Fly With Me (7 page)

I didn't know how to describe the feelings pounding through me. Didn't know how to quantify the sensation that from the moment we'd crossed over the threshold, fuck, from the moment I'd seen her, everything I'd known to be true had rolled and turned into a world I no longer recognized.

“This is better than a DCA sortie,” I muttered with a groan.

“What?” Her lips came down on my neck, sucking at the skin there. My dick throbbed.

I hadn't even realized I'd said the words out loud. “It's a good thing. A really fucking good thing.”

I slid my hand up under her dress, skimming my fingers along her inner thigh, caressing her. I'd never felt anything as smooth or as seductive. The image of me fisting my cock, coming all over her pretty skin, filled my mind.

That
would definitely be better than anything I could find in the cockpit. Hell, the image alone was heart attack inducing and I was
thisclose
to coming. Foreplay went out the window.

“How do you get this thing off?” I asked, tugging at the bottom of her dress.

Jordan grinned, her voice a breathy whisper. “Quickly.”

She slid away from me, fumbling with the back of the dress and then she lifted her hips and pulled it over her head, the fabric hitting the floor, her body bare but for her heels and a sheer black thong that highlighted more than it concealed.

I went a little light-headed, the pain in my chest intensifying.

She sat back down on the edge of the sofa, her legs spread, no shyness between us. Motherfucking jackpot. Her confidence was hot on a whole other level. I liked that she didn't insist on the lights off, that she didn't shy away from me looking at her, committing every inch of her body to memory. I had big plans to lick and suck her later, after I'd had her once or twice, to cover her skin with marks from my lips and teeth, to have her moaning as I drove her crazy with need.

The pieces of her body that I'd gotten earlier had been pretty amazing, but the whole picture was something else entirely.

She had the most perfect tits I'd ever seen in my entire life, hands down, no contest. They were the ultimate handful—hell, more than a handful—her nipples a pretty shade of pink I couldn't wait to get my mouth on. I cupped her breasts, my thumbs rubbing against her flesh, hardening the points until I couldn't take it anymore and I leaned forward, capturing her nipple between my lips.

Yes.

She tasted sweet. Melt-in-your-mouth sweet. Addictive. No way was one night going to be enough with this girl.

I tongued her nipple, my teeth grazing her flesh, tugging, my cock hardening as her body responded to my touch, with the soft sighs that escaped her lips. I moved to her other breast, my fingers replacing my lips.

When this had started, my primary concern had been to feel good. To make her feel good. We'd passed by good a long time ago and the mission had changed.

I was a good pilot, hell, a great pilot, because I was relentless, my focus single-minded when it needed to be. When I had a contact on my scope, I didn't let go until that fucker was dead. One night wasn't enough with this girl, and good wasn't what I wanted anymore. I wanted to see her again, beyond Vegas, beyond this night. Getting shot down wasn't an option.

I reached up, pulling her thong off until she was naked before me.

She was fucking gorgeous.

I stood, my hands hooking under her hips, carrying her with me, wrapping her legs around my waist. My mouth went back on hers, my tongue thrusting inside and out, mimicking the motion my cock was desperate to make. We hit the bedroom, her hands scraping over my skin, her core rubbing against me, slippery and wet, throbbing around me.

I set her down on the bed and released her, reaching over and scrounging through my bag for a condom, my heart pounding. My fingers closed over the little foil packet, a silent shout of triumph rushing through me, and then I was ripping it open, my hands shaking as I slid the condom onto my cock.

Jordan lay on the bed, her gaze on me the entire time.

I opened my mouth to speak again, to say something,
anything
, but nothing came. Instead I found myself striding toward the mattress, and then I was between her legs, the head of my cock teasing her entrance, cursing the latex barrier between us, and then with one smooth stroke, I slid inside her, pressure building at the base of my spine.

So fucking good.

Jordan sighed as I filled her, her body clenching down around my cock. For a moment I stayed still, seated to the hilt, the feeling too good for movement, for anything.

Her hands trailed down my back, heating a path down my skin, and then I couldn't
not
move, and my hips began pumping in a familiar rhythm that was as natural as breathing, instinct taking over when my brain failed to work.

