Chapter 50 – Emerson
FIFTY
EMERSON
I kiss Grant back with a need more desperate than I’ve ever felt before. Right here in the drop zone, I deepen the kiss with my hands gripping the lapel of his flight suit and take every damn thing I need from him.
Leo chuckles somewhere near as he gathers his own chute, but I don’t care. He gets it. He gets this. Post-jump sex is indescribable. Using the high of the adrenaline coupled with the bliss of an orgasm is a major inside joke amongst jumpers.
And more than anything, right now, I need Grant.
He showed up today seeing a broken woman ready to give it all up.
Then with his simple request, he started putting my bricks and mortar back into place to prove that I am as strong as I thought I was.
Sure there is doubt, and there always will be.
But he knew that was what I needed—to be pushed back into my comfort zone so I’d find my confidence again. So, I’d wipe out my skepticism.
Grant leans back, the gold in his eyes dancing with excitement and lust, and I know he feels the same way I do.
We shared something up there. I’ve jumped hundreds of times and have had the trust of the people I jumped with, but this was different.
We both took what the other offered and used it to conquer something we feared.
I shove the rig off my back, leaving the parachute billowing in the breeze to pick up later, and without care of who else might be looking, I jump into Grant’s arms and wrap my legs around his waist.
Between spurts of laughter, our lips find each other’s, and God, how good it feels to laugh with him and kiss him. How good it feels to know my mom is looking down on me, approving of my taking a chance. How funny it seems that I want him to save me after all.
“I need you,” I murmur against his lips as my hands thread in his hair and the heat of the sun does nothing to rival the fire in my body already burning bright.
“My dick’s already five steps ahead of you.” He chuckles as he begins to walk across the field with me wrapped around him like a monkey.
I wave over Grant’s shoulder to Leo, who just shakes his head at us and rolls his eyes. I think he says something sarcastic like, “Sure, I’ll take care of your parachute while you fuck,” but I don’t care, and I don’t have any shame because it isn’t like he’s never experienced this feeling before.
“Hurry,” I murmur as I nip the tip of his earlobe.
“Where? Keys?” His cock presses against me with each step he takes and makes the walk across the strip tortuous.
“Shit. My keys are in the office.” I laugh as my mind scrambles. “Go to the left. Red hangar. Far side.”
“Christ,” he mutters, but only because with each rub over his dick he lets out a little groan. “Here?”
“Mm-hmm. The door slides,” I say even though he’s already pulling open the large barn-type door.
Then we’re into the shadows of the red hangar and he’s shoving the door shut and slamming me back against it.
His lips are on mine in a savage union of lust and greed and want and need and every one of the seven sins mixed in there.
There is no finesse. There are no niceties. We are all about how fast we can unharness ourselves from our rigs and step out of them so we can feel and enjoy each other’s skin.
“Christ, Em.”
“I know. Hurry.” A laugh falls from my lips. “Post-jump sex is the best kind of sex there is.”
“Oh really?” he says, leaning back to meet my eyes. His have darkened with lust and suggestion.
“Mm-hmm.”
“You were holding out on me.” A brush of his lips against mine. A cup of his hand against my ass pulling me against his hardened dick.
“Can’t hold out on someone when they are the one refusing you.” I quirk my lips, but then they fall lax as he tugs down the zipper of my suit and yanks down my tank so he can suck then graze his teeth over my nipple.
“I’m not refusing you now, am I?”
“I wouldn’t let you,” I challenge.
There is a quiet moment where our eyes lock and our bodies vibrate from our connection – mental, physical, emotional—and then within a beat, we are back into frenzy mode.
Zippers on flight suits sound off. The shimmy of clothes being pushed down.
The squeak of shoes on concrete. The begged pleas to hurry. Quicker. I’m desperate.
And then, as we stand in this massive hangar buck naked, his body a mouth-watering sight only serving to encourage my urgency for him, I realize there isn’t really anywhere to have sex in here except for the concrete floor.
The walls are lined with industrial shelving units.
The tables are covered with plane parts.
“Where are we going to . . . crap.”
He takes in the sparse space save for the Cessna in one corner and a Piper in another before turning back to look at me with a gleam in his eye.
“What?” I ask.
“Guess there’s no time like the present to join the mile-high club, huh?”
