Chapter 31

Zach was glad the table between them was hiding the hard-on he had right now because he knew his suit slacks were not up to the task.

“No kissing,” she demanded, releasing his wrist to unbuckle her

seatbelt and stand up. “I just want to fuck and be fucked.”

He bit back a sarcastic response—he was too much of a businessman to blow this opportunity. If it had to happen on her terms, so be it. “There’s a bed in back… ” he offered.

“No. Too real. I don’t want you getting ideas. Right here.” She pointed to his chair.

“If that’s what you want.” He’d already taken his suit jacket off prior, so his hands reached for the knot of his tie, then paused as he watched her strip her T-shirt off.

The last time they’d fucked it’d been desperate too, and he’d kicked himself later for not remembering more details—he wouldn’t let that happen twice. She reached up and pulled the elastic out of her hair, letting her blonde hair brush her shoulders, standing in her low-slung military cargo pants. The purple and blue nebula-like backgrounds behind her constellation tattoos shadowed her ribcage beneath a black cotton bra.

She glared at him. “Catch up.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he teased, setting their plates down on the ground after kicking out the support beneath the table between them. It stowed against the wall, and he began undoing his belt. She was already working on the zippers on the insides of her boots, kicking them off, and then undoing enough of her belt to let her pants, weighed down with the munitions in her pockets, fall to the floor. She approached him with the gaze of a feral animal.

She didn’t trust him, he realized. Or maybe it wasn’t him.

Maybe she didn’t trust at all.

He freed himself from his slacks and felt the heavy weight of his swollen cock arch up.

“Back up,” she said like he wasn’t attached to it, but he pushed the plush chair he was in almost flat.

She approached him warily, setting a knee on the cushions on either side of his thighs and her hands above his shoulders, on the chair’s back. She still had her bra and underwear on and Zach had no idea what all the rules were right now, but he wanted to find out.

“Can I touch you?” he asked.

She nodded subtly and closed her eyes.

He wrapped his hands around her waist and sent them stroking down over her ass, feeling the plump curve of muscle beneath her thin underwear. Then he brought his hands higher, sweeping up her waist, her chest. She was this perfect combination of soft and strong—smooth skin, and lean muscle—and he could’ve spent hours letting his fingertips trace her skin, memorizing how she felt.

His hands slowly rose to cup her small breasts, feeling her nipples perk up beneath the fabric as he ran his thumbs over them, wishing it was his tongue instead. He lightly pinched one to see if she’d like it, and she made a soft sound of excitement, so he did it again with one hand, rubbing and tugging it through the fabric, as he sent his other hand down to run a finger beneath the waistband of her underwear.

“Can I go inside?” he asked, his voice so rough it surprised him.

She nodded, more strongly this time, although her eyes stayed closed, her red lips pressed together in a line. His lower hand slid beneath the fabric, through the light trim of her hair, and he rocked his thumb in to find her clit. She sighed when he reached it, and her pillowy lips stayed parted to breathe softly in time with his touch.

Stella moved her hips, rocking in time with him, and the heavier scent of her sex hit him like a wall as her wetness slicked his thumb. He stroked her clit in small circles, listening to her moan, watching her bite her lips and swallow, wishing she would just look at him.

And see him.

Waiting.

Ready.

It wasn’t that he wanted her to fall—but he wanted with every fiber in his being to have an excuse to catch her.

She moaned a little louder and the sound of it plucked his need like it was a bowstring. He could feel his desires vibrating up and down his core. Mere inches below his hand, his aching cock was practically drooling precum, waiting for its chance to enter her—and if he didn’t get to, after waiting all this time for a second chance, it felt like the weight of his despair would plunge the whole plane to the ground.

“Can I use my hand?” he asked, rocking his thumb further back, starting to open her up.

“Uh-huh,” she whispered with a nod. He shifted his whole hand then, pushing it into her underwear fingers first, cupping her soft folds for a second before pushing through them, his two middle fingers sinking into her tight heat. She panted at that, rolling her hips against them, and he made sure to rub her right, sending his fingertips to pull at the spot where he wanted to aim his cock inside her soon.

Saying he wanted her was an understatement. If the devil had slunk aboard the plane and told him he could be inside her if only he signed his whole company away, he would have sold his soul for a pen.

“Stella, can I fucking take you?” he growled before he could stop himself. He was ready, she was ready, and he needed to be buried in her, deep.

Her hips stopped and her eyes blinked open. He slowly pulled his fingers out, worried that he’d scared her away, and unable to imagine a world in which they didn’t fuck.

Then she looked down at him, as if from a great distance. Her expression was so clouded, so lost, he didn’t even know if she was seeing him. He downshifted immediately—all he wanted to do was hold her in his arms and ask her what was wrong.

As long as they were together, they could figure things out.

“Stella?” he asked, worried for her.

Her attention snapped to him again, eyes bright. “I need this,” she demanded, reaching between them for his cock. She circled his softening shaft with her hand.

His attention was instantly riveted by her touch, and exiting blood reversed course. “You’re… sure?” he managed to ask. He needed to know now, while he still had a chance at thinking straight.

“Yeah,” she said, nodding, lowering herself down as she aimed him up. He hooked her underwear out of the way with a thumb and watched. “Just —this,” she said, as she started to part for him. “Yeah—like that.”

Her wet heat sucked at his tip like a kiss and he groaned, fighting not to shove himself up or pull her hips down. “It is,” he agreed. “God—Stella—” he went on as she kept rocking herself lower, working her wetness down him in a series of slow strokes.

All the women he’d rebuffed in the meantime, all the self-doubt and self-recrimination in the middle of the night, all the futile jacking off in his shower every morning… He arched himself up to help her, giving her as much of himself as she could handle, before making a guttural sound when he was fully planted in her and they were sealed, her hot little cunt holding his fat cock tight.

He’d been right to wait.

Because she was perfection.

His hands clenched at her thighs, wanting to memorize what it felt like being wrapped inside her, knowing that the only thing that would feel better than this now would be to get to thrust, but worried that once he started he'd never stop. He felt like a rocket ready to go off. Months of waiting, longing, and not knowing, were compressed into this moment like a spring.

She made a satisfied sound, and rolled her hips against him, and when she looked down again her pupils were wide and her jaw dropped. She was in this moment with him now, and whatever demons had been chasing her were gone.

“Fuck me hard, Zach,” she pleaded, and he was all too happy to oblige.