Mile High (Up in the Air #2)(20)

I realized I was tired enough to sleep with a sudden yawn.

James saw, giving me a hooded look. “Ready to go to bed?” he asked.

“Are you tired?” I asked him, about to tell him he didn’t have to join me if he wasn’t.

His eyes seared me. “Love, I’ve been waiting for weeks to see you. Sleep is the last thing on my mind.” As he spoke, he unbuckled me, pulling me to my feet and leading me to the back of the plane, without further ado.

Just before we reached the closed door at the back, he let go of my hand, reaching up to the ring on my choker, hooking a finger inside. He didn’t even glance back at me, but I felt a change in him.

He opened the door, pulling me into a surprisingly large bedroom. He led me around the room, showing me where I could find the things I’d need. Half of the clothes in the closet were women’s clothes. Dare I ask? “Will those fit me?”

“I would hope so,” he answered in an icy tone. “I had my shopper buy them for you, and she had all of your measurements.”

The bathroom was tiny, but held the essential toiletries that I might need.

He was unbuttoning my blouse, his chest against my back, before we’d finished the short tour. He pulled it off my arms, unsnapping my front clasping bra with one swift motion. He had my skirt unzipped and falling to my feet in a flash.

Unexpectedly, he bit down between my neck and shoulder, right on the tendon, hard enough to make me jerk. He sucked on the wound he’d made, and I moaned.

“Leave the shoes on. Lie down on your back, and spread your legs,” he ordered.

I obeyed.

He pulled restraints from under the mattress, fastening my wrists, and then my ankles. I felt a sensual haze overtake me as I gazed at him. I was spellbound as I watched him undress.

He shrugged out of his shirt in one smooth motion. I held my breath as he undid the button and zipper of his pants, releasing his erection. He pushed them to the floor, stepping out of them and immediately stepping up to the bed.

He studied me for long minutes, his intense eyes drinking me in, as though memorizing the sight.

“I missed you,” he said, his voice a harsh whisper, and I believed him.

He crawled onto the foot of the bed, burying his face between my legs before I saw his intent.

I gasped as he licked at me with long, perfect strokes. He sucked at my clitoris and I whimpered. He had me on the brink of orgasm in seconds, but pulled back suddenly, going back to slowly licking me.

“James, please,” I begged him.

I got no response, just the slowest lick along my core.

“Mr. Cavendish, please,” I tried again.

He moved up my body, licking and sucking at my naval. He spent drawn-out minutes at my br**sts, sucking hard on my ni**les for endless minutes, kneading at my full br**sts, until that alone had me close to the edge. He stopped short there, as well.

I sobbed.

He left no part of my exposed body untouched, rubbing, pinching, sucking, biting. It was the most exquisite torture.

His heavy arousal dragged along my body as he moved, and I tugged hard at my restraints, trying to get closer to that part of him. I pulled so hard at them that my hands and feet began to go numb, but James never let up.

I tried begging again. “I beg you, Mr. Cavendish.”

He ignored the words, never speaking, never letting up.

“Are you punishing me, Mr. Cavendish?” I finally cried.

“Of course I am,” he murmured against my skin, and there was steal in his voice. “I can’t whip you. This is the alternative. Do you prefer the whipping?”

“Yes,” I said without hesitation. There was no comparison in my mind. One liberated me, and the other made me feel desperate and exposed. Tears seeped down my cheeks as he relentlessly worked on my body.

“Why?” I asked breathlessly.

He thrust two fingers into me suddenly, and my back bowed on a gasp.

His own breathing was harsh as he spoke, stroking me purposefully. “Just to give you a taste. I was desperate for you. To comfort you, to tend to you. Hell, just to look at you. But you withdrew from me completely, until I was pathetically grateful for just a text from you, and even that you withheld most of the time. So I needed to give you at least a small taste of the wanting.” He worked his fingers along just the perfect spot as he spoke.

I was tensing with my approaching orgasm when he pulled his fingers out.

I screamed in frustration.

He kissed me. It was a bruising kiss, and I tasted myself on his mouth. He plundered my mouth as he positioned himself above me. I began to whimper loudly as I felt his c**k right at my entrance. He teased, rubbing in circles there. I tried to thrust up at him, but merely served to further strangle my ankles in the process.

“I-I’m sorry I did that,” I told him finally. “You scare me. The way I feel about you scares me, so I ran.”

He thrust inside of me as I spoke.

I screamed. He moaned.

He propped himself on his elbows, thrusting furiously, but holding my gaze with his own. He tugged on the loop of diamonds on my collar as he thrust, and I felt the pull there, the connection that it symbolized.

“Nothing in my life has ever felt as perfect as being inside of you,” he gasped out, cupping my face, his punishing pace never letting up. “Come, Love,” he ordered.

I did. “James,” I cried, and I watched his eyes as his own release took him.