by Lily Cahill
She rewarded him with a moan that made him glad he'd paid extra for soundproofing from the cockpit. Damn, that was hot. He loved the sound of her. He loved being the one to make her sound like that.
He dove in and out of her with his finger, circling her clit with his thumb as he peppered her chest with kisses, teasing her nipples through the fabric of her dress. She tilted her hips against him. She arched her back to press her breasts even harder against his face.
His dick was rubbing against the zipper of his pants through his boxer briefs and he was thankful for the irritation of it. It was the only thing keeping him from losing it right now. From the sounds of it, she wasn't too far away herself.
Not yet, Princess, he thought. I'm not ready for you to come yet. He wanted to enjoy this. He wanted her to enjoy it, to remember their first time together. He wanted to tease her to the edge until she couldn't take it anymore. He wanted to give her the best orgasm she'd ever had in her life.
But if he was going to do that, the dress had to go. He slipped his free hand behind her back and raised her up to sitting as he pulled his finger out of her.
Then he stood up, tugging her with him.
"I want you naked for me, Princess," he said, moving to step behind her. "I need to see you."
She moaned.
He took off his shirt, his pants, everything.
Then slowly, so he could enjoy it, he pulled her zipper down, bending to kiss her smooth, soft skin at every newly exposed inch. He felt goosebumps rise on her flesh, and traced his tongue down her spine, making her shiver.
"Do you like that, Princess?" he asked.
"Yes," she panted. "Yes."
His mouth moved to her shoulders as he slipped one arm down, then two. But the dress didn't fall as he'd hoped. She was gripping it to her body, her arms clasped around her stomach.
He took one hand in his, slipping it out of the sleeve as he kissed down the length of her arm. The dress fell partly away, revealing a lacy black bra cut so low on her ample breasts that they barely covered her nipples.
"Jesus, Princess," he moaned, cupping one breast in his palm and kneading it softly. "You're so damn beautiful."
He slipped her other arm out of the dress and it finally fell to the floor.
Matching black lace panties.
Sam thought the rush of desire he felt might actually make him pass out.
His hand delved to cup her ass. The bare, full cheek peeked out sexily and he caressed it firmly as he gripped her hip to bring her closer. He loved how her ass filled his hand. He loved how soft she was against his cock. He rubbed himself against her plush bottom, unable to stop himself from enjoying her body.
She gasped, moaned, and leaned her head back against his chest, tickling him with her hair and giving him a perfect view of those gorgeous tits again.
He rocked against her harder, but the sensation was too much. If he kept on like this, he wouldn't last long enough to make it inside her. And he wanted that very, very much.
He stepped in front of her and sat on the couch again, then tugged her forward until her knees met his. He slipped her panties down. They fell to the floor, and he could see her pussy for the first time. The sight of her had his cock throbbing, begging to take her.
He spread his legs and gripped her soft, round ass to pull her closer. Then he bent down and slid his tongue between the plump lips of her pussy.
She bucked against his lips, so aroused he thought she might buckle. But he held on, licking her deeply. He licked and sucked, nuzzled and teased. He swirled his tongue around her clit, lapping her in smooth, firm circles. Her ass muscles tightened in his palms, and he pulled his mouth away gently. She was too close, and he wanted to claim her orgasm with his cock.
She panted, her eyes desperate and wanting as he met her gaze.
"Sit on my lap, baby," he said, nudging her back and parting her thighs with his knees. He wanted to see her sitting on his cock. He wanted to see her breasts bounce from his thrusts so much that they'd break free from that bra and bob against his face.
He was so hungry for her that he almost missed her hesitation. She was straddling him, breathless, but she wasn't moving. He tugged her hand, urging her on, his need at its breaking point.
"Wait. I need to ..." her voice trailed off and he felt his gut twist. "I need to tell you something."
What if he'd pushed her too hard, too fast? What if this wasn't what she wanted? He'd been so focused on having her, so clouded with his need that maybe he'd missed something.
"I've never ... I've never done this before," she said.
Jesus fuck. She was a virgin? He felt his cock surge at the idea of being the only one to claim his mate. Of being the only man to ever be inside of her from now until forever.
But he felt the guilt rise too. He had pushed her. He hadn't even noticed he was moving too fast. He had to pump the brakes. She was his, and he would protect her, even from himself.
Slowly, painfully, he spoke, "We're not doing this."
"No," she protested. "I want to. I'm a grown woman and I want you to be the one. I want to give myself to you."
Fuck, he wanted her so badly.
"I only said something because I wanted you to know," she said. "I wanted you to share this moment with me, to know I chose you."
Her words made warmth spread across his chest.
"You deserve better than this, than tonight," he said. "You deserve--"
She leaned over and pressed her mouth against his. "I deserve to get what I want," she said when she finally pulled her mouth away. "And I want you. Right now. Just like you were going to do before. Please, baby. You've got me so hot."
His bear rose up inside him, demanding to have her, demanding to claim her and do exactly as she asked.
"Please take me," she panted. "I need you to."
If he had any resistance left, it was gone.
