Every movement is more intense than the last, harder, faster. I thought this was supposed to hurt, but nothing has ever felt this good in my life.
"We have to be quiet," he whispers in my ear. "I want to do so many things to you that aren't quiet."
I grip him tighter and whisper, "Like what?"
"I'll bet I can make you come just by spanking you."
I shudder. "What?"
"You heard me. Think about it," he says when I can barely think about anything. "I know you want my hands on your perfect ass. I can feel it every time I touch you. You want it all, don't you?"
He thrusts deeper, if that's even possible.
"Breathe with me," he murmurs.
Aiden's cock throbs inside me as our breath begins to synchronize. I close my eyes and feel his body expanding against mine as he draws breath, and expand mine in time with his. Our heartbeats, the motion of his body and mine, our breaths—it all becomes one. A heavy, expanding feeling spreads through my body, hotter and faster, spreading under my skin. I'm losing myself in this.
My back arches under him, and I cry out, shuddering, succumbing, almost there.
"Come," he purrs in my ear, "come now."
It's like he has some magic power. He says it, and it happens. As I reach the very peak of my climax, he thrusts in deep and groans in my ear, loud and hot, as he reaches his own peak, his body quivering against mine. His hardness throbs within me as he finishes, filling me up.
Dizzy, I sink back into the bed. Every bead of sweat on my skin is a little cold spot as he lifts away, rising on his elbows and knees. Soft kisses rain on my chin and throat. I bite his lip when he kisses me, and he grins, tugging lightly on mine with his teeth. He draws out of me and kneels on the bed, tracing his finger down my belly. I shiver and twist away, every sensation too intense to handle.
Panting, I lie curled on my side in the afterglow.
"We need to get back to the party," he says, patting my back. His fingers curl in my hair, drawing it away from my face. "So how was your first time?"
"Uuuughhhhh," is all I can manage.
He kisses my cheek. "Good. That's what I was going for."
I move to dress. Aiden snatches my underwear before I can put them on and stuffs them in his pocket, a smirk on his face, eyes aglow in the gloom.
"I'm going to have these framed. Or maybe I'll just keep them on me to sniff when you're not around."
"Ewww," I blurt out, giggling.
He zips my dress, and I help him with his clothes. It's a struggle to keep my hands off him, not to pull him off the bed.
"Listen," he says, "head out the way we came. I’ll head out through the Asian art collection, then down the stairs. We have to split up."
I nod. He kisses my forehead.
"Tomorrow morning we're going to a different place, where we can just be us."
With a gentle caress, he leaves me in the dark. We sneak out and head in opposite directions. By the time I wind back around to the staircase, he's already down in the party, mingling.
I head down, yawning. I can't help but notice that Maria has spotted me, and never takes her eyes off me as I rejoin the celebration.
"Where were you?" Jason asks, appearing behind me as I arrive on the landing.
I almost jump out of my skin.
"I was upstairs looking at some historical stuff. It's an interest of mine."
He shrugs. "This party sucks, and I'm tired."
"Why don't we go ask your dad if I can take you guys home early?" I offer.
I need to get out of here. I can't shake the feeling I'm being watched.
The boys run down the stairs, meeting their father as he emerges. I start down the grand stairs and spot Maria in the crowd, standing near my father with a flute of champagne in her hand, smiling. When she looks up and sees me, she quickly turns away, but first I catch a glimpse of an icy glare, barely hidden.
Chapter Eight
Aiden
"Have you ever flown before?"
Before she answers, Lilah yawns wide, and loud. I don't think she expected me knocking on her door at five in the morning. The boys were already up. Jason has a week before summer school starts. That means a week out at the country house. I think I can manage some time off, even with the demonstration in less than a month. What better time?
I’ll make any excuse for her. Gladly.
She shakes her head, bleary-eyed. The air has taken a sharp turn for the warm, and she's in jeans and a loose-fitting polo shirt that hints at her curves in just the right way. She yawns wide again and rolls in the seat, leaning it back. The denim hugs her legs, reminding me of the light marks I left on her thighs with my fingers.
"Don't sleep now," I tell her. "It doesn't take the edge off. It just makes the rest of the day worse."
She waves a dismissive hand at me and yawns loudly, trying to pillow her head into the headrest.
I prefer to drive out to the airfield. As in, operate the car myself. The electric model is smooth and silent—and fast and nimble—but I'd rather not test it with the sleepy Lilah in the front seat with me and the boys in the back. They've nodded off, leaning against each other, and a sharp turn or abrupt maneuver might whap their heads together.
Lilah is so gorgeous in the morning light, a perfect mix of ingénue and vixen. Though I suppose ingénue doesn't really apply to her anymore. I took care of that last night, and I feel my blood heating up when I think about her tightness around me, the way she gripped me with her legs, and the feel of her teeth on my skin. There's something wild in her, and I'm going to take my time waking that side of her. She dipped into it last night when she was craving my hand on her ass. I can't stop thinking about her perfectly muscled ass, skin buttery soft under my fingers.
If she had any idea what I have in mind for her… She'll be begging for it soon enough. She's fallen asleep, of course, just as I turn off the road onto the airfield.
