Mile High (Up in the Air #2)(29)

He set me down. “Take off your helmet. And your pants,.” he ordered, leaving the stall.

I obeyed, feeling very odd undressing in a horse stall.

He returned with a huge blanket, laying it on a thick pile of hay. I was just getting to my actual pants, having to first remove my chaps and boots. He lounged on his back on the blanket, peeling off his shirt.

He left his pants on, just pulling his breeches down to expose his hard length.

“Come ride me,” he ordered, his tone casual. “I want to see what you learned today.”

I approached his lounging figure, placing my feet on either side of his hips and lowering myself to my knees. I felt almost more exposed than I did when I was completely naked, with just my bottom half bare.

“Sit on my cock. I want to feel you. Now,” he said roughly when I hesitated.

I complied, lowering myself slowly, guiding him to my entrance with my hand. I impaled myself, inch by thick inch, shuddering as I did so. All of his teasing caresses had left me more than wet enough to accommodate his entrance.

“Good,” he said, when I’d seated myself to the hilt. “Now fix your seat and post.”

I thought he might be joking. I just couldn’t tell, but I did it nevertheless. I positioned my knees for best leverage, put my shoulders back, arched my back, and began to post. I moved up and forward, then down and back in big motions. I moved until only his tip was inside of me, then pushed back down in a jerky motion.

I rode him for long minutes, working myself more slowly towards my climax than James usually did.

My hands stroked over his magnificent chest covetously as I rode. It felt so good, unbelievably good, but when he was in control, it just did something for me that nothing else could. I watched him as I posted.

He had his hands folded behind his head in a casual pose, his lids heavy, watching me. I thought that this position must not quite be his preferred method, either.

“You’re bored,” I accused him, still moving, my voice a gasp.

He grinned, a wicked grin. I clenched around him just looking at it.

“Never. I would love to do this all day. It just so happens that I also could. It’s a lot easier for me to keep from coming when you’re in control. I’m sure I don’t have to explain why to you.”

He didn’t. What his control did for me, it did for him as well. In bed, we couldn’t have been more perfect for each other.

“Your post is extraordinary, Love. Especially considering your inexperience. Now for the sitting trot,” he said.

“Seat yourself to the hilt,” he instructed.

I did it on a gasp.

“Now just enjoy the ride.” He smiled, and took over the movement, bucking me up and down, his hands gripping my thighs. I caught his rhythm, but that was all. He was on the bottom, but he had suddenly taken all of the control. It was all that I needed.

I climaxed within seconds, crying out loudly enough to disturb any horses left in the stables. I started to go limp.

James slapped my ass, hard. “Keep your seat. I’m not done with you.”

And he wasn’t. He worked me from below for long minutes, grabbing my hips and thrusting up, again and again. He was so tireless. Like a machine, I thought, as he bucked high, bouncing me with the force.

My head fell back, my hands clutching his on my hips. I couldn’t reach anything else at that point in the wild ride. He reached up to pinch a nipple hard enough to bring tears to my eyes. My gaze went to his.

“Don’t look away. I need to see your eyes as you fall to pieces.” His voice was a harsh growl, his breathing heavy.

“Come, now,” he ordered finally, and it was my undoing, as always.

I fell apart, and he came with me, his eyes going to that forbidden place of tenderness that I craved, and feared, and tried so hard not to feel down to my soul.

“Oh, Bianca,” he whispered, cupping my cheek as I lowered myself to lay on his chest.

He shifted me so that he stayed inside of me securely. “You’re a marvel. I never imagined anyone could be so perfectly made for me.”

I shut my eyes, and felt a dreaded tear seep down my cheek. I felt his words deeply, but couldn’t find any of my own, so stayed silent.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Recovering and getting dressed again was a slow and languorous affair.

James did most of the work, laying me down to get my pants back on.

“I want to tie you to that hook and take you there, but your wrists need to heal from the last time,” he murmured as he fastened a chap back on.

I looked up at the hook he was talking about. A bridle hung from it. It did seem ideal for his purposes.

I glanced at my wrists. They were red with conspicuous abrasions. I hadn’t been able to put my watch back on. James had packed it somewhere, I knew. I would have to find a way to cover the marks at work. They could raise questions. They stood out starkly against my pale skin.

“I don’t mind,” I said softly. “I can barely feel them. You could try it. If it got too rough, that’s what my safe word is for, right?”

He gave me a wild kind of look. I was already able to read him so well. This look said ‘You shouldn’t encourage me.’

“You’re a dangerous woman,” he nearly growled. “I’ll be making all of the calls about your safety, since you apparently can’t be trusted to judge such things. Your wrists are in bad shape. I went too far the last time, whether you think they hurt now or not. We’ll leave them alone until they’ve healed.” He finished the long process of dressing the lower half of my body as he spoke.