Chapter 24 Mia #2
He pushes open the door wider with his hip and carries me outside.
The cold air hits my naked skin, and I gasp, goosebumps erupting everywhere. We’re high up, the city sprawling beneath us in a glittering grid of lights, and I’m totally naked except for my open robe.
“I don’t want to fly anywhere!” I protest, panic causing my legs to kick out.
“We ain’t flying,” he says. “We’re fucking.”
“Are you insane?” I hiss. “Someone will see—”
“No one will see.” He sets me down on the narrow balcony, my back against the railing, and I feel the cold metal bite into my skin. “Watch.”
He flickers like a bad television signal, his image stuttering, and then, he’s gone. He’s totally invisible again, but I can still feel him. His hands on my hips. His breath on my throat. The press of his body against mine, warm and solid, so solid, despite being completely unseen.
“See?” His voice comes from everywhere and nowhere. “No one can see us. Just you and me…and the whole city below.”
Oh.
“That’s mad,” I breathe. “Completely fucking mad.”
“Is that a no?”
I turn my head and look down, the wind whipping back my hair. There’s a hundred feet of nothing between me and the street. My nearly naked body is pressed against the railing by a man I can’t see, who has the power to snap that railing like a toothpick.
It’s terrifying, that lizard brain fear of falling to my death, of being so exposed, of trusting someone this completely. Every single nerve inside me is tight, pins and needles coursing through my whole body.
But underneath the fear is something else. It’s total and utter freedom combined with exhibitionism at its finest.
I swallow hard, licking my lips before I answer. “It’s not a no.”
His invisible hands tighten on my hips. I hear him groan—feel the vibration of it against my throat where his mouth must be.
“Turn around.”
I obey without thinking, turning to face the city, gripping the railing with both hands.
The metal is cold under my palms, the wind sharp against my bare breasts as it blows back my robe, and I’m suddenly, acutely, aware of how vulnerable I am—naked, exposed, bent over a railing high above Manhattan with an invisible superhero at my back.
Anyone with a drone could see me, let alone someone in a neighboring building if they had binoculars or a zoom lens.
I hear his zipper. The sound seems to fill the air, making my cunt throb in response, like Pavlov’s Dog. And then, there’s heat against my arse, the slide of warm skin, the blunt head of his cock pressing against my entrance. I’m trembling all over again.
“I wish you could see what I see,” he whispers. “How fucking beautiful you are.”
He pushes in. The stretch is familiar now but no less overwhelming—that impossible fullness, the burn that teeters on the edge of too much. I cry out, my grip on the railing tightening, and I feel his hands on my hips, steadying me, holding me in place, even though I feel like I’m already falling.
“That’s it, darlin’.” His voice is rough silk in my ear. “You look so good taking me like this, stretched wide by nothing at all.”
He sinks into the hilt, and we both go still, the air freezing in my lungs for a second.
The city thrums below us, oblivious, and the wind carries away the sounds I’m making—whimpers, gasps, half-formed pleas.
I’m impaled on a cock, held by hands I can’t watch yet exposed for all of Manhattan to see, and it’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever experienced.
“Look straight down,” he orders.
I do—at the street far below, filled with tiny cars, the people who have no idea what’s happening above them. Thankfully.
“Anyone could look up right now.” His hips pull back then thrust forward, and I moan.
“Anyone could glance at this balcony and see a beautiful woman gripping the railing, her face flushed, her body trembling, her breasts bare, those nipples so fucking tiny.” Another thrust, harder.
“They wouldn’t know why, wouldn’t see me buried inside you.
They’d just see you, coming apart in the open air, like a private exhibition. ”
It’s nearly making me explode.
“They’d wonder what you were doing.” His pace increases, each stroke hitting deeper, the slick sounds so lewd. “Wonder why you look so ravaged. Wonder what could possibly make a woman moan like that when she’s all alone on a balcony.”
God, yes. Every word sends a spike of heat straight to my core, makes me clench around him so hard, he hisses.
“You like that.” He sounds surprised, delighted. “Oh, you fucking like the idea of being watched, don’t you, you little slut?”
