In Flight (Up In The Air #1)

CHAPTER SEVEN

Mr. Moody

The sound of my alarm woke me from a deep sleep. I never slept that hard, and coming out of it was something I was unaccustomed to. I knew instantly that it was gonna be a rough morning by the pounding in my temples.

The clock showed five a.m, but my body still thought it was two a.m. A twenty-four hour layover was never enough time to adjust to the time difference.

I wasn’t surprised to find that James had left, though I was strangely disappointed.

Since there were no longer any lingering effects of alcohol buzzing through my system, I knew I had a problem. I was starting to like that kinky rich bastard.

I went directly into the shower, pinning my hair up and keeping it carefully dry. There was no way I’d have time to dry it if I washed it.

I threw my shift back on my slightly damp skin, planning to wear it until it was time to change into work clothes. I was so used to sharing adjoining rooms with Stephan that it was just second nature for me to stay at least partially decent while I got ready.

My bathroom door was slightly ajar, so when my hotel room door clicked open and then closed, I froze in alarm. I peaked out of the door, both surprised and relieved to see that it was James.

He joined me in the bathroom without asking. Even Stephan wasn’t so familiar with me, so it caught me off guard that he would join me so casually in the bathroom right after I’d showered.

He handed me a cup of coffee and two white tablets. He set two bottles of water on the counter.

“The pills are for the hangover,” he told me. “And the water will help. You’re dehydrated.”

I took the pills, downing most of the first bottle in the process. A long drink of the coffee and I felt nearly human again.

I saw that he had changed his clothes. He was back in a suit, looking fresh and well rested.

“You went back to your place?” I knew little about him, but I did know that he lived primarily in New York. My eyes were on his impeccable suit. It was a soft gray, his shirt and tie blue today. I’d never gotten a chance to get a good look at him without his clothes on. Dammit.

As I looked at him, my eyes moved up to his in the mirror. We were both facing it, and his lovely turquoise eyes were glued to my body with an intensity that made my eyes follow his.

My thin shift, combined with my slightly damp skin, had, not surprisingly, made my nightgown transparent. I might as well be naked, I thought, a little stunned.

And he was drinking in the sight of me hungrily, as though he’d never seen anything so appetizing in his life. It was an intoxicating feeling, to put that look in his eyes.

He stepped in directly behind me, his eyes steadily on my chest. My breasts felt heavy and I wanted him to touch them so badly.

I unconsciously arched my back a little, my shoulders going back, my chest forward, my nipples clearly visible as they rubbed against the thin fabric of my shift. They were pebbled to hardness, and tightened even more as I watched them.


“I don’t want to make you late for work,” he murmured. “But I need to do something.”

He pressed up against my back, his arousal hard and heavy against my tailbone. His hands covered my breasts, finally, and I moaned, arching back. He kneaded them firmly and my eyes fell closed.

“Look at me,” he snapped, and I obeyed automatically, meeting his intense eyes in the mirror.

“I like this nightgown,” he said almost absently, as he continued to touch me. “Spread your legs more,” he told me, and they just shifted apart, as though my body and his mouth had some sort of agreement that I wasn’t yet privy to.

One hand stayed kneading my breast, and plucking at my nipple just perfectly while the other ran along my ribs, down my abdomen, and straight between my legs.

They started to shut instinctively against the invasion.

“Open wider,” he ordered, and they just did. “I want to pleasure every inch of you, but for the moment, I’m just going to make you come. I just need to touch you. Lay your head back against my shoulder.”

He quickly found and rubbed my *oris with his thumb while his index and middle finger played at my entrance almost teasingly.

He sucked in a breath as he felt me. “God, a f*cking wet virgin. You are too much, Bianca.”

He pushed one finger into me slowly, and groaned. The fit was excruciatingly tight. I masturbated sometimes with my own fingers, but his were just so much bigger and rougher, and more talented. He knew how to touch me with far more skill than I knew how to touch myself. The thought was a little daunting, but my mind quickly wandered back to the sensations at hand.

He worked his finger all the way in and began to stroke, his finger seeking out just the right spot inside of me. His thumb never stopped circling my *, and his other hand still kneaded my tender breast with consummate skill. He was a hell of a multi-tasker.