My mind went blank, my entire world reduced to the in-and-out, thrust-and-release of my body inside hers, of the shudders that traveled through her to my cock. Sweat pooled on my brow, my body straining as I rode her, as I reached for a release I couldn't yet grasp. Not until she came.

And then it built inside her, coming on strong, and Jordan shattered beneath me, her head thrown back, the look of utter abandon on her face the hottest fucking thing I'd ever seen. And as I watched the last remnants of her orgasm slide out of her, I took the embers, and tilted my hips, increasing my pace, thrusting in and out, harder, faster, bringing the next one on like a one-two punch.

When her second orgasm hit, when she shrieked my name, her body closing down on me like a vise, I let go, finally giving in to the release I craved until I saw stars.

Nothing had ever come close to my hand on the throttle, in the clouds like a god, going Mach 1.5, the world below me nothing but a memory. But now, my cock surrounded by her wetness, her body shuddering around mine as her pussy clenched down, the wave of her orgasm thrusting her tits forward and arching her back, my balls tightening as I succumbed to my own release, I preferred fucking to flying.

JORDAN

Noah hooked an arm around my waist, tucking me into the curve of his body, my cheek resting above his heart. His hand trailed down my side, lazily stroking my hip, squeezing my waist.

I resisted the urge to purr. Barely.

My eyelids fluttered, another yawn hitting me. It was late. Or early, depending on your perspective. We'd dozed on and off, our naps interrupted by intermittent, grade-A fucking. I'd lost count of how many rounds we'd gone, orgasm after orgasm sliding together in a mindless blur. But while the sex had become a haze, the
after
, the postcoital cuddling, sharpened everything.

I didn't know what I'd expected exactly, just that it hadn't been this. He touched me the entire night—twisting my hair around his fingers, his hips against mine, a hand grazing my legs, waist, back, my face buried in the curve of his neck, his lips ghosting across my skin. His scent covered me.

The sex had been the best I'd ever had. The
after
was awe-inspiring.

You're in Vegas. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.

I repeated the words to myself over and over again, cloaking myself in them like a security blanket. I had no problem with no-strings-attached sex. Hell, sometimes I preferred it. But there were freaking strings everywhere I looked here.

Time to go.

I tipped my head up, pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

“I should let you get some sleep.” I made my mouth twist into a smile, ignoring the weird pounding in my chest and the confusion in my mind. “Thanks for the orgasms.”

I moved out of his grasp, rolling over to my side. My legs reached out to hit the floor, already mentally preparing for the walk of shame, when suddenly I was on my back again, a large, aroused body on top of me.

Gah.

I stared up into Noah's face, the satisfied, sleepy look in his eyes replaced by something a lot sharper that had a knot tightening in my stomach.

Definitely intense.

“So that's it?” His voice scraped over me.

The knot got bigger.

I shrugged, trying to be the girl who didn't make a big deal out of sex, the cool girl, the girl who wasn't lying here feeling like there was nowhere else she wanted to be. His eyes got flinty and I figured I failed.

Noah pulled back, my body going cold. I watched, my mouth dry, as he walked naked from the bed—spectacular back and ass on display. He grabbed a pair of exercise shorts from his suitcase, tugging them up over his hips, those freaking indents teasing me again, and my resolve to be cool-girl sort of went out the window as I tried not to drool.

We stared off against each other, the bed-of-many-orgasms between us.

I grabbed the sheet, tucking it under my arms, covering my body, ready to flee at any moment. I could tell he was pissed, or on his way to pissed, at least, but I wasn't sure how this would go. And I really didn't know what I wanted when I got there.

I swallowed and dug deep.

“What else is there? It was good. Really good. But you have to get back to the base for work, right? And I should probably check in with my sister.”

Noah's gaze narrowed, his tone silky. “Good?”

I rolled my eyes. I had a difficult enough time with the regular male prima donna attitude; my enthusiasm for fighter pilot prima donna attitude was pretty much nonexistent. It had been off-the-charts mind-blowing, and yeah, I was kind of being an asshole for ducking out—though legions of men had certainly done so before me—but that didn't mean I was in the mood to inflate his ego.

“I saw stars.”

My tone might have dripped with sarcasm, but I'd have been lying if I didn't admit that there was a kernel of truth to my words. And by the look that flared in his eyes, he definitely knew it.

His arms crossed over his chest, his stomach muscles rippling.

