot in front of the mirror. He began to peel off my clothes without another word. I let him, watching our reflections as he bent over me. I loved the look on his face as he tended to me. It was so tender, and almost peaceful, as he took care of me.

When I was naked, he lifted my arms above my head. We were next to a piece of equipment and there was a bar above my head. It was adjustable, and he shifted it until I could reach it. “Grip it,” he told me.

I reached up to grip it. The movement pulled harshly at my tender breasts, but I didn’t say a word, because then he might stop…

He pressed into my back, watching me in the mirror. His hands ran over the front of my body as we watched our reflections. He cupped just the undersides of my breasts very carefully, but quickly released them. One hand moved down to cup my hip, and the other snaked down, along my ribs, past my naval, and into my sex. He fingered me, but stopped abruptly. He held his wet fingers up.

“You’re always wet for me. Always. I f*cking love that,” he said roughly.

His shorts hit the floor, and he positioned himself against me from behind. He parted me with hard hands on the fronts of my thighs, pulling me back against him. I watched his knees bend then straighten as his cock disappeared inside of me.

“Oh God,” I gasped as he rammed into me.

I watched as he pulled out. It was a long, drawn-out process, my view superb on his massive arousal between my legs from behind.

“How’s your grip?” he asked, driving back into me.

I had to swallow to answer, my eyes still glued to his magnificent cock.

“Good,” I managed.

“Good. Look at me, Bianca. I’m going to f*ck you really hard. I need you to tell me if your grip is slipping.”

I nodded, meeting his eyes.

He bit his lip and started hammering into me in earnest. I whimpered, loving the mixture of pleasure and pain as he f*cked me so hard that it hurt. I craved this the most, I thought.