Chapter 34 #2
He dragged a hand over his jaw, studying me like a predator watching prey walk willingly into his den.
I slipped into the galley where the flight attendant sat reviewing something on a tablet. She sprang up when she saw me.
“Can I get you something?”
“Lucian would like a whiskey,” I said lightly, lowering my voice. “And perhaps a little privacy.”
“Okay, sure. I’ll bring it to him right away,” she said, turning toward the stowed bottles.
“No, you see. He wants me to bring it to him…um, you know, play the role—”
I bounced my brows, grinning.
She laughed, catching on immediately. “Oh, I can help with that.”
She poured the drink, then glanced at me. “Would you like to borrow my spare uniform? It’s clean and about your size.”
I didn’t hesitate. “I love that idea.”
Minutes later, I stepped into the fitted navy skirt and crisp white blouse, heels snug against my feet, scarf tied neatly at my throat. I took the glass, thanked her, and closed the cabin door firmly behind me, sliding the lock into place.
Lucian looked up.
The smile that spread across his face stole the air from my lungs.
He didn’t say a word at first, which made it worse.
I approached slowly, placed a napkin on the table before him, and set the whiskey down with care.
“Sir,” I asked, tilting my head slightly, “is there anything else you require?”
His gaze traveled from my heels to my throat and back again.
He clicked his tongue once.
“Miss,” he said coolly, “that uniform doesn’t meet company standards. Remove the blouse.”
My fingers moved to the buttons without hesitation. I unfastened them one by one, letting the fabric slip from my shoulders.
He took a slow sip of whiskey.
“That bra is not regulation either,” he continued. “Take it off.”
“Yes, sir.”
I reached behind my back, unclasped it, and let it fall to the floor.
“Come closer,” he said. “On your knees.”
I stepped forward and sank between his legs.
The heat in his eyes was unmistakable.
Submission wasn’t necessarily a weakness when it was a choice I made.
When it was a choice I got to make.
The steady vibration of the plane beneath us and the way he watched me left my panties soaked.
After a long pause, he hooked a finger beneath my chin and lifted my face.
His hand moved to the scarf around my throat.
He twisted the loose ends around his fingers.
“I like this,” he murmured.
His finger hooked into the loop, and the fabric tightened.
Air thinned within my lungs.
My pulse surged, but I didn’t panic.
I trusted him.
My lips pressed together as I held his gaze, waiting to see how far he would take it.
Just as instinct began to stir, he released the pressure.
Air rushed back into my lungs as heat flooded my core.
His palm slid to my cheek.
“Your trust in me is growing, Scar,” he said, his thumb brushing my lower lip free from between my teeth. “I like that.”
“Sir,” I said, letting my gaze drop deliberately to the thick bulge straining against his fly, “I believe there’s something wrong with your seatbelt.”
He gave a single, slow nod.
I unclasped it and set it aside, then moved to the black leather belt at his waist. My fingers worked it loose before I popped the button on his pants and dragged his zipper down.
Of course.
He’d gone commando.
I hooked my fingers into his waistband and pulled hard. He lifted his hips just enough for me to drag the trousers down to his ankles. I stripped off his shoes and freed his ankles completely.
When I settled back onto my knees, his legs were spread wide, and his cock stood at full attention.
My mouth watered.
I wanted to wrap my hands around him immediately, but I remembered my role. I sat back on my heels, chin lowered, hands clasped behind my back.
He growled low in his throat.
Leaning forward, his mouth brushed my ear. “Miss,” he said evenly, “suck my dick.”
It wasn’t a request.
He leaned back, picked up his drink, and took a heavy swallow. The movement of his throat as the whiskey slid down was obscenely hot.
That was all the permission I needed.
I closed both hands around his cock and stroked him from base to tip, feeling every vein, every pulse beneath my fingers. A bead of pre-cum formed at the head and slid down. I licked my lips.
He watched me with open satisfaction, making my stomach clench.
It was the first time that I could give him pleasure meant just for him to enjoy.
Using the flat of my tongue, I dragged it up his shaft, my hands tightening as I went. His cock jerked under my touch. I flicked the tip of my tongue back and forth over the sensitive ridge as my hands slid up and down him. Then I circled the tip with my tongue before taking the head into my mouth.
