Roux tugged his shirt up his belly, and Steve leaned back to help her draw it over his head. She leaned forward to pepper his chest with kisses, her hands fumbling with her leggings as she slid them off over her butt; she kicked them, her flat shoes, and panties aside. Holy hell. Once she made up her mind, she was all in. She pressed her hands against his shoulders.
“I want your mouth on me,” she said.
“We both want that,” he said, sinking to his knees and lifting her leg to rest on his shoulder.
His mouth watered at the smell of her sex; his balls tightened in response to her heat. He parted his lips to draw her clean-shaven pussy into his mouth, his tongue prepared to work her swollen clit. The floor dipped beneath him, and he grabbed her ass with one hand and the countertop with his other to steady them.
The intercom crackled, and Jordan’s sultry, accented voice said, “We’ve hit some nasty turbulence. Buckle up and prepare for a bumpy ride for the next thirty minutes or so.”
Steve was prepared to ignore the warning, but Roux was struggling to free herself from his grasp. She launched herself into her seat and fumbled with her seat belt, gorgeous eyes wide, fair complexion downright ghostly. Steve ran a hand over his face, trying to find the strength to climb to his feet.
The plane dipped again, and Roux whimpered. “Come put on your seat belt,” she said, grasping both armrests with a white-knuckled grip. “And bring my pants.”
He grinned. He’d been on enough flights that turbulence didn’t bother him much. “Come get them,” he said.
“Don’t be a dick. I’m half naked here.”
“I can fix that.” He crawled over to her seat, grateful for the immense amount of legroom in the luxury jet. Kneeling between her feet, he pulled her top off over her head and, before she could gather her wits enough to stop him, removed her bra as well.
“Now you’re all naked,” he said.
Every inch of her was perfection, especially the unique nuances of her flesh that most would label imperfections. He planned to get to know every part of her exterior intimately—from the round, puckered scar between her luscious breasts to the large flat mole on her hip to the pale blue paths of the vessels just beneath her fair skin—before he delved into her interior. He was especially enjoying the critical glare in her gold and green eyes as she raised an eyebrow.
“And how will the rescue crew who scrapes me off the ground after we crash explain my nakedness?”
“We aren’t going to crash.” He leaned forward and drew the tip of his tongue over her nipple.
“Steve, I’m not in the mood anymore.”
He grinned. “I can fix that too.”
His leisurely lick shifted to a powerful suction and there was no mistaking her gasp of excitement. Easy fix. He kissed his way to the scar made by the tragedy that had almost ended her and rested his lips there gently. He’d wanted to press his lips to that very spot since the moment she’d revealed her past, but now that he’d made that desire a reality, he had a hard time coming to terms with the sudden knot in his throat. To think someone who was supposed to love this treasure of a woman unconditionally had scarred her so severely—inside and out—had him pressing his forehead to the center of her chest and breathing through the tangle of emotion he was starting to relish. God, it had been so long since he’d allowed himself to feel like this. To care so much about a woman. It had been too long. And it might end up being much longer because he knew how severely it hurt when someone you loved with your entirety tore your fucking heart out.
Whoa. Step back. He hadn’t even fucked Roux yet, and his emotions were bouncing around like a drop of sweat on a drum skin. He, Steve the Callous, was entertaining thoughts of love. Was he ready to take a chance? A chance with this woman he scarcely knew but felt he’d always known? Would he be able to let Roux in, the way he’d let Bianca in? Let her see all of him? Not just the cool parts that he showed the world, but also the lame parts, the twisted parts, the gentle parts, and even the vulnerable parts. He’d soon know if she was worth his confidence, his utter devotion, and the potential heartache, because he’d never learned to love any other way. He was an all or nothing sort of guy, and he knew it. The realization scared the shit out of him.
“Did you fall asleep?” she murmured.
Fuck. How long had he been resting there thinking? Feeling? Why was he so crazy about her?
“God, I’m crazy about you.”
