Chapter 12
Nate rubbed his hand down my side, over my flat stomach and down between my thighs. I sighed happily; that’s where I wanted—no, needed him to touch me. His fingers dipped further down, brushing over my clit. I sucked in a breath, curling into his hand.
Yes.
He stroked me slowly, and I groaned, trying to move against him faster. I needed more. So much more. I needed him inside me.
“More,” I moaned, gripping his wrist as he finger-fucked me in the forest. I’d never been to this forest, but man, Nate looked so wild here. He looked powerful, and as he moved my body, spreading my thighs wider so he could go deeper, I knew that I wouldn’t ever be the same after he fucked me. It didn’t matter that there was a stick jabbing me in the ribs, or that I couldn’t quite press my breasts to his chest for some reason, just as long as he kept touching me.
I ached so much. I was going to die if he didn’t get inside me soon.
“Wren,” he breathed softly.
“Nate,” I moaned back. “Please.”
I moved my body faster, getting so close. I needed it harder, faster.
“Wren, wake up.”
Oh, I was more than awake. My body had never felt so alive. I felt like every square inch of my skin was electric. I could feel the pleasure shooting through my veins, making my heart beat fast.
“Wake up, mo stóirín. You’re… dreaming.”
I frowned. No, that wasn’t right. I looked up at Nate, as his hands ran over my hips and flat stomach.
That wasn’t right either. My stomach wasn’t flat anymore. The babies were already stretching it to the max. I wanted to ignore it. My body was on fire, and the need to come was almost painful.
But it was too late. I was drifting back to wakefulness, and horror quickly replaced lust as I became aware of my position. At some point, Nate had reclined his seat flat too, essentially turning our two seats into one big bed. I was pressed tight against his denim-clad thigh, one leg flung over his, and I was rubbing my… Oh god.
His hand was tight on my hip, and I could feel the hard press of his dick against the rounded curve of my stomach.
I’d been humping his thigh, like some horny toy poodle.
Fuck my life.
I was so fucking wet, and I could feel my silk pajamas were soaked. No matter how horrified I was, I was still so fucking aroused. All it would take was a few more strokes and I could have some relief.
Instead, I was frozen. I’d just violated Nate.
“Wren…” he choked out. “Are you okay?”
“Yep. Yeah. Totally fine,” I whispered.
The whole plane was dark, but I could feel the soft puffs of his breath on my face. “Do you need something?” he murmured back, and his thigh moved. The friction sent an electric, but taboo thrill through my body.
I bit back the moan that was bubbling up my throat. I needed something, all right. I needed him. But I couldn’t tell him that. I didn’t want to make things weird with the last person who gave a shit if I lived or died.
He moved a little closer. “Tell me what you want, mo stóirín. I will give you whatever it is you need.”
Fuck.Was he suggesting what I thought he was suggesting? Or was my horny-ass brain still caught up in the dirty dream?
I considered asking him for a drink of water, sending him away until I could get myself under control, but in this blanket of darkness, thousands of feet in the air, I felt brave. Or stupid. Definitely one of the two.
“I… I need to come.”
The groan that rumbled from his chest was a primal sound that somehow made my clit throb. “Tell me you want me to help you, Wren. Tell me you want me to touch you until your tight little cunt squeezes around my fingers.”
Oh my god.If he kept talking like that, he wouldn’t need to touch me—I would just come on the spot.
“Please, Nate,” I breathed so softly, it was a wonder he could hear me at all.
“Please what, sweet one?”
“Please touch me. I need you inside me.” My voice was a breathless whine.
That was all he needed. His hand dove beneath the blankets that covered us, his fingers brushing over my stomach, the skin stretched and sensitive. Then he slid further down, under the waistband of my fancy airline PJ pants and underwear, until he found my slippery, wet folds.
He buried his face in my hair and hissed out a breath. “So wet,” he growled. “For me?”
“For you.” I was trying to be as silent as possible. I didn’t want to give the other people in our cabin a free show, but when his index finger flicked over my clit, I bit down on his shoulder to mute the sound of my moan.
Unfortunately, my teeth in his shoulder made Nate groan, his rock-hard cock nudging against my stomach. His fingers slipped between my folds, tracing through the dampness and making me curl closer to him.
