Mile High (Up In The Air #2)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

James woke me up with a light kiss on the forehead. I blinked awake, surprised to find him already dressed in clean riding clothes and leaning over me. He began to dress me without a word.

My riding clothes were much different this time. My tight pants were made up of a thin black material, not much thicker than tights, and reached just past my knees. I took note of the fact that he didn’t bother with putting any panties on me.

He worked snug, thigh-high black chaps onto each of my legs slowly. I touched the soft suede material, running my fingers over it.

He was arranging the chaps over my riding boots when he spoke. “The full chaps are normally worn with jeans. I’ll pack a pair, for the ride back.”


I digested his words, my mind going to dark, sensual places with it.

He pulled me to my feet, dragging my thin shift over my head in one smooth motion. He ran his tongue over his teeth as he studied my naked torso.

I had to stifle the urge to cover my bare breasts. Clearly, I was not as comfortable with casual nudity as Mr. Beautiful.

He zipped me into a thick sports bra, pulling a tight, thin shirt over my head.

He braided my hair, keeping his hands, disappointingly, to himself. I was still turned on at his every motion.

I closed my eyes as he spread sunblock over my face very carefully. The man thought of everything.

He slapped my ass, hard, when he finished. “Let’s go for a ride, Love,” he told me with a wicked smile, taking my hand.

The horses were saddled and ready when we got to the stables. It was the first time I got to see James’s stallion.

He introduced me to Devil by handing me an apple, and a warning. “Careful, he bites.”

I fed the huge beast carefully, admiring his exceptional coat. I ran my fingers over his blue-black mane.

His coat was a blueish gray color, so dark it shone in the sunlight like blue fire. His fur got much darker at his face, nose and feet, almost black-tipped. He seemed like a stallion out of a fairy tail, his coat too astonishingly colored to be real.

“He’s amazing,” I told James, running my hands along his smooth neck. Another horse butted my back from behind. I laughed when I saw that it was Princess.

“She’s jealous.” James wore an indulgent smile as he ran a hand along Princess’s neck.

I had thought she was an exceptionally tall horse, but she was almost short compared to Demon. I patted her, as well.

James handed me another apple to give to the friendly palomino.

Pete was nearby, but kept a careful distance. He had obviously been the one to saddle the horses for us, but was wise enough to stay away from his boss after the episode of the day before.

He had merely nodded politely as we had passed him in the stables.

I had nodded back with a small smile.

Nevertheless, James’s hand had tightened significantly at the small exchange.

Impossibly jealous man, I thought to myself, but kept my own council.

“Demon is a rare blue roan thoroughbred,” James told me, feeding a carrot to the oversized stallion.

“I didn’t even know that horses could be blue,” I told him with a sheepish smile. I really didn’t know a thing about horses, I was quickly realizing.

“Normally it’s just an expression for a bluish tinge to a horse. Demon is a truly unusual shade, though, almost more blue than gray.”

“An outrageously beautiful horse, for an outrageously beautiful man,” I told him with a smile.

He tugged on my braid, tilting my head back. His eyes were hot as they looked into mine. “Whatever keeps you around, Love,” he said, fitting a sleek black helmet carefully onto my head. I saw with no surprise that it exactly matched his own.

He worked black leather gloves onto my hands, patiently working them on, tightening them at the wrists.

“You know, I’m fully capable of dressing myself,” I told him, but I knew it was pointless. I knew that he loved to tend to me, no task too insignificant for his attention.

He just smiled in response, kissing my leather clad knuckles. He worked on his own gloves next, and I watched, transfixed, as he worked them onto his powerful hands. His fingers were long and elegant, but so very strong. I watched his tan hands disappear into the black leather, and flushed, remembering the feel of those gloved hands punishing me.

He saw my stare and gave me a wicked smile. “You remember these?”

I nodded, still watching, captivated, as he worked on the gloves. Even his hands were an obscenely tempting sight to me.

“I love your hands. So much.” My voice was already breathless.

He threw his head back and laughed. I was captivated by the sight. Even his smooth, golden throat was perfect, and I wanted to bury my face there.

I had to stifle the urge. He was obviously on a schedule this morning.

He gave me the warmest smile as his laughter faded.

He gave me a short, sweet kiss, and lifted me by the hips to mount the Princess. I mounted how I had been taught, swiftly trying to position myself into the seat correctly.

“Perfect,” he told me, unhooking the lead rope attached to Princess’s bridle and roping it over the fence post.

I felt a wonderful little thrill as I got to watch the amazing sight of James vaulting up onto Devil in one smooth motion. He was such an elegant man, but his strength was astounding. Muscles bunched under his tight shirt, his breeches snug enough to show the cut of his thigh muscles as he moved.

He passed me on his horse, pausing to finger my collar, apparent just above the neckline of my top.

“I should get a lead rope for this, as well,” he murmured, clicking his horse to go.

“Follow me,” he ordered, as he rode to the gate that Pete had just opened without a word.

I followed, Princess moving into a brisk walk with the slightest pressure of my heels.

He led me into the thick woods, the barest hint of a trail guiding our way.

I admired the scenery as we walked, trying to move with the horse and keep my seat nice and smooth. It was so peaceful and calm there. The trees covered us in cool shade, and it was early enough that the weather was perfect for a long ride.

The forest always made me feel that I had been transported to another world, another time. The solitude, the serenity, had my mind drifting into fantasyland. The pine trees were incredibly tall there, the foliage thick and little purple wild flowers dotted the ground whimsically.

It was almost jarring when we passed out of the thicker forest and onto a trail pronounced and wide enough to be a small road. James stopped there, waiting for me to reign in beside him.

