Mile High (Up in the Air #2)(37)

I sucked in a startled breath as he used the knife on the waistband of my pants, cutting towards himself. He cut to a few inches above the saddle, putting the knife back in his boot. He ripped my pants the rest of the way off. The initial sound of ripping made Demon start, but James calmed him with a few soothing words, still ripping away, until I wore only the chaps. My sex looked profoundly bare and obscene, surrounded by black suede chaps and nothing else, my top half still completely covered.

James reached behind me, rearranging the reigns, untying them to make them longer, and wrapping them around his right arm. He was giving Demon free reign, controlling him with his legs, as he’d said he would teach me to do.

He used firm hands on my hips to lift me up and poised me on the tip of his erection. He touched my sex with only his cock, moving his hips in small circles to spread my growing moisture onto his eager tip.

I moaned, jerking my hips. I wanted him to impale me so badly, just a quick thrust to ease the ache.

He did, his head jerking back to look up at me, his jaw clenched at the excruciatingly tight fit. He thrust straight to the hilt, and I melted around him.

“Oh, James,” I cried out with feeling. Even with him full inside of me, I still ached. My hips jerked in a request for movement. James clicked, and Demon began to walk. James moved with him, an expert rider, each movement of his hips a little thrust inside of me. My legs almost dangled behind his, my body had submitted to him so completely.

We watched each other as he moved inside of me, the movements half thrusts that left me gasping for more.

“Do you want a posting trot, Bianca?” James asked, his voice a growl.

I thought of the exaggerated movements of a posting trot. Oh God, yes, I wanted that.

“Yes,” I moaned.

“Beg me for it,” he said, in a strangely calm voice. How was he not more winded?

“Please, Mr. Cavendish, bring us to a posting trot.”

He just tsk’d at me impatiently. “That was a sad excuse for begging, Bianca. Now you only get the sitting trot.” He clicked Demon into a trot, keeping his seat. He sat the trot so smoothly, it barely increased his thrusting from the walk.

I moaned at him in distress, gripping his shoulders now. I needed more. I needed the deep thrusting that I had so quickly grown addicted to.

Our eyes never strayed from each other, his intense turquoise gaze imprinting itself on me inexorably.

“I beg you, Mr. Cavendish,” I tried again. “Please, f**k me at a posting trot. Please, please, please.”

His eyes smoldered at me, and he clicked the horse into the faster trot. “That is the tone I was looking for. Hold on, Love.”

He lifted me higher, his posting trot thrusting him into me with the longest, hardest strokes. I was close to screaming within seconds of the new rhythm.

“Come,” James growled, his eyelids heavy as he watched me. He impaled me hard and to the hilt as he spoke, and I fell apart in his arms. I was gasping, back in the ride again as he pulled out of me, dragging along each sensitive nerve. I was in a fever dream as he continued to thrust. I came again to his harsh command. And yet again, before he found his own rough release, shouting my name, his eyes going from hard and commanding to tender as the rapture took him.

He kissed me, still buried deep inside of me, as we floated back to reality, Demon slowing to an aimless walk.

I broke the spell several minutes later when I pulled back from his long kiss. “Have you ever done that before?”

His eyes shuttered, and I knew I wouldn’t like his answer. “Made love on horseback?” he asked.

My eyes narrowed, taking immediate exception to his wording. He seemed to me to be splitting hairs.

“Fucked someone on horseback,” I corrected.

He flushed, and my vision went a little red, knowing his answer. “I’ve f**ked a woman on horseback before, but it wasn’t like that. It was far more technical, almost clinical. It was more about seeing if it could be done, for me, than the actual doing. And I was barely an adult at the time.” He studied me, his eyes wide as he read the iciness that was blooming there. “Please don’t try to demean what we just shared.”

I heard his words as if at a distance, my mind suddenly recalling an appalling little detail I’d read in a tabloid, about James and Jules both coming from affluent English families who both shared a long history

as avid equestrians.

“Was it her?” I asked in a whisper, my eyes narrowed.

He squeezed me more tightly against him, as if sensing a threat. He buried his face in my neck before he spoke. “Who are you referring to?”

I stiffened even more. “Jules,” I said, my voice going glacial.

I felt him sigh against me. “It was. But it didn’t mean anything. Please don’t use her to keep me at a distance.”

I tried to move off of him, but he had me at a severe disadvantage, and he wasn’t letting me go.

Instead, he clicked Demon back into a brisk walk.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

He began to move inside of me again, his erection swiftly growing and hardening, as though it were a parlor trick.

I gasped, slapping at his shoulders. “You can’t use sex to subdue me,” I told him. I was hurt and angry, but also unwillingly and wildly aroused.

“You can’t withdraw from me every time you get mad or jealous. We need to talk this out. I’m not letting you go until we do.”