His finger pressed just inside me, and I tried to move closer, to feel him inside me, but Nate had other ideas. “You’re going to come for me, mo stóirín. But not until I tell you to come, and you’re going to be quiet. If you make a sound, I’m going to stop.”
I shuddered, my hands gripping his shirt. If he didn’t hurry up, I was going to take those words as permission, because I was way too riled for dirty talk.
Then he thrust his finger inside, curling it upwards, and I gasped soundlessly. He stroked me gently, but managed to hit all the places that made my body light up like the Rockefeller Christmas tree. He added another finger, stretching me, and he didn’t need to pound into me like a battering ram to find my pleasure. It was like he knew me inside and out. Like he’d studied how to stroke a woman to make her come, and now he was an expert.
The idea of him practicing this technique on other women made me uncomfortable, but you know what? When he hit that G-spot like it was home base, I didn’t care. Let the orgasm that was building inside of me like a tsunami be tribute to those lucky fuckers who’d come before me.
I was writhing around, my legs unable to stay still as bolts of pleasure moved down my legs. Nate stilled. “Quiet, Wren.” He stopped moving, and I almost whined in protest. “Are you ready to come?”
Nodding furiously, I kept my lips welded shut so I didn’t give him any reason to stop the pleasure he was pulling from my body. His palm was massaging my clit, his fingers doing something inside me that I didn’t even know was possible, and it was all too much. Burying my face in his chest, I moaned my release, and Nate’s hand came up to tangle in my hair, keeping me there as my pussy clamped around his fingers, trying to suck him inside me like a black hole.
I stayed there, my chest heaving as I tried to get air, for way too long. Nate took his fingers from me, and his other hand relaxed on the back of my head.
I needed to move. Needed to get the fuck off my friend. Hopefully, we were all having a severe case of collective delusions, and when the lights turned back on, this would all be a dream. A panty-melting, amazing dream.
But first, I needed to move. “I, uh, need to pee.” I muttered the words as I was already dragging myself out of my seat faster than should be physically possible in such a confined space. With a little forethought that I’d apparently lacked ten minutes ago, I grabbed my clothes, shuffling to the bathroom and locking myself in.
Maybe if I sat on the toilet and flushed, it would suck me out into the atmosphere and I’d never have to show my face again. What had I been thinking?
I sat in the tiny bathroom cubicle for far longer than was polite. I ignored the knocks, muttering, “I’m in here,” whenever someone got brave enough to fiddle with the lock. I needed to get myself under control. I needed to talk to my traitorous vagina and tell her that she’d already gotten us in trouble—we didn’t need to go ruining the only good thing we had going on right now.
By the time I emerged, the gentle lights had come back on, and the attendants were walking down with trays of breakfast foods. The bedding had disappeared from our seats, and both of them were upright. Nate was stabbing at the small screen in front of him, like he was trying to find something that was to his liking and failing miserably.
I swallowed down the embarrassment over the fact that I’d just come all over his hand, and decided to ignore it. I’d write it off as a great sex dream and pretend it never happened. That was the responsible thing to do, right?
I sat down and forced a smile. “Are they serving breakfast already? Wow, the other half flies in style, you know what I mean?” My words were forced and upbeat, but I’d committed now. “I hope there’s something other than eggs. Eggs make me want to gag.” Even the smell of eggs was getting to me now. They didn’t even have to be on my plate. But I wasn’t diva enough to police other people’s meals just yet. I just breathed in and out through my mouth and tried not to think of the gelatinous yellow goop.
Dammit, I was thinking about it now. Saliva pooled behind my back teeth, and I shook my head firmly. Talking to Nate was better than puking in his lap. He was looking over at me with those stormy blue eyes, filled with questions I definitely didn’t want to answer.
As the attendant laid out my breakfast in front of me, I filled the dead space in the conversation with inane chatter. About the hardships of collecting and then re-checking our luggage. Our connecting flight from Athens to Heraklion. Getting the hire car. The fact that Nate could hide his giant ax from the eyes of humans—like poof, just gone.
The attendant tried to lay out his breakfast, and he put a hand out to stop her. “Can I have a breakfast like hers? No egg.”
“Of course, sir. I’ll be right back.”
I tried not to let the warm feeling in my chest spread. If I could keep it contained, maybe I wouldn’t break my own heart.
Maybe.