My hands moved in rhythm as I sucked him deeper, twisting slightly to increase the friction. His fingers slid into my hair, twisting tightly into my curls.
I took him as far as I could in this position when I had a flash of inspiration.
I released him from my mouth and rose to my feet.
Reaching to the side of the seat, I pressed the controls. The back reclined smoothly, the footrest lifting.
He chuckled. “Clever girl.”
I slipped out of the skirt and stepped free of my panties. Climbing backward onto the seat, I positioned myself with my knees braced on either side of his hips, in an amazingly comfortable sixty-nine position. This chair made the angle perfect.
“Mmm, fuck. That’s it, lass,” he murmured, hands sliding up my thighs. “I like this view.”
Bracing one hand against the seat, I guided his cock back into my mouth. I opened my throat and took him deeper this time, swallowing him down until my nose brushed his skin. His fingers dug into my flesh.
I moved in a steady rhythm, drawing him in to the hilt before easing back just enough to let the ridge catch against the back of my throat.
His thumb traced the curve of my cleft from my spine down to my slit and then dipped inside. After swirling it in my wetness, he began stroking my clit in time to the rhythm of the strokes of my throat across the ridge of his head.
“Fuck,” he groaned.
His hips began to thrust upward, demanding a faster pace. I adjusted, matching him, letting him use my mouth while maintaining control of the angle.
Just as his body tensed toward release, he moved.
In one fluid motion, he sat upright, pulled me back with one arm, and twisted me around so I was straddling his hips.
A soft laugh escaped me as I wiped my chin with the back of my hand. I reached for the seat controls and raised the back upright again.
I pulled his mouth to mine and kissed him hard.
His hands slid over my ass, fingers digging into my flesh as he lifted me and seated me on his cock in one decisive motion. I was drenched, my body opening for him without resistance, and I sank down so deeply that his balls brushed against my skin.
His hands moved up my back, strong and steady.
He broke the kiss and dragged me closer, taking one tight nipple into his mouth. I arched into him, grinding my clit against the hard line of his body, desperate for friction.
One hand kneaded my breast, squeezing and tugging while the other held me firmly against him.
I needed more friction. I couldn’t stay still.
My hips began to move on their own, grinding against him, chasing that pressure. A sound slipped from me, half-plea, half-demand.
He released my nipple and leaned back slightly, gripping my hips. His thumb found my clit.
He stroked once.
Then again.
I rose and fell over his cock, riding him as he set the rhythm with his hand at my hip. My palms braced against the armrests for leverage as I drove myself down harder. Faster.
My walls clenched around him.
The world narrowed to the heat between us.
Just as my vision fractured into light, he groaned and slammed me down onto him, his release flooding me as he emptied himself deep inside. His thumb kept moving, dragging every last wave from my body while he rocked upward into me.
Slowly, the intensity ebbed.
I collapsed against his chest, breath ragged.
He wrapped his arms around me and held me tight. His heart pounded against mine in a steady rhythm.
His fingers twisted gently in my hair, pulling me back until our faces hovered inches apart.
“Eyes on me, Scarlett,” he ordered.
I met his gaze.
“I love you, my little bird. With everything in me. I love every part of you—your red hair, your sharp tongue, the strength you hide behind that fire. There will never be another woman for me. I’ll die with your name on my lips.”
My chest tightened.
Words failed me, so I kissed him instead. When I found my voice, it was barely a whisper.
“I love you, Lucian. I love you so much.”
I kissed him again and again, repeating it until the words dissolved into tears and slid down my cheeks without shame. Loving him hurt in the best way.
He brushed the tears away with his thumbs, then pulled me against his chest, cradling me. His hand rested at the nape of my neck as he rocked me. His fingers traced along the edge of the scarf still knotted around my throat.
He huffed a low laugh. “Keep this. I like it on you. It gives me ideas.”
I smiled against his skin. “Okay. I will.”
He held me there for a long time, the plane humming beneath us, the world narrowed to the two of us breathing in sync.
Then he stood, lifting me effortlessly and moving me to the seat beside his. He laid me down, covered me with a blanket, and reclined the seat.
Exhaustion claimed me quickly.
The last thing I remember was him crouching beside me and pressing a kiss to my forehead.