Chapter 21
Twenty-One
Giancarlo
I choked on air. “W-what? You’re going to—”
“Eat your ass?” Rowen called over his shoulder, loud enough for the imaginary surveillance and anyone in the cockpit to hear. “Sure am! And I hope you prepped for the possibility. Otherwise, you’re gonna clean yourself out in front of me as the opening act.”
All the blood in my body abruptly raced to my dick at the thought. “I… prepped…”
But now I wish I hadn’t.
He stopped and spun so abruptly, I nearly ran into him. “Oh, my god. You’re disappointed, aren’t you? Fuck, you are such a fucking stealth slut and I am here for it. Let’s go!”
My head was still spinning over the revelation about his childhood, but now near-suffocating lust had clouded over any thoughts that didn’t have to do with Rowen’s tongue.
His tongue and where it’s about to end up.
The man in charge led me through the private theater like a dog on a leash, but abruptly halted once again when we reached the bedroom.
“There’s only one bed,” he said flatly, dropping my tie.
Nononono…
“That’s why I wanted to embark so early in the day—so there would be no pressure to sleep!” I blurted out, knowing I sounded exactly as desperate as I was. “And the hotel we’ll be staying at in Rome has adjoining suites with separate bedrooms.”
Even though I want you in my bed.
Permanently.
Rowen closed his eyes and blew out a criminally slow breath before opening them again. Then he grinned wide, displaying the gap between his front teeth I was already dangerously obsessed with.
“Baby, I am gonna eat your ass so good you’ll forget your net worth,” he purred.
Yes, please.
He grabbed my tie again and pulled me into the en suite before shoving me against the sink.
“Wait… Why are we in the lavatory?” I gasped as he began unbuckling my belt. “Wouldn’t the bed be a better—”
“One, I’ve never had the chance to join the Mile High Club before,” Rowen interrupted, intently focused on his work.
“And those wings are traditionally earned in the lavatory.” Pausing, he ripped down my pants and briefs before spinning me around to face the mirror.
“Two, this way you get to keep your eyes on your own reflection. I want you to watch yourself fall apart.”
Fuck.
I feared I was destined to fall apart immediately, especially as he pressed himself against me from behind with his hard cock nestled between my ass cheeks and only his clothing separating us.
“Look how pretty you are,” he murmured in my ear, gripping under my chin and forcing me to confront my reflection. “So desperate for a tongue in your ass.”
“Yes,” I confirmed, because his observation was completely accurate. “Your tongue.”
The clarifier seemed important, and Rowen clearly agreed as a smug expression appeared on his face. “That’s right. Mine.”
Yours.
“Only yours,” I barely whispered, daring to hope he understood what I was telling him.
Please don’t run.
He cocked his head and silently observed me in the mirror for a moment, making me sweat by giving nothing away. “Have you ever done this before?”
“Never,” I replied as he released my chin, carefully gauging his reaction. “I never felt… comfortable asking for anything like this with the club.”
Anything where I wasn’t the one in control.
Another flash of fear passed over Rowen’s face, which he immediately tried to hide beneath a wide grin. “You know… for someone lucky enough to be born a Luxford, you sure seem to struggle with asking for what you want.”
My jaw ticked, even as my erection showed no signs of flagging from his biting tone. “I didn’t ask for any of this. I…” I trailed off, wishing I could tell him more, but knowing I shouldn’t.
Not unless I want the entire plan to implode.
“Okay, well…” Rowen’s smirk only grew. “Now it’s time to ask.”
It took my overwhelmed brain a moment to realize what he meant, and my cheeks heated, even as a burst of pre-cum dribbled down my shaft.
I can do this.
He needs the control.
And I want to give it to him.
“Please, Mr. Quincy,” I obediently recited, holding his gaze in the mirror. “Please, eat my ass until I forget my net worth.”
Rowen barked a laugh, his green eyes glittering with humor. “Good boy. Now, do you remember your safeword?”
“Uhh, it’s…” I scrambled to remember one of his—many—unhinged comments before grimacing. “Dollar Store?”
His gaze softened and my heart thudded in my chest. “Perfect. I expect you to use that if you don’t like what’s happening and want me to stop.”
Before I could reply, he backed away and dropped to his knees behind me. “Why can’t I simply tell you to stop?” I asked over my shoulder, stuck on the need for a safeword at all.
Rowen glanced up as he helped me step out of my discarded pants and briefs. “You can, but I might think you’re just playing and not really listen. A safeword means you’re serious. Now bend over and spread your legs so I can apologize.”
Apologize?!
“What are you apologizing for?” I muttered, suddenly acutely aware of how ridiculous I probably looked, still wearing my shirt, tie, socks, and shoes, with nothing else below the waist.
“It’s so much filthier this way, hmm?”
Rowen’s confident voice in my head soothed away the anxiety even as he simultaneously huffed in annoyance behind me. “For the reason we’re on this plane in the first place. Don’t make me say it out loud, Luxford.”
I frowned, unsure if he was refusing to say more due to continued concerns about surveillance or because verbally apologizing was difficult for him.
It didn’t matter either way, because I wasn’t upset in the least to be on this plane with him.
As unpleasant as it had been, learning my art had taken a surprise trip overseas—followed by discovering Poppy #5 had joined the list of missing pieces—I was secretly pleased with the opportunity it presented to bring the object of my obsession to one of my favorite places on earth.
Even if he’s behaving as if I’ve kidnapped him—
“Fuck!” I gasped, pushing up from the vanity countertop as Rowen wrenched my cheeks apart with both hands and licked a hot, wet stripe over my hole, making me clench.