North of the city there's a smaller airport, well away from Philly International, mainly for private pilots like me. I nudge Lilah even as she bats at the offending hand like an annoyed cat, until she sits up and blinks her bleary eyes.
"Whuh?" she says.
"We're at the airport. Come on."
There's no check-in through security here. I sent our bags ahead anyway. In truth we could just drive, but the boys love flying, and I can't resist the chance.
My plane is a small one, a four-seater turboprop Cessna. It was my first big indulgence, when I was still technically working for Roland. Delilah eyes it, wary.
"Is this thing safe?"
"Perfectly. I'm going to run all the checks right now. Climb in."
She has to duck and squirm to get into the front seat. She looks at the yoke—there's one on each side—warily. The boys scramble in behind us.
After I finish the exterior checks I climb into the seat and put on my headset, motioning for her to do the same.
"You've really never flown before?"
She shakes her head and stares through the windows. “We always took the train. Coming down here was the first time I ever traveled alone. Alone-ish. I had my father’s watchdog with me. Mrs. Heemeyer.”
“I can barely believe you’ve never flown.”
“But you can believe it.” She sighs.
"Want a drink?"
"I'm not thirsty."
"I mean a little nip to calm your nerves. I've got a small bottle of vodka stowed away for nervous passengers."
"No, thanks," she says, her voice growing more high strung with every word.
I touch her shoulder. "We can just drive, if you'd rather."
"Didn't you file a flight plan or something? Let's do this."
The engine starts, and I run through the final checks. Lilah tucks herself into her seat and stares straight down at the instruments.
"We'll be taking off in a minute."
She jumps when we start to move.
"We're still on the ground," I reassure her. "Not time
yet. We have to wait."
Lilah nods.
"I won't think anything less of you if—"
"Just shut up and fly," she snaps, folding on herself.
I rest my hand on her leg, cupping her knee. She relaxes under my grip.
“Trust me,” I murmur.
She gives another nod, flushing with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to…”
“I know. It’ll be fine.”
After a brief chat with the tower, it's time for takeoff. I take the runway and start to throttle up, and Lilah claws the side of her seat as if it wronged her. I can see her tensing and question whether I should just wave off and insist we drive instead, but now I'm committed.
The front gear comes up, and the plane wobbles as the wings catch the air and lift us up.
"This is all normal," I reassure her. “Everything is going fine. We will sway a little, yaw back and forth.”
“Yaw?”
“Pitch and yaw,” I demonstrate with my hand. “Flying terms.”
She nods vigorously, going a little green as her strategy of staring at the instrument panel fails her. The plane noses up, and there is only blue sky ahead. Lilah leans back now, unfocusing her eyes.
I'm busy with getting us airborne. Once we reach our altitude she relaxes, letting out a breath that she held so long she should have passed out. She slumps in the seat and leans over, taking her first look down, then jerks away.
"It's not as bad as I thought," she says. I can only hear her through the headset.
"It's not as bad as you expect. It's a mental thing. Once you get to a certain height, your brain can't process it as altitude, and it doesn't look real. It's almost peaceful, don't you think?"
She nods. "Yes. Almost."
"At least, until you have to bail out. Want to try skydiving?"
Her head snaps around so hard it almost throws her headset off. The look on her face flickers between surprise and rage.
"I didn't mean now," I throw in.
She glares at me, but there’s no heat in it. The corners of her lips twitch, and it takes every ounce of willpower I have not to grab her and plant a little kiss on both sides of her mouth.
"I'm not jumping out of a perfectly good airplane."
"Don't knock it till you've tried it,” I say.
"Don't mind if I do," she says. She glances at my hands as I control the yoke. "What's that like?"
"Freeing. Truth is, I prefer my biplane."
"Biplane? Like World War I?"
"Exactly. I own a small collection of replicas of fighter planes of the era. No machine guns and bombs, of course."
She swallows. "You're not getting me into a biplane."
"I'll bet by the time we get home you'll be begging for my biplane."
Alarmed, she glances over her shoulder.
"Private channel on the headset," I reassure her. "Boys can't hear us. Too loud."
She sits back in her seat anyway, heat flaring on her cheeks. "We should tell them something."
"Should we? We're an item now?"
She gives me a wry look. "I don't know. Maybe we are. I'm still angry with you."
"Oh, boo, you are not."
She rolls her eyes. "I’m conceptually angry. How long does this take?"
"Airspeed is around three hundred miles per hour, so about forty-five minutes. We're not flying far."
"What airport are we flying into?"
"We aren't. I have my own airfield on the estate. I'll have to talk to the tower out at Pittsburgh, though."
She says nothing, staring out through the windscreen.
"Want to try?" I offer.
"What."
"Put your hands on the yoke."
"What?"
"I'll work the rudder. You just hold it steady. Go on."
Lilah looks at me, the yoke in front of her, me again. She reaches out as if she's about to tap a venomous snake on the head and takes hold of the flight controls.
"Don't try to take over yet. Just feel how it moves under my control. Close your eyes. I'll tell you when to open them."