More gently now, he pulled her down until she was sitting on his knees. He pressed kisses across the tops of her breasts as he felt the warmth of her hover near his cock. His sensitive head brushed against her entrance and he let it linger there for one last moment.
"Are you sure?" he asked. "We don't have to."
"Yes," she panted. "Please, baby."
He pressed himself between her slick folds and felt her clench around him with a whimper. She was so tight, so wet, and fit so perfectly over his cock. He let himself settle into her deep and slow, every inch unfolding her more fully, every inch closing her more tightly around him.
"Fuck. Oh, fuck," she whimpered. "You're so big."
"Am I hurting you?" he asked.
"God no," she said, tilting her head back and pressing her breasts into his face. "You feel so fucking good."
He groaned at her words, then gripped her luscious ass tighter and stood, lifting her with him. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he sank even deeper into her. Then she began to grind against him, seeking her pleasure. It made him wild.
"Lift your hands to the ceiling," he said.
She raised her hands. With his height and the low clearance of the plane, she was easily able to reach it. As her palms met the roof, her nipples peeked out over the cups of her bra and Sam nearly lost it. They were pink and tiny but pebble-hard. He drew one into his mouth and moaned against her flesh as he began to slowly pump into her.
She moaned too, meeting his thrusts with her own, hungry for satisfaction. He mouthed first one breast, then another. He sucked in more than her nipple, loving the feel of her full flesh in his mouth. He lapped at her as he plunged over and over and over. And even though he could feel her rising--hear her breath speeding up and feel her growing tighter and tighter around him--he kept his rhythm slow and steady.
The sensation was nearly unbearable. He knew there were only moments, seconds, left for them both. It was time to make her come, and as sexy as his current view was, he wanted to look into her eyes when he did it.
He shifted her back onto the couch, laying
her beneath him and pressing his forehead close to hers as he tangled his fist into her hair. She wrapped her arms around his neck, drawing him to her with the same intensity. Her eyes were clenched tight, her brows knit close, her mouth open and panting in pleasure. She was close; he could feel it. And so was he.
"Open your eyes, baby," he said. "I want to watch you come for me."
Her lashes fluttered open to a startling pale blue. Her eyes were clear arctic pools, pure and endless and brilliant.
His gaze locked on hers just as he felt her contract around his cock.
She cried out as her orgasm rippled around him, ripping away the last bit of his willpower. Only then did he let himself let go. Only then did he let himself dive into those eyes, swim to her soul as his body crashed and broke against hers.
#
When the moment had passed and their intense pleasure had subsided, Sam curled himself around her, reveling in the feel of her bare skin against his. He wrapped his arms around her and cupped her breast in his hands. She moaned and nuzzled into him deeper, and he thought he heard her breath slow and slip into sleep.
But he was nowhere near being able to rest. His thoughts ran wild. She had been so honest with him, so vulnerable. Didn't she deserve the same in return? If they were going to be together--and he could imagine no version of his life without her in it--then she had to know the truth about him.
His stomach churned at the thought. He imagined a million different reactions when he told her, but none of them were good. He imagined her face painted with horror or twisted in disgust. He could think of no easy way to break the news to her, no way to soften the fact that he was abnormal, peculiar. The truth was that sharing his life with her also meant sharing his pain. Life as a shifter was complicated, difficult, and even dangerous. He hated the idea of burdening her with that.
But what other choice did he have? He owed her the truth. He couldn't tempt her into a life with him under false pretenses. He would do it tomorrow, he promised himself. He would let them have this night together, just in case it was their last. But tomorrow he would tell her the truth and let her choose.
As if blessing his decision, a tone rang through the cabin, waking her.
"We're approaching the airfield, folks," Kent's voice sounded over the speakers. "We should be there in about five minutes. Please prepare yourselves for landing."
In his arms, she laughed. The sound was hearty and full and made his heart clench. He couldn't bear the idea of not hearing that laugh again.
"What's so funny?" he asked.
"I guess," she said, laughing, wiggling around to face him, pressing those gorgeous tits against his chest. "I guess I just joined the Mile High Club," she said.
He realized that it was true for him too, and laughed with her. "You and me both."
"Really?" she said in shock.
"Scout's honor," he said.
She smirked, trailed a hand down his chest. "You're no Boy Scout, Mr. Ryan. Not with what you just did to me," she said. "But I like that we joined the club together. I like owning that piece of you."
His heart swelled and he covered her mouth with his. She owned more than just this small, first experience. She owned so much more.
Chapter Ten
Francesca
Frankie held Sam's hand as he walked her to her door. She couldn't believe the night she'd just had, and didn't want it to end. Her body still felt electric with his touch. He had taken her most precious gift, and she had been glad to give it to him.
She couldn't imagine having shared that moment with anyone else on earth. The way he'd looked into her eyes as he'd moved inside of her--as he'd claimed her with his body, and she'd claimed him right back--had been intense and fulfilling in a way she'd never imagined it could be.
She'd heard so many stories of awkward first times, but hers had felt magical. And she knew it was because she'd shared it with him.
And then there were those three little words he'd said when she'd asked him to do it. They echoed in her mind on an endless loop.
Yes, my love.
My love.
My love.
My love.
