Grounded (Up in the Air, #3)(83)

Those tarnished depths glittered at me as he made me fall over that fine edge again. He didn’t let up, pounding me until I knew I’d be deliciously sore, topping me from the bottom, controlling my body’s movements without having to utter a word. I loved that the most, that I could put myself into his control and, at least here, like this, he always knew just what I needed.

He brought me again and watched my eyes as I fell apart before he let himself pour into me with that rough little moan that I loved best.

He was pulling himself out of me when he froze. His eyes shot to mine, his concerned. “You’re bleeding,” he told me.

I grimaced. “Ich. I’m starting my period. Sorry. I think maybe we jumpstarted it.”

He laughed, looking relieved. “As long as I didn’t do it. And don’t be sorry. I don’t mind.”

He pushed my hips back against the edge of his desk, pushing my dress up high. I tried to bat his hands away.

He laughed again. “This is where you draw the line? I’ll never understand why some things are more taboo than others.”

“And that’s what makes you so kinky, the fact that you don’t see the difference.”

He just shrugged. He was at peace with the kinky part. “Lift up your leg. Let me look at you.”

I batted his hands away again, cringing when I saw the blood on his suit. “I don’t even want to know the price of the suit we just destroyed.”

He looked down at himself and shrugged. “I don’t give a f*ck about the suit. I do give a f*ck about that scandalized look on your face. You have to realize that’s just like blood in the water for me.”

“Literally,” I muttered, still batting his hands away.

“Get your ass on the desk,” he said with a grin. “I want to go down on you while you blush like that.”

I glared at him, painfully embarrassed. Just the thought had me frozen to the spot in mortification.

“I’m going down on you,” he told me in a stern voice, though the smile still playing around his mouth kind of ruined it. “On the desk or in the shower. I’ll let you pick that much.”

“Shower,” I said quickly. It seemed far preferable. At least there wouldn’t be a mess in the shower.

He pulled me into the bathroom, stripping us both and leaving our clothes in messy heaps on the floor.

He didn’t draw it out, pushing me against the tiled wall and going to his knees in the steamy spray. He buried his face against my core, throwing my thigh over his shoulder. I gripped his hair, letting him take most of my weight as he worked his clever tongue against me. And if his tongue was clever, his fingers were brilliant. Both worked me, playing on different nerves, drawing moans out of me, and pushing me over that fine edge in swift moments. I lost all recollection of my own embarrassment under his perfect touch.

He stood, driving hard into me even as he straightened. I whimpered, waves of pleasure still rocking through me deliciously. I was a little sore, but conditioned as I was, that sore only added to the pleasure.

He kissed me hard, driving his tongue into my mouth as he drove his rampant cock into my core. I tasted myself on him—and him, all mixed with the taste of copper. It was different, but not unpleasant.

“See,” he said, driving into me, pounding me into the wall, my thigh slung over his arm and pushed high. “You can still come when you’re bleeding. It doesn’t magically turn off your orgasm button.”

I tried to give him an exasperated look, but it was hard to manage when he was f*cking the sense right out of me. “I-I didn’t…mmm…think…that’s…”

“Your body belongs to me, Bianca, no matter the f*cking time of the month,” he growled against me. Only he could find a way to use my period as a way to show his possession. It was my last thought before he pounded them all right out of me, and I came again, gasping into his mouth. He kept thrusting, finally arching up high, pushing me up with the motion as he bottomed out hard. He grunted and shuddered against me, his hand sliding up into my hair as he let me see what his pleasure did to him through those turquoise depths. I loved every second of it.

We were dried off and getting dressed before he spoke again, his back to me.

“I guess I earned my red wings.” There was a smile in his voice.

I blushed down to my toes.





[page]CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Mr. Domesticated





The issue of the sex tape still ran rampant through the headlines, but as far as James and I were concerned, it was old news. We had moved on. I took that as an encouraging sign. We were good together. We hashed things out and they were settled, instead of coming up again and again, like they seemed to in so many toxic relationships that I’d observed.

That Friday marked our last New York layover. The crew wanted to go out, of course, but James wanted to have a late lunch with his friends Parker and Sophia. I didn’t see why we couldn’t do both.

Sophia met us at the door to their luxury apartment, a wriggling child in her arms. I thought it was a boy, though his hair was kind of long, and his face was so pretty that it was hard to tell at a glance.

James swung the child from her arms and up onto his shoulders without a word. “This is Elliot,” he told me with his most charming smile. “Elliot, this is Bianca. Say nice to meet you, Bianca.”