I was an idiot.

“You're freaked.”

He didn't bother posing it as a question; I figured the wide-eyed panic settling over my face said it all.

“I'm not freaked,” I sputtered.

So totally freaked.

His head snapped to the clock next to the bed. “So you normally flee hotel rooms at 4 a.m.?”

I sighed. He had me there. Time to give up.

“Look, I can appreciate that you aren't one of those guys who's a dick about a girl staying the night, but I'm also not the kind of girl who's going to be a clinger. Tonight was amazing, but haven't we sort of reached our natural conclusion here? Where's it going to go?”

Where can it go?

“Where do you want it to go?” he returned, his tone even, his gaze impossible to read.

“I don't know.”

That was the problem. I wasn't trying to be difficult; I really was that confused. He didn't fit into any box I'd come up with, and now I was coloring outside the lines, imagining all the possibilities of where this could go if I threw caution to the wind. And I was
really
good at throwing caution to the wind. Hence why it should be avoided at all costs.

“Do you want to know where I want this to go?” Noah asked, his voice going husky, his eyes soft.

I swallowed, my nipples tightening in anticipation because I just knew his answer was going to be really, really good.

“Maybe.”

I was pretty sure whatever answer he gave me, I wasn't prepared to hear it, even as I craved it. I was right on the edge, the desire to be reckless delivering a melody that called to me like a siren's song.

“I want you on your knees while I fuck your mouth. I want to feel your pussy tighten down on my cock when I'm filling you up. I want to sleep with my arm hooked around your waist. I want to kiss that mouth of yours—sweetest fucking thing I've ever tasted. I want more nights with you, and days, too.”

When he put it that way, I was pretty sure I fell off the fucking cliff.

“I want to make you come over and over again. Want to hear you scream my name. Want to play with your tits until you're writhing and moaning over my cock. If you want that, I'm game.”

I considered the fact that I refrained from fanning myself to be a testament to my willpower. I so did want that. All of it, over and over again, with a few moves of my own thrown in.

“You live in Oklahoma. I live in Florida,” I repeated slowly, as though saying the words would convince me of the insanity of all this.

He nodded. “Yeah. And I'll just be totally honest with you, my job doesn't leave a lot of time for dating. If we do this, we take it one day at a time. But this doesn't have to be good-bye.”

Part of me wanted that. Part of me was greedy for more nights with him. And part of me was thirty years old, already past the point when I'd thought I would have met
the guy
, and own
the house
, and have the two point five kids I was supposed to drive to piano lessons and soccer camp. I could literally feel the cobwebs gathering on my eggs, the reality that if I didn't meet
the guy
soon, I was slightly fucked.

I'd always figured I would date a guy for a year or two before we got engaged. And then a year for the engagement so we could enjoy it and plan the wedding and just revel in being in a committed relationship without having to endure fights about whose turn it was to take out the trash or why no one had changed the roll of toilet paper. And then I figured another three or four years of being married to do
married-people things before we added in a miniature person to take care of. And considering I wanted, like, three kids?

Way behind the power curve here.

I didn't really have time for a no-strings-attached fuckfest—however appealing it might be.

But the problem was, it wasn't just appealing, it was roll-your-tongue-off-the-floor earth-shattering. And maybe he wasn't the settle-down kind of guy, but it wasn't like I'd met a lot of that guy, either. And cobwebs or no, thirty was the new twenty, right?

And if he really was the dating Chupacabra . . .

“So this fuckfest you're proposing?”

He choked back laughter. “Fuckfest?”

“That's kind of what it sounds like.”

Noah's lips twitched. “Not going to say no to that.”

“Is this a monogamous-but-don't-expect-a-ring sort of arrangement?”

This time he didn't bother hiding his smile. “You're a little neurotic, aren't you?”

“Only in the fun way.”

His smile deepened. He moved toward the bed, his body hovering at the edge. “I wasn't planning on sharing. Or looking at anyone else.”

“So you're not going to fit the fighter pilot love-'em-and-leave-'em stereotype?” I teased.

He knelt on the bed, prowling toward me. “Babe, we gotta expand your knowledge beyond
Top Gun
.”

I leaned back, letting the sheet fall down to my waist, my breasts bare before him.

“So expand my fighter pilot knowledge.”

