‘Do you think that’s likely?’
I shake my head and hold my breath, because his tip is between my legs, his possession so close I’m incapable of anything but waiting, of needing. Longing has overtaken me. My body is marked by his touch. Red on my breasts from his beard, between my thighs, purple bruises from where he’s kissed me and sucked my flesh until blood has discoloured the surface.
He presses forward but only by degrees—it’s in no way enough. I am hungry to feel all of him. Every single part of him. I lift my hips, taking him deeper, but he pulls back, his eyes clashing with mine, strength and warning in every line of his face.
I get the message. He wants to do this. It’s his game. And while he’s been playing it in such a way that I’m the winner, it goes against the grain to surrender completely. I like to run the game too. So I lift my hands to his chest, pushi
ng him. Surprise is the only advantage, the only reason I’m able to topple him onto his back. I grin, my eyes meeting his with a matching challenge, and before he can question what I’m doing I straddle him and move down his length.
But, Christ.
I have to go slowly too because he’s huge and it’s been a long time since I’ve been with anyone, and the feeling is somewhat foreign at first. I take my time, aware that he’s watching me, his breath hissing out from between his teeth, and I get comfortable bit by bit, then move lower until finally I’m sitting on his hips, his cock buried inside of me. I stay like that, giving my body every opportunity to adjust to this, then he flicks his hips so I laugh, but the noise quickly transforms to a moan. I lean forward, my breasts crushed to his chest, fingers digging into his shoulders—I have marked his body in all the ways he’s marked mine. Scratches abound. There’s a bite mark on his hip.
I find his lips, kissing them slowly as I move up and down, not quickly, just gently—this is an exploration more than anything else—but it’s not enough for him and I have to remind myself that I’ve come several times while he has been all that is attentive and patient. His hands grip my hips and he’s moving me easily, guiding me up and down his length so my already sensitive body, my overstretched feelings ring like wind chimes in a storm. I drop my head to his shoulder, kissing him, biting him, tasting his salty flesh and then he rolls us so I’m beneath him, the weight of his body atop mine instantly delightful.
Like this, he’s so much deeper and his thrusts are harder so I’m crying out in seconds, digging my heels into the mattress to get purchase, pushing my hips up as he drives into me. My nails run down his back and then his mouth is crushing mine, his kiss dominating every single one of my senses.
Heat fills my veins; my eyes are laced with stars. His name fills my mouth, pushes to his mouth and he kisses it right back into my soul. ‘I’m coming,’ I whimper, because the fiercest orgasm of them all is gripping me, and this time I’m not alone.
‘Hell, yes,’ he groans, and he drives himself into me, tipping us both over the edge so I hear my name deep in his chest and then on his lips and I capture it with my mouth, tasting it, feeling his absolute and complete surrender to me. He pumps and my muscles squeeze him, his body racked with the force of his orgasm; my legs wrap around his waist and hold him tight to my body and my hands work slowly up and down his back as though I’m calming a raging human. There is a beating of a faraway drum like the metronomes I remember from music class, but I don’t listen to it. I hear only this. My heart, his heart, pleasure, release and, yes, relief because finally we are freed from this madness, our obliteration mutual and complete. There is no further need to torment ourselves with this utter desperate want.
It’s like the bursting of a dam, the freeing of a tsunami. I lie there, my back pressed to the sheet, his tortured breathing filling the room, the plane moving steadily closer to earth, my pulse settling, my body aching and throbbing and pulsing with impossible pleasures.
I feel as though I boarded a flight and got sucked into some kind of hurricane, the current dragging me into the atmosphere, away from everything I thought I felt and knew, swirling me around so my limbs are spread and then spitting me out somewhere almost unrecognisable. That is to say, I barely recognise myself. Before Grant I dated Shawn, but he was the first guy since Dave—with good reason. Dave took me a long time to recover from. Not just Dave but what we lost together. I’ve been hesitant to get involved with any guy because of Dave, and definitely hesitant to let my body have full throttle at its desire.
But here I am, windswept by a hurricane I didn’t see coming, and not even a little bit sorry I didn’t seek better shelter.
This was amazing. But also it was enough. There’s perfection in uniqueness. One experience, one memory, one time.
‘Good morning, Mr Hart.’ The disembodied voice of the captain crackles into the room. Holden doesn’t react. I lie there, eyes open, heart thudding, and listen.
‘We’re commencing our final descent into Sydney. If you take a seat and fasten your seat belt, we’ll have you on the tarmac in twenty minutes.’
He doesn’t move but my well-trained ears clock the shifts that are taking place. The flaperons being lowered, the clicking away of galley furniture, all the operations that make it possible for the plane to land safely. He shifts a little, giving me breathing space, and I take full advantage, wriggling out from under him, separating our bodies with genuine regret, and taking the briefest moment to steady my still-rushing pulse before I stand at the side of the bed.
I don’t look at him as I scout the room for my clothes. There’s a very clear path of destruction. I pull my thong on first, then my bra, but, before I can get my shirt in place, he’s standing behind me, still naked, his body warm, his hands lifting to cup my breasts, his mouth dropping to niggle at my ear.
My stomach twists.
I want—what?
I spin in the circle of his arms, looking up into his face, and I smile. It’s all I can think to do.
His eyes move from one side of my mouth to the other, a frown on his face, as though he’s not quite sure how to interpret the gesture.
‘Thank you,’ I say simply. ‘That was incredible.’ And it was. I pull away from him, dressing quickly. I feel him watching me, which makes my fingers fumble. Then I walk towards the door, double-checking I haven’t forgotten anything before I leave.
‘Where are you going?’
I press my fingers to the door handle, lowering it before turning to face him briefly. ‘Back to work. Enjoy your stay in Sydney, Mr Hart.’ I wink, give him one more grin and then slip out of the room, my pulse hammering so much harder than my casual departure would indicate.
* * *
Sydney glitters beneath us as we come in to land. The famous Opera House sparkles like a pearl against the moody darkness of the ocean, the lights of the city casting a shimmering glow across the water. I take a crew seat, buckle in and refuse to think about Holden Hart and what we’ve just done. Not because I’m ashamed, not because I regret it, but because I know it can only be a one-time thing and if I’m not careful I’ll want to push out of the crew seat, stride back to where he is and beg him for one more night.
And then what?
Another? And another?