Chapter 26 #2
I should’ve known better. Lane said he was sending a plane, not a fucking crop duster.
Carol’s warm smile calms my stomach acid. “Sometimes the Fosters will board straight from working cattle. Dusty boots and all. I love it. Some of the clients we fly?” She harrumphs. “It’s always a relief when we get to fly the Foster House crew.”
Okay, Carol is a true diamond. I pick a chair and groan when it catches me like a cloud.
“Nice, right?” Lane takes the one next to me. We buckle in.
“If my mom could see me now. I’m the one who ends up in a private jet, and it’s because of Dad?”
“Poetic justice?”
“Actually, yeah.” Me in my overalls, getting treated like I matter by the flight crew, heals a wound inside me that’s always gaped open.
“It’s a short flight, but once we’re able to get up, I’ll show you around.”
The takeoff isn’t much different than a bigger plane, only I have a cushy seat to myself and only Lane next to me. Carol gets us drinks, checks on our comfort, and then, at Lane’s request, makes herself scarce.
Lane unbuckles. “Want to see the back?”
“Is there a second level I’m missing?” I stand up anyway. My old friend insecurity is sneaking back in. We’re in the air. This is real. He can jet-set to wherever he wants, whenever he wants. It’s not my clothes, it’s his reality.
“No second level.” He opens a folding door, and yep, there’s a bedroom. He stands aside, so I wander in.
“There’s more space than there should be.” The bed isn’t a small bunk. Two people can fit in it.
He steps in and shuts the door behind him.
I pivot on a heel, excitement growing like ivy twining around my belly. “Mr. Foster,” I ask coyly. “Are you blocking my exit?”
“You’re free to leave the room.” A slow, sexy smile crosses his face. “But it’s my goal to make sure you don’t want to.”
Desire warms its way through me. “How do you plan to do that?”
“By showing you what goes through my head each time I see you in those overalls.”
I wince and hook my fingers around the straps. “I can’t believe I didn’t change.”
“Well, I’m glad it didn’t happen. Turn around.”
I’m at the end of the bed. I slowly spin, and a tremor ripples down my body as he closes in behind me. His wall of heat surrounds me. We’re enclosed in this room, and I’m enveloped in him.
He drapes each ponytail over a shoulder, then drops a kiss at the crook of my neck. “I missed you.”
“You haven’t even been gone for a day.”
“I know.” He wraps his arms around my waist and holds me to him. His erection prods my ass through our clothing, but he doesn’t make a move. He holds me like he really did miss me for the ten hours he’s been away. “I didn’t want to sleep alone tonight.”
He could’ve found someone to hook up with. He could’ve gone out for the night and brought someone back to the loft in Foster House, and I wouldn’t have known. Instead, he flew to pick me up.
He used those unlimited resources to spend time with me.
Am I really powerless?
I run my hands along his arms. He’s rolled his sleeves up, baring his strong forearms. “You’re bringing me all the way to Denver to sleep?”
“We’ll sleep.” He unhooks one shoulder flap, then the other. “After I fuck you against the windows in my office.”
My overalls are yanked down, and a groan resonates through the small room. Cool cabin air wafts over my bare ass. “Fuck me. Your pussy’s been bare this whole time?”
“I didn’t think there’d be a flight crew.” I thought we’d be in a loft, all alone in the entire distillery.
“They’re at the front of the plane.” He massages my butt cheeks. “You’re naughty, Em, and it’s going to kill me.” Flattening his hands on my abdomen, he drags his nose up my neck. “Best death ever.”
“Don’t die on this trip. I’m embarrassed enough.”
“You’re bare-assed, and that’s all that’s important.” Slipping his hand down my lower belly, he licks along the shell of my ear.
All thoughts of private planes and clothing decisions vanish when his fingertip hits my clit.
“Fuck, you’re soaked,” he breathes into my ear, sending a cascade of shivers down my spine. He pushes down farther, sliding through all that wetness he causes just by looking the way he does and being so damn sweet.
He pushes a finger inside and nudges my legs apart with one of his knees.
With his other hand, he turns my face up to him.
His eyes are dark, swallowed by pupil, and the hard slash of his jaw gives him a dangerous edge.
I love it. I love this part of him. I also love the soft side when he’s clutching the cock pillow and talking to me in the dark.
I love him.
A sonic boom only I can hear resonates between my eardrums. Thankfully, he claims my mouth before I can react. He hits a rhythm I match with a thrust of my hips.
I can’t be in love with my husband. That’ll be really fucking inconvenient during the divorce.
He adds the right amount of pressure to my clit, and I stiffen. I’m so close. I’ve just admitted to loving him and now I’m going to orgasm. Those two things shouldn’t pair together. Because I’m not in love. I’m not falling that easily.
But the pleasure builds, centering him in my brain and my body. All other thoughts shatter when I do. I catch his name before the yell leaves my mouth. He’s got me caged to him, his mouth capturing the sounds leaving my lips. When he releases me, I can take a full breath.
“Fuck, you’re so goddamn beautiful, you drive me out of my mind.” He rips his zipper down and bends me over. “You know how often I’ve thought of doing this?”
I stick my ass out. He plunges inside.
“Lane!” I bite my lip and squeeze my eyes shut. If we could just stay like this. Connected. Complete.
He starts thrusting, and I let him take every single thing he wants. This is his orgasm, and I’m glad to give it to him. In and out, he fills me, and just when I think I’ll feel empty, he pushes back in. His fingers dig into my flesh as he hangs on and keeps me in place at the same time.
“There isn’t”—grunt—“a place in my office”—groan—“that isn’t going to make me think of this sweet pussy.”
I moan and clutch at the blankets.
“I’m taking you everywhere I can.” Hard thrust.
I’m going to tear the damn thing apart. I can’t come again. Not from this.
The slap of our bodies fills the little room, but it doesn’t slow him.
I push back, meeting him stroke for stroke.
When he tilts my hips up, I detonate, not as strong as before but just as powerful.
Because this time we’re coming together, and I wish it meant more. I wish it meant always and forever.
Not just until I serve him with papers.