As he stroked, his arousal brushed against my back with increasing pressure. He slipped a second finger in and I felt impossibly full. I cried out, grinding against him.

He stopped suddenly. “Ask me for it,” he ordered, and I didn’t mistake his meaning.

“Please.” I didn’t hesitate.

“Say, please, Mr. Cavendish, make me come.”

“Please, Mr. Cavendish, make me come.”

He pinched my nipple hard as he stroked that perfect spot harder. I came in seconds, before I even really knew it was happening.

I hadn’t realized that an orgasm could be like that, erupting so swiftly. Or so powerfully. I felt like I may have lost myself for a moment.

We were both panting heavily as I came back to myself. He caught my gaze in the mirror as he shifted his fingers out of me. I watched, absolutely mesmerized, as he raised them to his mouth and licked them clean.

When he finished, he grabbed my chin and turned my head to his for a deep kiss. “You are the most perfect f*cking thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” he murmured against my mouth.

I tried to reach for his still heavy arousal. He caught my hand, knowing where it was headed. “There’s no time. Get dressed.” He sounded almost angry now.

He was apparently frustrated and moody about it.

I got dressed in record time, in my little dress suit that was designed to look like a mock man’s suit, little tie and all.

James watched me the entire time, not giving me a second of privacy. I was in too much of a hurry to worry about it.

“That is the hottest f*cking flight attendant uniform I’ve ever seen. That thing should be illegal. I’m going to do some illegal things to you with that little tease of a tie,” he said, his tone serious. I just laughed.

“I can do my hair and makeup in the van. Stephan will help me.” I licked my lower lip and waved a hand at his still obviously heavy arousal. “I still have ten minutes to spare. There has to be something I can do for you. I don’t like feeling like I’ve left you unsatisfied.”

He smiled at me, and it was pained. “You are too perfect. But it’s not happening this morning. I’m not coming again until I can be buried inside of you. Preferably for days.”

I took a step closer to him, licking my lips again. Impulsively, I knelt in front of him.

“You could bury yourself somewhere else,” I said, my voice turning breathy.

My face hovered just inches from his groin, but I checked the urge to touch him, just looking up at him instead.

He gripped my hair a little roughly. “Have you done that before?” he asked, his voice unsteady.

I shook my head, licking my lips again. “Like I’ve told you, I don’t date. I don’t do any of this stuff. I don’t know what’s gotten into me, but you should take me up on the offer before I change my mind.”

He had his slacks unbuttoned and his arousal out so fast that I blinked at the sight of him. He was..spectacular. And right in my face.

It was no hardship at all to take him into my mouth and start sucking on him hungrily. Just the opposite. I’d never wanted something so much in my life. Though I couldn’t fit much more than the tip past my teeth.

“Use your hands at the base,” he told me. He used his hands to show me. He used the moisture that my mouth had spread on the tip and the shaft to lubricate my hands. He coached them into a twisting motion at the base.

“Harder,” he ordered. “Pull your lips over your teeth and suck harder,” he gasped. “Yes, that’s perfect, Bianca.”

“I’m coming,” he warned me several intoxicating moments later. Both of his hands were gripped in my hair tightly. “If you don’t want me to come in your mouth, you should pull back now.” His voice was absolutely raw with his need, and I loved it. I could get addicted to this feeling. To this act.

Instead of pulling back, I sucked harder, swallowing instinctively when the warm essence of him shot against the back of my throat.

He pulled me up and kissed me. His hands were rough in my hair, almost to the point of pain, but, caught up in the moment, I loved it.

He finally set me down, glancing at the clock. “You’re late. We’ll talk later. I don’t want you to get into trouble. I’ve seen how important your work ethic is to you.”

I just nodded, in full rush mode.

I grabbed my bags and my half-empty cup of coffee on the way out, not saying goodbye. Frankly, I just didn’t know what to say. I’d never done such intimate things in my entire life, and I’d never even agreed to give Mr. Beautiful my phone number.

It was like I wasn’t myself anymore, once I got into his orbit. He just took over. And so far, I was batting zero at resisting him. When he touched me, I lost all control, and he took all of it, and it just felt so good to let go. In fact, it felt more than good. It felt so perfect to me that I didn’t even know how to resist.