Her hands move with mine as I make subtle adjustments. We have a slight tailwind, but the air is calm and clear.
"Open them."
She glances over and sees my hands are in my lap and snaps her gaze forward, red creeping up her cheeks.
"I'm flying," she says.
"You sure are," I tell her.
I let her hold the yoke for about ten minutes or so before I take over and she relaxes back into her seat and blows out a slow breath. A giggle escapes her lips.
"There's so many things we can do in life if we have the courage to try. You're going to love the biplanes."
She glares at me again and narrows her shoulders, taking a petulant cross-armed pose worth of a Renaissance master's finest work. I have a sudden ludicrous urge to commission a painting of her.
Eventually her head lolls to the side, and she falls asleep. I'm the only one awake. Just me, the open sky, and the three most important people in the world.
The descent wakes her. Lilah jolts awake as she feels the plane tip back.
"Why are you pulling up if we're going down?" she asks, sharply.
"Touch down the rear landing gear first," I tell her, too deep in concentration for conversation. "Everything's going great. It'll be a few bumps as we land, but it's all normal, I promise. That bottle of vodka is under the dash if you need it."
She shakes her head and closes her eyes.
I could swear she doesn't breathe until she feels the front gear touch down. She cries out for the first, and only time, when a small wind shear from the pines, and the spotty grip of the tires as they take the weight of the plane, jerks us sideways. She relaxes when I slow us down and finally come to a stop.
My crew runs out to chock the wheels, and I settle back into the seat. "Successful landing."
"I hate you," she chirps.
I laugh and rub her arm. For someone who just said she hates me, she doesn't look it.
Lilah
This isn't what I was expecting. Go ahead, judge me, but when he said country estate I visualized a huge, sprawling mansion with wings and a portico and a courtyard and all the rest. This…is a house.
Not an especially large house. I'd almost call it cute. Tudor style, the house—or cabin?—is situated in a rolling valley between two hills. Mountains sweep off in the distance, giving the whole place a pastoral, inviting feel. Of course, it wouldn't be Aiden's land if there weren't windmills on the hills or solar panels arrayed on top of and beside the house. The boys run ahead on the dirt path from the airfield while Aiden walks beside me, bag slung over one shoulder.
"I didn't bring much to wear," I tell him, idly.
“I’ll have you in a bathing suit, or nothing. As it happens, I have nothing in my room.”
I laugh. “Very cute. Seriously, though, I need some changes of clothes.”
"I had your room stocked."
"My room?” I lower my voice. “You mean we're not sharing?"
"Not yet," he says. "I didn’t want to assume."
"What do you want to do?"
"I want to find you in my bed with only the sheets covering your modesty and a rose clenched between your teeth."
Laughter bursts out of my chest, but heat creeps into my cheeks, too. It's not a bad idea, all things considered. Everything has changed for me this morning. I've never felt so comfortable in the presence of another human being in my entire life, or so happy in my own skin. I should have done this sooner, I almost think, but I was waiting for someone.
No, not someone. Him.
It's so quiet here. The space is wide open, but it feels tight, intimate, just the two of us walking down a garden path with the boys running ahead, eager to get out of the blinding sunlight into the shade of the house. Aiden fishes out a key and lets them run loose inside, and ushers me in, a hand looped about my waist.
Something changes as I enter, like pushing through a barrier. I feel it s
weep around my shoulders, tingling on my neck. The inside of the house is no grander than the outside. It's cozy, and I could see myself enjoying a winter day curled up next to that fireplace with a blanket and a book. A soft smile curls on my lips.
I realize Aiden is watching me. "You like it?"
I nod.
"It's a little stuffy in here. Help me with the windows, will you?"
"I'm surprised they don't go up on their own."
"I need a break from that now and again," he says. "Sometimes you just want simplicity."
I spend the next ten minutes going around the house throwing up all the sashes. It serves to give me a self-guided tour. A warm breeze flows through every corner of the structure. I find myself more in love with it with every room. The country kitchen is wonderful, complete with a huge hearth and pots and pans hanging overhead.
Aiden finds me there. "Feeling at home?"
"Yes," I admit, glancing around. "Where are the boys?"
"Settling in to their rooms."
"So is this a vacation, or are you working?"
"Not working today, but I'll take care of a few things while we're here. The demonstration is coming up soon. No rest for the wicked."
His smile widens, and he steps forward, settling his arms around my waist. He plants a soft kiss on my lips, and the moment draws out into a warm eternity, my head resting on his chest. After the excitement of the plane ride I need a few moments to catch up.
His butt vibrates.
Sighing, Aiden pulls out his phone and checks the number.
"Yes, Maria?" he says, still resting one arm around my waist.
He draws away as he turns into the phone, his voice tight. "Fine. Put her through."
He takes a deep breath and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Hello, Gloria. Yes, I am. No, I'm not hiding them from you. No, no, two weeks as we agreed. I understand. Yes. Jason has his summer school. No, I didn't let him… I'm taking care of it. Yes, I have the date. I have to go, very busy."
He hangs up and shoves his phone back in place with an exasperated shake of his head.
Man of the House Page 11