He sent me a sidelong, wicked look. “How do you feel? Are you sore?”

I just shook my head. I sucked in a breath as he brought a gloved hand to the waist of his skin tight pants.

He laid his reigns on his horses neck, giving a firm command for Demon to stay. Then he proceeded to undo the thick buttons on his pants, folding them down and under his thick manhood. It jutted up proudly, already so thick and hard that my mouth watered at the sight. He shrugged out of his shirt in a smooth motion, tucking it into one of his chaps.

I just drank in the sight of his gleaming golden flesh, always amazed at his perfection. The muscles of his chiseled bronze abs were visibly working as he sat his horse. Somehow, his legs being covered, and being on horseback, made his nudity all the more obscene. And unbelievably hot.

He gave me his wicked grin, and I nearly melted. “Come here,” he ordered.

I obeyed, my horse sidling towards him eagerly.

He snatched me up, swinging me to straddle him in a seemingly easy motion. My eyes were on the hard play of muscles in his magnificent arms.

He perched me just in front of him, almost on Demon’s neck.

“Don’t move,” he ordered, pulling a rather large pocket knife from his boot. He worked me onto his thighs, until I was just inches from his jutting cock.

I sucked in a startled breath as he used the knife on the waistband of my pants, cutting towards himself.

He cut to a few inches above the saddle, putting the knife back in his boot. He ripped my pants the rest of the way off. The initial sound of ripping made Demon start, but James calmed him with a few soothing words, still ripping away, until I wore only the chaps. My sex looked profoundly bare and obscene, surrounded by black suede chaps and nothing else, my top half still completely covered.

James reached behind me, rearranging the reigns, untying them to make them longer, and wrapping them around his right arm. He was giving Demon free reign, controlling him with his legs, as he’d said he would teach me to do.

He used firm hands on my hips to lift me up and poised me on the tip of his erection. He touched my sex with only his cock, moving his hips in small circles to spread my growing moisture onto his eager tip.

I moaned, jerking my hips. I wanted him to impale me so badly, just a quick thrust to ease the ache.

He did, his head jerking back to look up at me, his jaw clenched at the excruciatingly tight fit. He thrust straight to the hilt, and I melted around him.

“Oh, James,” I cried out with feeling. Even with him full inside of me, I still ached. My hips jerked in a request for movement. James clicked, and Demon began to walk. James moved with him, an expert rider, each movement of his hips a little thrust inside of me. My legs almost dangled behind his, my body had submitted to him so completely.

We watched each other as he moved inside of me, the movements half thrusts that left me gasping for more.

“Do you want a posting trot, Bianca?” James asked, his voice a growl.

I thought of the exaggerated movements of a posting trot. Oh God, yes, I wanted tha t.

“Yes,” I moaned.

“Beg me for it,” he said, in a strangely calm voice. How was he not more winded?

“Please, Mr. Cavendish, bring us to a posting trot.”

He just tsk’d at me impatiently. “That was a sad excuse for begging, Bianca. Now you only get the sitting trot.” He clicked Demon into a trot, keeping his seat. He sat the trot so smoothly, it barely increased his thrusting from the walk.

I moaned at him in distress, gripping his shoulders now. I needed more. I needed the deep thrusting that I had so quickly grown addicted to.

Our eyes never strayed from each other, his intense turquoise gaze imprinting itself on me inexorably.

“I beg you, Mr. Cavendish,” I tried again. “Please, f*ck me at a posting trot. Please, please, please.”

His eyes smoldered at me, and he clicked the horse into the faster trot. “That is the tone I was looking for. Hold on, Love.”

He lifted me higher, his posting trot thrusting him into me with the longest, hardest strokes. I was close to screaming within seconds of the new rhythm.

“Come,” James growled, his eyelids heavy as he watched me. He impaled me hard and to the hilt as he spoke, and I fell apart in his arms. I was gasping, back in the ride again as he pulled out of me, dragging along each sensitive nerve. I was in a fever dream as he continued to thrust. I came again to his harsh command. And yet again, before he found his own rough release, shouting my name, his eyes going from hard and commanding to tender as the rapture took him.

He kissed me, still buried deep inside of me, as we floated back to reality, Demon slowing to an aimless walk.

I broke the spell several minutes later when I pulled back from his long kiss. “Have you ever done that before?”

His eyes shuttered, and I knew I wouldn’t like his answer. “Made love on horseback?” he asked.

My eyes narrowed, taking immediate exception to his wording. He seemed to me to be splitting hairs.

“F*cked someone on horseback,” I corrected.

He flushed, and my vision went a little red, knowing his answer. “I’ve f*cked a woman on horseback before, but it wasn’t like that. It was far more technical, almost clinical. It was more about seeing if it could be done, for me, than the actual doing. And I was barely an adult at the time.” He studied me, his eyes wide as he read the iciness that was blooming there. “Please don’t try to demean what we just shared.”


I heard his words as if at a distance, my mind suddenly recalling an appalling little detail I’d read in a tabloid, about James and Jules both coming from affluent English families who both shared a long history as avid equestrians.

“Was it her?” I asked in a whisper, my eyes narrowed.

He squeezed me more tightly against him, as if sensing a threat. He buried his face in my neck before he spoke. “Who are you referring to?”

I stiffened even more. “Jules,” I said, my voice going glacial.

I felt him sigh against me. “It was. But it didn’t mean anything. Please don’t use her to keep me at a distance.”

I tried to move off of him, but he had me at a severe disadvantage, and he wasn’t letting me go.

Instead, he clicked Demon back into a brisk walk.