His smile went from playful to intent. “Is this another one of your conversation-foreplay sessions?”

I grinned, my eyelids fluttering, hair flipping, sliding into full-on flirt with ease.

“Maybe.”

He leaned over me, his big body hovering inches away, his mouth close enough that if I just leaned up, I could put my lips on his.

“I'm beginning to see how fun you could be in briefings, babe.”

Okay, maybe the uniform thing would be kind of hot.

I reached out, my fingers stroking his back, tracing the ridges of his spine all the way down to his spectacular ass. I tugged on the workout shorts, sliding them off over his hips. He made a growly sound in his throat that told me he liked it—a lot.

I leaned up, my lips grazing his ear, unable to resist the urge to let my tongue stroke his lobe. The shudder I felt against my hand at the base of his spine told me he liked that, too.

“So tell me fighter pilot things. Is there a password? A secret handshake?”

He slid down to his elbows, his chest pressing into mine, his cock settling into the curve of my hips, his hand pushing the sheets away until there was nothing between us.

“Cute.”

I ground my hips up toward him, feeling another rush of satisfaction as his body stiffened and jerked against me. He wasn't the only one who knew how to get what he wanted.

“Seriously. Teach me.”

He groaned. “You can't say things like ‘teach me' when you have your legs spread beneath me and expect to actually have a coherent conversation.”

“Am I distracting you?” I teased, sliding my hand between us, cupping his balls.

Another groan.

“Definitely distracting me.”

“Tell me fighter pilot things. I'm seriously disappointed if there isn't a secret handshake.”

He tilted his head to look at me, another smile tugging at his lips. “You have my dick in your hands and you're still busting my balls?”

“Pretty much.”

He sighed, as if resigned to his fate. “No secret handshake. Shit ton of traditions—songs, things we say, things we don't say, things we do, things we don't. It's its own code.”

I was beginning to figure that out, just like I was beginning to realize that he was definitely his own man. And I liked that a lot.

“Okay, give me an example of the lingo.”

I circled his cock, stroking and squeezing, loving the feel of him jerking against my palm.

He was silent for a moment and I wasn't sure if he was thinking of an answer or succumbing to the feel of my fingers working him over.

“Vocabulary.” He pushed the word out. “We don't say ‘box,' we say ‘container.' And we don't say ‘head,' we say ‘cranium.'”

I blinked, my hand stilling. “What?”

“We don't say ‘box.' We say ‘container' instead.”

“You just said ‘box.'”

“To explain it, yeah. But otherwise, no ‘box.'”

What?

“Why?”

“Think about it.”

I thought about it.

“Once again, why?”

He lifted himself up on his elbow again, his hand
reaching between us, his fingers stroking me much as I did to him, teasing my clit. “We don't say ‘box.'”

I took a second—probably because he was already stoking the fires of arousal within me—and then the totally juvenile, sexual joke hit me.

“You have got to be kidding.”

The last word came out with a squeak as his finger dipped lower, sliding into me with one smooth thrust. I tilted my hips up, wanting it deeper, and he gave it to me, plunging a second finger inside.

He flashed me a boyish grin, entirely too pleased with himself and still hot as fuck. “Nope.”

My eyes narrowed even as my breath hitched and he did a twisty thing with his fingers that had my head falling back.

“And cranium?” I ground out.

“We don't say ‘head.'”

I got that one a little faster, despite the fact that he'd definitely just hit my G-spot. “That is the dumbest fucking thing I've ever heard.”

“You going to lecture me on fighter pilot vocabulary, or are you going to come your brains out?”

I opened my mouth to give him a sassy retort, but then he hit that spot
again
, and a moan escaped instead.

His head came down, his lips brushing against mine as he whispered, “Definitely going to come again.”

He wasn't wrong.

NOAH

I woke early, a week of being on the day train with early brief times catching up with me.

Part of our job was dealing with the sheer unpredictability of our schedules. Some days I showed up at 3 a.m. and came home at 4 p.m. Other days I was in at noon and home at 2 a.m. It made getting on a consistent sleep schedule challenging, to say the least. So even though I'd barely slept all night, my hands, mouth, and cock full of Jordan, I was up now, lying on my side, my arm draped around her waist, watching her sleep. Watching her sleep and trying to get my shit together.