What? No. Don’t say thoughts like that out loud. Why would he say such a stupid thing? Thinking it was bad enough. He lifted his head and met her eyes, part of him wanting her to freak out and tell him to leave her alone, most of him hoping, praying, that she returned his feelings. Even a little.
“Is that why you’re making out with my scar instead of eating me out?”
Her delectable lips twisted into a sexually charged grin, and the answering surge of lust that flooded his groin made him light-headed.
“So you’re up for a little oral?”
A smoldering look darkened her eyes. “If you’re good at it”—her tongue wet her lips—“I’m up for a lot of oral.”
If he was good at it. If.
He hesitated, realizing she was leading him by the nose, and wondering why the fuck it turned him on so much. If he was good at it. He’d show her if. He’d make her come so fast and so hard, he’d be wearing her cum as a beard. If he was good at it. Please.
He swallowed and glanced down to her slightly parted thighs and bit his lip.
He hoped he was as good as past lovers claimed. He never could tell when a woman was inflating his ego or telling him the truth. What if every woman he’d ever touched had faked getting off?
Nah. Not possible.
Besides, why was he worried about that now? Maybe because he wanted Roux to be up for a lot of oral, not just a little. He trailed his hands up her silky bare legs, starting at her ankles, up a pair of shapely calves, behind her knees.
The plane dipped suddenly, and she gasped, fingers clutching at the armrests. “Maybe you should put on your seat belt,” she said.
Or maybe he should create his own turbulence. His fingertips skimmed her outer thighs, down the fronts, up the sides again. On the downward stroke, he shifted a bit closer to her center, back up the outsides, an inch closer to her inner thighs on the next downward pass. He could just yank her legs apart and get down to feasting—he doubted she’d resist—but he wanted her to open for him. He wanted her to ask for his touch. He wanted her to beg for release. As his fingers slid down the center of her thighs, her legs parted, and it took every shred of willpower within him to hold her gaze as he continued to stroke her smooth legs rather than stare at the heated flesh now revealed to him. He turned his hands so that the backs of his knuckles grazed the outsides of her thighs, stroking upward to the crest of her hipbones now, hands turning down there to trace the sexy V that outlined her sex. A gasp escaped her, and her eyes drifted closed. She was probably expecting him to shift his fingers to her cleft, but he followed the inner crease at the apex of her inner thighs and then slowly skimmed all eight fingers down the insides of her thighs.
“Aimes,” she moaned, her back arching.
“That’s not my name.”
Her eyelids opened, that familiar spark of fire simmering in their depths, but he repeated the same gentle motion on her now-trembling thighs, and her eyes drifted closed again.
“Steve.”
She whispered the name that he wanted on her lips, but not with the sound of deep longing he was searching for, aching for. He needed to push her farther. Hands continuing to stroke up and down her thighs in a slow, hypnotic rhythm, he lowered his head and pressed a soft kiss to her breastbone. He kissed a trail down the center of her belly—slowly, so slowly—matching the cadence of his fingertips. He dipped his tongue into her belly button, and she cried out, her thighs squeezing shut on his hands. He stayed where he was, kissing, licking, suckling her navel, giving her a taste of what her pussy had in store
whenever he decided to end this little game he was playing with her body.
“God, Aimes,” she said, her fingers releasing their hold on the armrests to delve into his hair. “Steve. I meant Steve. Please. Just . . . I can’t.”
“You can’t what, Red?” He nipped the sexy extra fold of skin at the top of her navel and tugged gently.
Her legs popped open wide, releasing his hands, and she hooked her knees over the armrests. The scent of her excitement had him reaching for his fly. He had his jeans unfastened and his cock free and gripped in a tight fist before he recovered his senses enough to remember it was his mission to make her lose control, not the other way around. He took several deep breaths, his excitement further fueled by the way she was pulling his hair, trying to get him to lower his mouth to her deliciously swollen, shiny, and delicately pink pussy.
The plane rolled through several belly-dropping air currents, and Jordan’s voice came over the intercom. “Hold tight. It’s about to get a bit rougher, but we’ll be out of this system soon enough.”