Had he really meant that? It felt like he had. He hadn't taken it back or made excuses. It felt like he didn't regret it at all. Was it crazy if she was feeling the same way?
He brushed her hair away from her face and settled his eyes on her. She felt the protectiveness there, the ownership. But it wasn't stifling, it was freeing. It made her relax, let go. It made her let someone else carry the burden of responsibility for once.
"I don't want to let you go home," he said.
"I know. I feel the same," she smiled softly.
"Would it be rude if I asked to spend the night with you?" he asked, drawing her in by her waist. "I want you in my arms all night. We could go back to my hotel?"
"My brothers would hunt you down if I didn't come home."
"Here, then?"
She thought of what it would be like to walk down to breakfast with him the next morning. Her brothers would tease them both endlessly.
But she found she didn't care. In fact, she longed for it. She longed to introduce him into her home, to declare in front of her family that he was a part of her now--a part of them all. She wanted him to be so badly. So why wait?
"Okay," she said.
"Really?" he asked, wrapping his arms around her and lifting her off the ground. "You'll let me stay?"
"Yes," she said, imagining the warmth of him in her bed. "I'd love it."
They crept through the quiet house and up to her room. When she settled her face against his bare, rugged chest, she knew her sleep that night would be the deepest she'd ever experienced.
#
Frankie woke to the feel of Sam's arms lifting her out of bed fast--sheet and all. Something was wrong, but she was too groggy--too happy--to figure it out at first.
"What're you doing?" she asked, the room swirling around her.
"Getting you out of here," he growled.
Then she heard it. There was a siren, and someone shouting in the hall.
"Fire! Fire! Everybody out!"
Oh, shit.
"Don't." she protested. "It's not--"
But they were already thundering out into the hall, her door slamming behind them. She covered her eyes with her hand. She couldn't even look.
That's when the laughter started.
It rumbled up from the bottom of the stairs--from the living room--loud and raucous and hysterical. Her three brothers were gathered there, doubled over in side-splitting laughter. Jamie was cranking one of those wind-up sirens. Eddie was pointing at her and laughing. Mikey was fending off Becky's tiny little fists.
"I told them not to do it, I swear," Becky said as Jamie gave up on the crank.
Frankie chanced an apologetic look at Sam, worry creasing her brow. But instead of the glare she expected, he was grinning. He was also, she realized, completely naked save for the sheet dangling off her body and barely covering him. Which was probably adding to the gales of glee below.
"Sorry," she whispered, tugging the sheet up around her neck. Then she said her next words loud enough for everyone to hear. "They think they're a bunch of goddamn comedians."
"What's the matter, Frankie?" Eddie bellowed. "The fire burn all your clothes?"
"Don't your legs work anymore?" Jamie howled.
She tried to wiggle out of Sam's grip, but he wouldn't let her go.
"If I put you down," he said between gritted teeth, "they're gonna get a show."
Oh. Oh.
"You forgot the first law of fire safety, bro," Mikey laughed. "Every man for himself."
Below her, Jamie screamed "Incoming!" then hurled himself into Mikey's arms.
Mikey started to run around the living room with him.
"You're my hero!" Jamie squealed in a high-pitched voice, kicking his legs and pointing his toes like a dainty lass instead of the water buffalo he actually was. "Save me! Save me!"
"Me big hero," Mikey grunted like an ape as he ran. "Me save Jane."
Again, Frankie covered her face with her hands. "Maybe let's go back to the bedroom now?" she suggested.
Sam smirked, then looked down at the barely-breathing crowd. "You brought this on yourselves," he said. Then he turned around to bring Frankie back to her room, revealing his bare-naked ass to the hecklers below.
Howls erupted.
If she wasn't mistaken, she thought she could feel him flexing it for them, one cheek and then the other.
"Aw, come on, man," Eddie protested.
"My eyes!" Jamie said. "I'll never recover!"
But she could hear the undercurrent of their protests. She could hear the jovial tone in their voices and she knew what it meant. He'd passed.
#
Later that morning, after Becky had made them apology pancakes and her brothers had slapped Sam on the back one too many times, Frankie saw Sam to the door.
"Can I see you again tonight?" he asked. "There's something important I need to talk to you about." His voice sounded serious.
Frankie's brow furrowed and she felt a tightening in her chest. "What is it?"
"Not now," Sam said, kissing her on the forehead. "Later, okay?"
The kiss eased some of her fears, but she still felt a lingering sense of worry. What could be so important that he had to make such a big deal out of it? Why would he feel the need to warn her? It made her uneasy.
"It's something bad, isn't it?" Frankie pushed.
"I ..." Sam said. "I hope not."
"Okay?" She didn't like how mysterious he was being. She may be the type of person to like surprises, but she hated secrets. Nothing good had ever come from keeping secrets.
"I didn't mean to worry you. I'm sorry," he said.
But his apology only made her feel worse. The tone of his voice sounded somber. What was this about?
"Look, I shouldn't have brought it up when I didn't have time to talk about it. I promise you'll know everything there is to know about me by tonight. But I have to go. I promised to meet a friend--he's actually part of what I need to talk to you about. And I have some business to attend to. But I'll be free by five at the latest. Will you be here?"