Before I can process what he means, he lets out a whoop, swoops down, wraps his arms around my thighs and hoists me buck ass naked over his shoulder.
“Red or blue?” he asks, and I can only guess he’s making me choose a plane. I don’t have the heart to ask how he plans on joining any kind of club when there is definitely no room in either of them to have sex. “Decide.”
“Blue,” I say, and then cry out in shock when his hand smacks my ass as he makes his way over to the Piper. “Grant. What are—”
“Shush.” He slowly lets me down so that I slide down the length of his body.
The friction of my slow descent makes my nipples bud so hard they hurt, but it has nothing on the ache banging hard between my thighs.
“We’re chasing the moment,” he says, flashing a smile before his lips are on mine again.
The trailing edge of the wing is at my back and he pushes my ass against it while we speak with tongues and moans instead of coherent words.
The adrenaline is a high, but so is the taste of Grant Malone. And, Christ, how I want more of him.
Our hands are everywhere and not enough places on each other. His fingers find their way between my thighs, and the groan he emits when they find me wet, willing, and wanting for him is enough to make me come on the spot.
But that’s cheating.
If he wants to make me come, he’d better work harder than that to earn it.
“Turn around,” he demands.
“Should I assume the position?” My eyes flash up to meet his, my bottom lip between my teeth as I make a deliberate show of turning around. I lay my torso and breasts against the wing and wiggle my ass in a tease as I hiss at the cool metal beneath my bare flesh.
“Christ, Em.”
“Are you gonna frisk me, Officer Malone?” I say in my huskiest of voices.
His chuckle rumbles through the space as I wait for him. The sound of his hand working over his own cock is chased by his groan of appreciation, and just knowing he’s doing that because he likes what he sees is fire to my blood.
“Frisking someone has never been so tempting.” His foot knocks my feet farther apart before he leans forward. “Spread ‘em,” he says in my ear, the scrape of his chin against my shoulder as he retreats again causing chills to race over my skin.
Then there is an anticipatory silence as he stands behind me and I wait. Adrenaline begs me to rush this, my need paramount, but there’s something about how sexy this is that has me biting my lip as I stand there, bare to him, aching for him to satisfy me.
I startle when his hands hit both sides of my right ankle before slowly sliding their way up my leg.
When they hit the apex of my thighs, he rubs his thumb back and forth along my slit before pressing into me.
The only sounds in the hangar belong to my hitched breath, his labored groan, and his thumb working me at a leisurely pace.
And once he has me wanting enough that I’m pushing back against his touch, he stops, repositions his hands, and then starts his ascent up the other leg.
But this time when he reaches the top, I groan when he removes his thumb without stroking me.
Then gasp when his tongue does it for him.
His tongue is hot and I’m wet and . . . holy hell. My eyes flutter closed at the feel of him. The tease of what’s to come. The desperation for all of him.
I wriggle under his manipulation and plead when he stops. He takes one long, last lick with a libidinous groan before stepping back so that our only connection is where his hand runs back and forth over the curve of my ass.
Every part of me wants him.
“Is there a problem, Officer,” I ask coyly, so very aware that he’s allowing me to continue this charade of control he’s afforded me for the past few hours.
I don’t think he realizes that he could ask me for anything right now, and I’d give it to him.
Something changed between us today. Shifted. The fear I had over him, about him, is gone. I just need to accept it. Everything in me is whispering that a jumping-high orgasm slamming through my system to remind me how incredible his cock is will help do the trick.
“It seems I have forgotten my handcuffs.” He chuckles and lands a smart slap on my ass.
“Oh, am I under arrest?”
“Definitely.”
The palm of his hand slides down the line of my spine.
“What’s the charge?”
“Making me want you. Every minute of every goddamn day.”
His hands spreading me apart and then his mouth blowing ever so softly over me.
“What’s the punishment?” I’m breathless, spent before we even start.
“I’m going to fuck you. Thoroughly. Properly.
And hopefully slowly . . .” His words seduce me, but it’s his dick slowly slipping into me that consumes me.
It’s the feel of his thumbs caressing over my ass before one of them presses unexpectedly against the tight rim of muscles above it that excites me.
I part moan, part wriggle back against his fingers to let him know I want him.
“But the way you feel right now, I can’t promise the slowly part. ”