“Not soon enough,” Roux muttered.
“Maybe I should get back in my seat,” he said, blowing hot breaths against her lower belly and squeezing his fisted dick in an ineffectual attempt to calm himself.
Roux groaned. “You should, but I want . . .”
She unclasped her seat belt and shifted her entire body upward so that she was suspended above her seat with her thighs anchored firmly on the armrests. This put her pussy in convenient reach of his mouth. He rewarded her recklessness with a gentle flick of his tongue against her clit.
Her entire body buckled, and his cock jerked in response. Dear lord, was making her lose control really worth the effort of keep himself in check?
“Steve,” she whispered. “Please. Lick me there.”
The pleading in her tone made holding back completely fucking worth it. “Where, Red? Where do you want me to lick you?”
Her breath escaped in a rush. “My ass.”
Fuck. He hadn’t expected that request, but he was more than happy to accommodate her wishes. He drew the flat of his tongue over her ass, collecting her pussy’s sweet, freely flowing juices as he licked upward, and stopped just shy of delving his tongue inside her. God, he wanted to tongue fuck her sweet, swollen pussy. If just that little brush of his tongue over her asshole had her panting and quaking, he couldn’t wait to see her reaction when he really got down to business.
“Again,” she said, staring down at him.
He moved in reverse, wishing he could watch her face while he gave her ass an invigorating tongue massage. Her flesh quivered and tightened beneath his swirling tongue.
“That’s so dirty,” she gasped brokenly.
He was never afraid to get a little dirty. Or a lot dirty when the occasion called for it.
He licked his way to her clit, concentrating on sucking, flicking, and rubbing that sensitive spot in the choreographed sequence he’d perfected long ago. It had never failed to send a woman flying. Or pretending to fly.
God, where was that self-doubt coming from? He’d just have to up his game and ensure he made her come.
Roux thrashed her back against her seat, making it impossible to keep true to his method. He grabbed her ass firmly in both hands to hold her still.
“I think . . .” Roux said. “I think I’m going to come.” She sounded surprised. “Wait. I . . .”
Her legs shifted, closing on his head. Surprised, he jerked back, and scarcely caught the feral look on her face before she tackled him into the aisle, straddled him, grabbed his cock none-too-gently, and slipped his tip inside her. She sank down, taking him deep. He groaned, lost in her heat, and lifted his hips, holding her waist to press deeper. Her answering raspy moan made his toes curl, and he knew the next time he heard her sing, he’d be transported back to this very moment. God, her voice was sexy.
She rose over him slowly, whimpering when she sank down again. Leaning forward, she pressed her palms against his chest and took him higher and higher as she found her rhythm. Their rhythm. As expected, it was a frenzied tempo.
Damn, she felt good. He hadn’t been inside a woman without protection for years. And she didn’t seem like the type to forget such an important detail. The idea that she was so into him that she’d fuck him skin to skin had him clenching the carpet with his fingertips and trying hard not to come. Her rhythm was intense. Relentless. Perfect. Surely she’d let go soon so he could join her in bliss.
Maybe she needed a little help. He released his fingertips from their hold on the rough carpet at his back and lifted them to her small breasts, relishing the feel of their pebbled tips rubbing against his palms as her body shifted up and down. He pinched each nipple between a thumb and forefinger before releasing them and slowly drawing his fingertips down over her ribs, belly, and hips. When his thumbs brushed her mound, she shuddered and jerked her hips to one side. The sudden change of sensation almost sent him to the point of no return. He sucked in a deep breath and tensed every muscle in his body to hold back. She shifted so that her knees were pressed tight into his sides and rose up so she wasn’t taking him as deep. She also upped her tempo. The intensity of that motion on his cockhead was too much pleasure for him to take. If she kept it up, she’d finish him off in seconds. He pulled her hips down and pressed deep, rotating his hips to try to lessen his pleasure. Wasn’t working that well for him, to be honest.