I gasp at his words. This is the first time he’s degraded me instead of praised me, and, bloody hell, I think I love it.
“You like that too, don’t you?” he rasps quietly. “You’re leaking down your legs now, soaking me. Such a dirty little whore. Such a tight little pussy for such a filthy slut.”
Holy fuck, I can’t process it, any of this. My skin is so heated, all I feel is fire inside me, smothering me, wanting to consume me whole.
He’s fucking me harder now, one hand braced on the railing beside mine, the other wrapped around my hip to pull me back onto each thrust. The angle is incredible, every stroke hitting that spot inside me that makes my eyes roll back, my mouth falling open.
I’m making sounds that would embarrass me if I could think, but I can’t think; I can only feel.
“You’re so tight.” His voice is breaking apart. “So fucking wet. Every time I’m inside you, I lose my goddamn mind. You make me lose my mind, Mia. Do you know the power you have over me?”
The last part is said so quietly, it sounds like a confession, one that makes my heart trip up. I open my mouth to say something, anything, but can only let out a moan.
The idea I have power over this man, of all men…
“I want you to come.” His invisible mouth finds my ear, teeth scraping the rim. “Come hard on my cock with all of New York watching.”
He doesn’t have to tell me twice, even though he did.
I let go.
The orgasm rips through me with violent intensity, my whole body convulsing, my scream swallowed by the wind. My legs give out completely, but he holds me up, keeps thrusting, fucking me through the peak until I’m sobbing with overstimulation.
“Mia…” My name is a breathless prayer as his rhythm falters. “Fuck, I’m—”
He slams deep one final time, and I feel him come, feel the pulse and throb of him inside me, the heat spreading through my core. He groans my name like both a curse and a prayer, and I feel his forehead drop to my shoulder, his breath ragged against my skin.
We stay there for a long moment, suspended between sky and street, his invisible body draped over my visible one. The wind dries the sweat on my skin. The city pulses below us, utterly unaware.
Then, he flickers back into visibility, his arms wrapping around my waist before he carries me inside.
Later, we lay tangled in my hotel sheets, legs intertwined, his hand slowly gliding up and down my curves. It should seem relaxing, but there’s a restlessness to his actions.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, propping myself up on one elbow.
His fingers still on my skin.
“I turned off my wellness monitoring tonight,” he says finally. “First time ever. Just…switched it off and came here instead of doing my rounds.”
“Are you in trouble?”
“Probably.” He snorts a humorless laugh. “Julia will have noticed the gap by now. Marsh will want an explanation, I’m sure.” His jaw tightens, his eyes darkening. “They’re always watching me—every heartbeat, every hormone spike, everywhere I go. I’m so fucking tired of it, Mia.”
I reach up, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead. He leans into the touch like a man starved.
“I want to take you somewhere,” he says suddenly.
“Where?”
“Montana. Livingston. Where I grew up.” His eyes find mine, and somehow, he looks younger.
I can almost picture him as the cowboy of his youth.
“Global Dynamix wants to turn the ranch into a museum someday. The Vanguard Experience or some shit. But I own it, and it’s still mine—for now. Still real.”
“Montana,” I repeat. “That’s not next door.”
“No, it ain’t. But Danny can take us in the hover car. I’ll leave the watch behind. I mean, they’ll still track me through the vehicle, but at least I won’t be pinged every five minutes.” He pauses. “I want to show you who I was, before all this. Before I became their property.”
The word lands heavy between us. Property.
I think about my mission, about the intel I’m supposed to be gathering, the reports I owe London…the lies I’ve already told. I think about Kat’s warning: when this is over, someone will have to put him down.
And I think about the man in front of me. The one who turned off his surveillance to see me. The one who wants to show me his childhood home, his real self, the person he was before they turned him into a symbol.
Or maybe even a weapon, a voice speaks up.
“Okay,” I say.
His face lights up, actually lights up, like a boy who’s just been told Christmas is coming early. It’s bloody adorable.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Take me to Montana, Nate Whitaker. Show me who you really are.”
His arms tighten around me, pulling me close, and I feel his smile against my hair.
This is dangerous, I think. This is so fucking dangerous.
But I’m already in too deep to care.