Chapter 2 #3

My heart slammed against my ribs, a rush of panic mixing with the forbidden thrill pulsing through my veins.

The risk of being caught like this—exposed, vulnerable, completely entangled with him—only heightened every sensation.

He didn't stop. His eyes burned into mine with dark amusement as his fingers continued their relentless rhythm, pushing me closer to the edge.

I pressed my face into his shoulder, biting back a moan, my entire body trembling with the effort to stay silent.

"We're fine," he answered smoothly, voice low and steady. "Just some turbulence."

The attendant lingered a second longer before her footsteps retreated.

The brief interruption left me breathless, my pulse racing with adrenaline that only amplified the building pressure inside me.

He intensified his touch, mouth returning to my breast while his hand drove me higher and higher until everything inside me shattered.

Pleasure crashed over me in powerful waves, stronger and more consuming than anything I'd felt before.

I clung to him, shaking uncontrollably as the climax swept through every nerve, leaving me dazed and gasping.

He gave me barely a moment to catch my breath.

Lifting me down, he turned me gently but firmly to face the mirror.

My reflection stared back—flushed and disheveled, eyes wide with lingering pleasure, lips swollen from his kisses.

The sight of myself like this, so undone by him, sent a fresh surge of heat through me.

"Look at yourself," he murmured roughly against my ear, his body pressing close behind me. "See what you do to me... what I do to you."

He entered me slowly at first, then with deep, powerful strokes that stole my breath.

The feeling of him filling me, claiming me so completely, was overwhelming.

Each thrust sent ripples of intense pleasure through my body, building with relentless force.

I braced my hands on the counter, unable to tear my gaze from the mirror—watching the way my face changed with every movement, the raw connection between us reflected back at me.

The tension coiled tighter and tighter inside me until it broke in a blinding rush.

This climax was unlike anything I'd ever experienced—deeper, more shattering, washing over me in powerful, endless waves that left me trembling and crying out against his hand as he muffled my voice.

Pure ecstasy consumed every thought, every sensation, until there was nothing left but him and the overwhelming pleasure he drew from me.

We stood there for a long moment, still connected, both panting hard, the plane's engine humming around us. When he pulled out, I bit my lip to keep from whimpering at the loss, at the sudden emptiness and the warmth of him trickling down my thigh.

He kissed my earlobe, and I inhaled sharply as he spoke. "You're so fucking sexy it drives me insane." He stepped back slightly, and when those gray eyes met mine in the mirror, I was completely lost in their depths. "You okay?"

I was breathing hard. "Never better."

God, I'd never had sex like that in my life. He fucked my brains out.

We cleaned up and got dressed. He led me back to our seats, taking the aisle seat for himself this time.

My cheeks were still burning, my heartbeat refusing to fully settle.

I smoothed down my slightly rumpled dress and took a deep breath.

The man beside me was flipping through a financial magazine, looking as impeccably composed and controlled as ever, as if the wild animal in that bathroom hadn't been him at all.

But the hand resting casually on the armrest bore a faint red mark on his ring finger knuckle—my handiwork.

I felt a power I'd never experienced before surging through my body. What was Derek compared to this? He could go find his pathetic validation with Chloe's bony frame while I, Vivienne Cole, had just fucked a top-tier predator whose name I didn't even know.

I pulled the tray table down and reopened my MacBook.

The screen lit up, cursor still blinking at the end of that unfinished paragraph.

My mind was clearer than it had ever been, inspiration erupting like a volcano. I typed faster and faster, letters forming sentences, sentences building into scenes crackling with tension.

I poured that victorious, all-conquering satisfaction I'd just experienced into my protagonist without reservation.

I typed the final line. "Rachel stood frozen to the floor, completely stunned.

Before the spotlight could swing toward her, she instinctively whipped her head toward the source of the voice—and her gaze locked with Samantha's, standing just steps away with a champagne flute in hand, her lips curved in an undisguised, victorious smirk. "

After typing that last word, I was still floating.

The flight attendant brings us more champagne and the food he ordered.

Every bite of food tasted extraordinary.

Was it because it was prepared by world-class chefs?

Or because this devastatingly sexy man had just given me the best orgasm of my life in an airplane bathroom?

I didn't know the answer, but I chose to enjoy the moment.

As for the future?

No names exchanged. That was our unspoken agreement.

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