“Will you just come already?” Roux growled.
He opened his eyes, surprised by her exasperated tone. “Not until you do.”
“I can’t. Do you want me to fake it?”
His ego whimpered like a kicked dog. “Of course not. We can take as long as you need. Do you want me on top?”
“No, I want you to come. I can tell you’re fighting it.”
“And I’ll keep fighting it until you finish.”
“I already told you I can’t.”
Her frustration was palpable. He reached up and cupped her face, trying to ignore the deep ache in his balls. He really did want her to come first, no matter how much his anatomy was arguing with him.
“Are you uncomfortable?” They were fucking on the floor of a small private jet, after all; maybe she was worried that the crew would interrupt. But they knew to stay in the cockpit when he had a woman onboard. “No one is going to interrupt us, if that’s what has you worried.”
“I literally cannot come when I’m with a man, okay? It isn’t you, it’s me. So just finish, will you?”
He gaped at her. “You’ve never had an orgasm?”
She slapped his chest. It hurt, and he liked it.
“Of course I’ve had an orgasm. I own a damned vibrator. It’s just . . .” She looked away. “This is not the conversation I want to be having right now.”
“So it is me.”
She shook her head. “It’s not. I’ve been with men—good lovers, not just duds, though I’ve had some of those as well—and I just can’t let go. I don’t know why. Not even when I’ve been with the same guy for a long time.”
He was pretty sure he knew why. Trust. She had never trusted a man to have control over her body, over her pleasure.
“You almost came when I was licking you,” he said. “Why did you stop me then?” He’d thought it had been because she was so turned on she couldn’t wait to have him inside her. Now he wasn’t so sure.
“I don’t know. I was . . .” She turned her gaze to the ceiling, and he feared she was about to cry.
His dick was already crying from abuse, but he sat up and wrapped his arms around her back, dropping gentle kisses on her throat.
“Sorry,” she whispered. “If you want to take me home, I’ll understand.”
What? Hell no. And now he was on a mission. He would make this woman come if it killed him. And as he turned her gently to her back and forced his dick to withdraw from the warm, wet haven between her long thighs, he thought he just might die before he claimed his victory.
“Relax
,” he said.
“Steve.” She touched his hair. “We can try some other time. I know you must be hurting. Just go ahead and finish.”
He grinned. “If you haven’t figured this out about me yet, I’m a stubborn son of a bitch, and I absolutely refuse to come before you do.”
She laughed. “Well, they’re your balls. If you like them blue, that’s your business.”
Thirteen
Roux didn’t know whether to be relieved or mortified that she’d told Steve her horrible little secret their first time together. She’d kept Travis in the dark throughout their entire eight-month relationship. Not because she was good at faking, but because he didn’t seem to care that she never hit her peak and had never bothered to ask about it. Hell, she doubted he’d noticed. But she felt bad for Steve, because she’d gotten him all excited and hadn’t been able to deliver promised release before he figured out that she was frigid. Well, not frigid exactly. She enjoyed sex. It felt amazing and made her feel close to her partner. She just couldn’t let go. Not when anyone else was present. She’d planned to lock herself in the bathroom after he finished and give herself some much-needed relief, but now the pussy was out of the bag, so to speak.
“How many men have failed you?” Steve asked, drawing her attention to his sexy brown eyes. He squeezed them shut and shook his head. “Don’t answer that. I don’t want to know.”
“A handful,” she offered. Would he think that was a lot or wonder why so few?
“It’s only you and me now.” He buried his hands in her hair and kissed her and kissed her and kissed her until every nerve ending in her body was responsive to his strong, sensual lips and her belly was quivering like gelatin. The entire back of her body seemed to melt into the floor, while her front awakened to the feel of his warm skin against hers. Her nipples tingled with want and her pussy ached in its emptiness. Even if he didn’t make her come—and she honestly doubted anyone could—she still wanted him inside her desperately.
Staged (Exodus End World Tour, #3) Page 14
