Chapter 40 #3
She swallows, but doesn’t look away. She reaches forward to slide her fingers through mine instead.
I shoot her a look of disapproval, but let her do it anyway.
I always fucking let her. We sit with her head on my shoulder and watch the movie, her fingers intertwined with mine.
I should pull away. I know that. But I don’t.
I can’t.
At one point, she lifts the armrest upright to get closer. After a few more minutes, she pulls my hand toward her, under the sweater draped over her lap, and guides me between her legs.
I whirl on her, eyes wide. “What are you doing?”
She meets my eyes and I almost groan. Feral need. That’s what I see on her face. Pupils blown, breathing heavy, her cheeks pink. She’s overwhelmingly turned on right now and she is desperate. Desperate enough to try this on a plane.
“Boston, I—” Shame hits her face as she shakes her head, but she’s squeezing the life out of my hand like it’s a liferaft.
I risk a look up toward Fork. Still not visible. Still asleep. The crew remains at the front of the plane. The seats across the row are empty. I swallow, looking back at her face, aching at the sight of it.
Fuck, this is a nightmare.
Fuck, I could die thinking about how she felt last night.
I open my mouth to deny her, but she’s trembling against me. Shaking. I have never once seen a woman need to get off this badly. We needed twenty-four hours in that hotel room to get this out of our system. The few we were given were not enough.
“Come closer,” I order quietly. She shimmies toward me instantly and I pull her tightly to my side, taking up a more casual position.
I drape her oversized sweater over her lap and let it fall over my leg a bit, like I’m also using it for warmth.
I rest my cheek against her head and bring my mouth close to her ear. “Watch the movie.”
Her eyes snap to the screen, her breathing still heavy.
I guide our hands between her legs. She opens for me slightly, just enough to give me room.
I feel her warmth through her leggings, beckoning me.
It takes everything in me not to groan, knowing that she got this hot and bothered from one kiss.
I swallow, pressing my fingers to her over her clothes.
She buries her face in my sweater, letting out a breath of relief as my fingers slowly work her as best as I can.
She’s soaked. I can tell, despite not touching her skin-to-skin.
It’s immensely clear that she didn’t ask me for this until it became unbearable.
I stop each time she starts to writhe or move, because what we’re doing is very fucking illegal and very fucking stupid.
She needs to stay still and get off. That’s it.
As fast as she can. I press harder, feeling her bite softly into my shoulder.
I curse, swallowing heavily.
“A little wider,” I whisper. She obliges me. I use the heel of my hand to put enough pressure where she needs it and a small little whimper leaves her mouth. “None of that. Use me as a muzzle if you need to.”
She buries her face in the fabric of my hoodie again.
When her hand snaps to my wrist, I know she’s close. I glance down at her and she must feel the weight of my gaze, because she moves her head enough to look up at me.
“You better stay quiet,” I warn.
She forces a lazy smile, but then her brow furrows and her mouth pops open and I know a moan is about to spill out into this quiet plane.
I smash my mouth to hers as she comes against my fingers, a broken, desperate moan being smothered by my kiss.
My tongue slides into her mouth, and she rides my hand as I force her downward to keep her in her seat.
When she relaxes, I slowly withdraw my hand. Her fingers glide along my arm as I do. She looks up at me, a bit afraid of what she’ll see. She is right to be. I’m already scowling at her, my dick aching and my heart slamming against my chest.
She smiles gently, satiated and tired, like that was a fucking normal thing for us to do.
Unbelievable.
“I might hold that one against you. That shit was too close to comfort,” I mutter.
She relaxes against my arm. “They can’t see us.”
“Not the point.” There’s a whole fucking plane that could have.
“I needed it,” she whispers, searching my eyes. “Badly, Boston.”
My eyes drop to her mouth and she notices. Her smile grows.
“End of the sentence.”
“Start of the story,” she counters quickly.
I sigh, shaking my head. My fingers are warm and probably smell like her now. My cock is rock hard in my pants. This is a waking nightmare that there is no escaping. Everytime I think I’m in the clear, she prances back into the picture with a smile made of trouble.
Her eyes dart down to my lap.
“Want me to—?”
“No,” I snap. “No. I’m going to suffer for my behaviour.”
She snorts a laugh, nuzzling into my arm, and wraps her hands around my bicep to get comfortable. “It won’t happen again. I promise.”
“Don’t feel bad,” I murmur with a sigh. “I’ll get off for the next year from the memory of it.”
She gasps. “Boston Black, stop flirting with me.”
I shake my head, running a hand over my face, trying my hardest not to smile.
When Forker finally wakes up and glances over his headrest, Ari is fast asleep, facing away from me. I meet his eyes, her fingers still warm against my arm.