“God, I love making you swear,” he murmured, pulling back. “And I love knowing you wax everything back here, despite never bottoming. How very slutty of you, Giancarlo…”
I didn’t reply at first, too busy doing everything in my power not to come as he returned to his task, teasing my rim with just the tip of his tongue while gripping my ass to the point of pain.
Clumsily loosening my tie, I wrestled it over my head and tossed it aside before lowering myself back down to my elbows with a groan.
“My… mother left me an obscene amount of money with incredibly specific restrictions,” I explained, even though he technically hadn’t asked. “One of the—fuck—approved categories is ‘personal upkeep,’ so I’ve decided to interpret that as I see fit.”
“Ooh, we love malicious compliance in this house,” he chuckled, his breath cooling everywhere that was wet. “And for the record, I’m not complaining. You have the prettiest, most expensive hole I’ve ever seen.”
I’m not going to make it.
“Please…” I begged, dropping my cheek down to the cool surface beneath me, distinctly aware solid ground was miles below. “Please, Rowen—”
A sharp sting on my left cheek had me jerking forward, causing my throbbing dick to rub against the cabinet, smearing pre-cum.
Did he just…?!
“Don’t forget! It’s Mr. Quincy in the bedroom.” Rowen paused to spit directly onto my hole. “And when the Mile High Club is in session.”
He speared me with his tongue, making me shout, then dragged a whimper out of my soul when he released part of his grip on my cheek to reach around and begin stroking my dick.
The sensations from all sides were deliciously overwhelming.
He nipped and sucked on my rim in a way that had me longing for his skillful mouth on mine, while the relentless pulls on my shaft—with only spit and pre-cum as lube—matched the rhythm of his tongue thrusting into my hole.
All this while I kept my gaze on my own reflection, taking in my flushed cheeks, tousled hair, sweat-sheened skin, and glazed expression—the evidence of my unraveling.
Just like he’d told me to.
“Ro—Mr. Quincy… Please… Please, I need you…” I babbled, uncaring that I was drooling all over the lavatory countertop with the doors wide open all the way to the crew area at the front of the plane. “I need to come… Please.”
Rowen groaned against me, blessedly increasing his efforts until my entire body tensed and I was sobbing into my arms, spilling all over his hand and onto the lavatory floor.
“Mmm… Look at the mess you made,” he crooned, releasing me and rising to his feet. “Good job, baby.”
So good…
I’d barely caught my breath when I heard the obscenely distinct sound of skin on skin. My dick attempted to rally as I glanced over my shoulder to find Rowen stroking himself, using my cum as lubricant with his gaze fixed on my ass.
“Will you come inside me again?” I whispered, daring to ask for what I wanted—needed—even though I didn’t have my plug handy.
His gaze snapped to mine, glassy with his impending orgasm. “Not this time,” he rasped. “I wanna give you the money shot first.”
I wasn’t quite sure what he meant, but I’d already decided I would let this man do whatever he wanted to me.
Even if I’d wanted to ask him to clarify, I wouldn’t have been able to.
I was too mesmerized with how the color rose to his cheeks as he neared release—the way his teeth worried his bottom lip and his gaze grew unfocused a few seconds before he moaned low and came all over my lower back.
Marking me as his once again.
It was doubtful he saw it that way, but the contentment I felt at this moment—the same as when his teeth were in my neck while he rode me—was undeniable.
I wanted to belong to Rowen Quincy so badly, I could taste it, and as he lazily spread his cum over my skin while dragging a wet finger down my crack to rub some over my hole, I allowed my eyes to flutter closed, pretending it was true.
“Do you want to take the first shower?” Rowen’s voice abruptly roused me from my daydream.
“I don’t want to shower…” I sleepily mumbled before fully realizing what I’d confessed.
Shit.
I cleared my throat and straightened before turning to face him. “What I meant is—”
“You want to smell like me,” Rowen replied, his gaze darkening as he stepped closer. “Careful, Luxford. You’re gonna make me start acting like a fucking caveman.”
I won’t stop you.
His gaze fell to my lips and I froze, dying for him to close that last inch between us and give me what I was craving, despite where his mouth had been.
Please kiss me.
“Was that a home theater we walked through on the way back here?” he said instead, disappointingly meeting my gaze again.
“Yes,” I replied, grabbing a robe from a nearby hook and covering myself up, suddenly self-conscious. “Would you like to watch something?”
“Sure.” He grinned, blessing me with that gorgeous gap. “How about The Thomas Crown Affair? For inspiration, of course.”
“Sounds good.” I nodded before walking past him to the adjoining closet, noticing how he watched but didn’t follow. “Let me just change into some leisurewear—”
“Ohhh… so you do know how to relax?” he teased as I grabbed a pair of Brunello Cucinelli terry trousers, a tee, and a double-cloth sweatshirt. “Am I going to see a less snooty, more laid back version of you in Italy?”
“You will,” I replied, my gaze drifting to the rest of the closet’s contents, hidden from his view. “I do my best to embody the art of sprezzatura while abroad.”
A relief from the armor I wear on the Upper East Side.
“Yeah, well…” Rowen waved a hand in my direction as he breezed past, through the bedroom and toward the theater. “I hope the one suit I brought in my fancy, monogrammed garment bag is enough for this business trip…”
I stifled a grin, knowing now wasn’t the time to share that this closet had been stocked with clothing for him as well, before quickly pulling on my leisurewear.
That all could wait. Right now, I was looking forward to several hours of forced proximity before our domesticity was forgotten—by him—in favor of “business” once again.