Chapter Six #2
I lean back and let my thighs fall open, just enough that what's happening in my shorts goes from suggestion to statement. I catch the exact moment it lands. Her whole chest stops moving for a split second before she locks it back down, but it's too late.
I've got her.
"Good morning, Jackson," she says on a breath.
"Why have you been ignoring me?"
Her tongue darts out and drags slowly across her bottom lip, and I can almost feel it on my...
"We needed boundaries."
"Boundaries," I repeat it back flat, like it's a word in a language I don't speak.
"Yes. What happened the other night. The shower. You sleeping in my bed."
"Nothing happened, Rosalie."
"You kissed me. And stop calling me that."
"It's your name."
"You know what I mean."
"Do I?" I smirk.
Our eyes lock, and that gravitational pull between us comes roaring back at full force. I've never experienced this with another woman. Only Rose can look at me across a few feet of empty space and make my entire body react like she's already touching me.
I let my eyes travel over her slowly, deliberately, imagining my hands everywhere my gaze lands.
She feels it. I know she does because her breathing picks up and her thighs tighten, release, then tighten again while her hands curl around the armrests with white-knuckled determination.
I want to replace that leather with my skin so badly my palms fucking ache.
"Tell me what you need, Rosalie."
"I don't. I..." Her breath catches. "I need y—"
"Refill now that we're at cruising altitude?" Jessica asks, breaking the spell.
When the fuck did we even take off?
Rose blinks like she's just remembered we're sitting on an airplane with other human beings.
"Excuse me."
She gets to her feet and heads toward the back of the jet, disappearing into the bed quarters before the door clicks shut behind her.
I watch it for a second.
Then I look at Jessica. "She's not feeling well. I'll go check on her. Make sure we aren't disturbed."
"Yes, Mr. Jackson. Of course."
I stand, already knowing I'm about to cross so many fucking lines that counting them would be pointless. Whatever has been building between Rose and me isn't going back into the box this time. Not after the last two days. Not after hearing the beginning of I need you come out of her mouth.
I need her.
And God help me, I think she needs me too.
I pull a tie from my carry-on and ball it into my pocket before heading toward the back of the plane, my heart beating hard enough against my ribs that you'd think it was trying to reach the door before I do.
It's unlocked when I try the handle.
Rose is standing beside the bed, chest rising and falling quickly, her eyes already fixed on me before I've fully stepped inside. I shut the door behind me and turn the lock, the click somehow sounding louder than the engines outside.
"Jackson."
"Rosalie."
I take a slow step toward her, and she doesn't move.
Fuck, she's beautiful like this. Flushed and fighting herself, looking at me with years’ worth of reasons why this can't happen and absolutely none of them doing a damn thing to make either of us want it less.
"You're married, Jackson."
I take another step and cradle her jaw in my hand, tipping her face toward mine.
"I've never loved her. I've only ever loved you."
Her eyes close and she pulls in a breath that shakes on the way down. I brush my mouth over hers, barely there at first, and feel her fingers catch in the fabric of my shirt.
"Take what you need from me, Rosalie." I keep my voice low, because this isn't the moment for jokes or another round of pretending we don't know each other. "I know what you need. You need control. You need somewhere to put all of it for a while, and I can take it."
Her grip on my shirt tightens.
"Let me take it."
I lower myself to my knees without taking my eyes off hers, then pull the tie from my pocket and place it into her open hand.
An offering.
Because that's exactly what it is.
I watch the shift happen as her fingers close around it. Her spine straightens, her chin lifts, and the uncertainty that followed her into this room starts settling into something I recognize.
The Domme in her takes over.
God, I've missed her.
This is what she needed. Maybe what we both needed.
Rose doesn't say a word as she loops the tie around my neck and knots it with steady hands. It's been so fucking long since that hotel room, but I've daydreamed about this more times than I'll ever admit. Her above me. Me exactly where I belong.
"What am I going to do with you?" she muses, her voice gone deep and husky.
"Whatever you please, ma'am."
Her mouth curves into a sexy smile.
"Take out your cock and stroke it." She gives the tie a sharp pull, and the jolt of it shoots straight down my spine, lighting up every nerve on the way.
I obey.
I wrap my hand around my cock and do my best to show some restraint, because what I really want is to fuck my fist until I see stars. But she said stroke, and I'm not about to start ignoring instructions now, so I keep it slow and let her watch.
"Lift my skirt and take my panties off. Put them in your pocket. You're going to need them later."
Fuck yes.
"Yes, ma'am."
With one hand still working my cock, I reach up with the other and slide her skirt to her hips, hooking my fingers into black lace and dragging her thong down her thighs.
She holds onto my shoulder as she steps out of it, and I ball the lace up, still warm from her body, before sliding it into my pocket where the tie had been.
My pockets are becoming a museum of her.
Precum coats my palm as I keep stroking, waiting for her to tell me to stop. She doesn't. She just watches, bare beneath her skirt now, those heavy gray eyes fixed on my hand like she owns it.
Which, right now, she absolutely fucking does.
"Make me come, Jackson."
"How would you like me to do that, ma'am?"
I'm drooling. Literally fucking drooling, and I have to wipe the corner of my mouth with the back of my hand. Something satisfied curls at the edge of hers when she sees it. Rose notices everything, especially when I'm making a complete ass of myself at her feet.
"Two fingers. Fuck me."
I go to obey without breaking eye contact and nearly come in my fist when I feel a piercing.
For a moment, I break the scene entirely, because when the fuck did this happen?
"Let me see it."
She smiles and holds up her skirt, revealing the black barbell clit piercing. "Go ahead."
"Fuck. Rose, please. I can't."
I don't even know what I'm pleading for.
I just wrap my mouth around it and suck, pulling it with my teeth, and her mouth falls open on the first breath as her hand drops to my shoulder to steady herself.
Her nails bite through my shirt, every reaction coming through her body before it ever reaches her face.
"Fuck. Yes."
That's all the encouragement I need.
I suck harder, then slide two fingers inside her, curling them, matching her as her breathing gets rougher and her grip on my shoulder tightens.
I'm so fucking close myself that every nerve in my body is screaming at me to stop pretending I have any restraint left, but that's not how this works.
She gave me an instruction, and until she gives me another one, I stay exactly where she put me.
Besides, she comes first.
She always comes first.
I know the moment she's there. Her breath catches, and her whole body goes still for one suspended second before the control finally slips.
A long, shattered moan tears out of her, her knees giving enough that she drops down in front of me, trembling through the release while I stay with her until the last of it passes.
And somehow, even wrecked and on her knees in front of me, she's still the one completely in control.
"Good fucking boy." She drags her tongue across my lips and takes my chin between her teeth, claiming me, and when she finally pulls back, her eyes are heavy and satisfied. "Good boys get rewarded. Stand up."
Fucking hell. I don't trust my legs right now, woman. But she gave an order, so I brace a hand on the edge of the bed and get my feet under me, my knees buzzing from being so close to orgasm.
She stays on her knees.
The sight of it nearly puts me back on mine.
Rosalie Bennett, kneeling on the floor of a jet, looking up at me through her lashes with my tie still knotted around my neck like a leash she hasn't decided to use yet.
Even in the hotel room, I never got this.
That night was about her pleasure, and I was happy to oblige.
I would've been happy to spend the rest of my life obliging.
But having her on her knees in front of me now, by her own choice and on her own command, sets off fireworks low in my stomach.