Mile High (Up In The Air #2)

CHAPTER NINETEEN

We were heading back to Vegas in way too short a time. So much had happened in our short reprieve.

James had weakened my resolve to keep my distance in that way he had, with his persistence and his willpower. He was not a man to be deterred. And for whatever reason, he seemed resolute in his desire to be with me. And wanting me for something more permanent than I’d ever thought he would even consider. Living together didn’t terrify me, as marriage did, but I couldn’t say that I was even approaching comfortable with it.

We were both quiet for the drive, and then the flight. I didn’t mind. I had a lot to think about, and James seemed lost in his own thoughts, not even getting his laptop out to get some work done on the flight.

“We’ll stay at your house tonight,” James said, as we touched down in Vegas. It was the first thing he’d said in an hour. I studied him. He seemed a little distant, a little sad.

“I’m having some work done on my place,” he explained. “I’ll finally give you a tour of the property sometime next week.”

I just nodded, but he hadn’t been asking me a question.

We went to bed early that night. James could see that I was exhausted from the riding and the traveling, and oh yeah, the phenomenal f*cking.

He did his kinky little exam of my body. It had become a habit of his. I felt well enough, mostly tired, and a little sore, but he insisted on checking every inch of me. He softly kissed shadow bruises still on my ribs and back, the abrasions on my wrists and ankles, and even turned me around to check my butt, for soreness from the saddle. He studied my sex last, his eyes heavy-lidded as he touched me ever so gently, fingers sifting through my folds.

“You’ve got to be the kinkiest wannabe doctor on the planet,” I told him with a half smile.

His mouth turned up faintly at the corners. He took it as a challenge. The comment seemed to inspire him to be kinkier.

He’d brought a glass of ice water into the room, and he grabbed it from the beside table, taking a long drink. One of his hands still held my inner thigh, keeping my legs pushed wide apart and my body pinned to my spot right at the edge of the mattress.

He bent, burying his face between my legs. I gasped as he pushed an ice cube inside of me with his clever tongue. He lapped at me like a cat for a moment before straightening again. He took another long drink, repeating the process. My hands fisted in his silky hair, begging him silently for release, but he took his time. He stroked me, and licked me, and sat back, just to look at me, again and again. He pushed a finger into me, thrusting, but I wanted more.

“Please, James, I want you inside of me.”

He bit the bottom lip of that pretty mouth, but didn’t respond, just kept up the process.

I was shivering, chills wracking me from both desire and the delectable feeling of cold ice inside of me.

He had shoved five cubes in deep.

He took another ice cube and began to run it along my belly, circling my navel in almost lazy motions.

Next he ran the ice up along my ribs, then traced my sternum. My nipples were already pebbled long before he’d payed them any personal attention. I shivered and shuddered as he finally circled a quivering nipple.

The ice wasn’t the only cold thing he’d brought into the bedroom with us, I realized after endless minutes of his teasing. His very demeanor was cold tonight, his eyes icy as he worked on me slowly, torturously.

“Am I being punished?” I asked him finally, when he held back from letting me come, pulling his busy fingers out of me just short of release.

He smiled, and even the smile was cold. “Not exactly. This is only a lesson, Bianca. I’m doing this to you for one simple reason. Because I can. This is what it means to be my submissive.”

I writhed at that, his calculated actions bringing out a shivering fear that, perversely, made me want him even more.

“Will you be f*cking me tonight? Or is this all a tease? Because you can?”

In answer, he buried his face between my legs again, his tongue circling my *, his fingers going back to work inside of me. I felt the ice cubes clink together, and I moaned, right on the edge of orgasm. He straightened, leaving me bereft.

He stood, stripping out of his boxer briefs in one smooth motion. He was hard. At this point, I would have been more shocked if he wasn’t. He stroked himself, looking down at me with that hard, stony expression. I bit my lip as I watched him stroke himself, once, twice. I was sobbing on his third stroke, drawing my legs up to my chest, wanting to touch myself, anything to ease the ache that the ice inside of me only antagonized. I pushed my legs down, lifting my hips into the air in a silent plea.

He stopped abruptly. “No,” he finally answered. “I’m punishing myself tonight, so I won’t be f*cking you. Only you get to come tonight.”

He bent down, and began the torture all over again. He’d said I could come, but he hadn’t said when, and he left me wanting for long minutes that felt like hours.

The first ice had melted, with new cubes replacing it, before he finally sucked me into a climax so hard that I sobbed out his name at the end, tears running down my cheeks.

He tried to hold me afterwards, and I turned away, trying to roll out of his reach. But my bed wasn’t that big, and he was determined. He swatted my butt for the effort.

“Don’t turn away from me,” he said in a hard voice, pulling my back against him.

I tried to fall asleep, but he began to touch me again, kneading my breasts until I was arching my back, brushing my backside against his stiff length.

“You can take me there,” I told him, brushing my backside against him again. I hated that he was denying himself, whatever the reason.

He purred against me. “No release for me, not tonight. I keep pushing you too hard, even though you’re injured and unaccustomed to this. I need a torturous night to reflect on my sins. Keep teasing me. I deserve it.”

I stopped rubbing my butt against him, not willing to help him in that regard. He bit my neck, one hand snaking down to stroke my sex. “You don’t want me to suffer, Love? You don’t agree with the punishment I’ve chosen for myself?”

“No,” I said on a gasp.

He plunged his large fingers into me, starting up an exquisite rhythm.

“I want to bring you pleasure, not punishment,” I told him.

He grunted. “Well, it’s not up to you, is it?” he asked, his fingers quickening, bringing me to orgasm quickly this time, a stark contrast to what he’d done to me the first time.

He kept his fingers inside of me, a hand gripping my breast, and his stiff erection still pressed firmly against my butt.

“Go to sleep, love,” he whispered harshly in my ear.

I was so exhausted that I actually did.

James woke me in the morning in much the way he’d put me to bed, his hand stroking me, his other kneading at my breast. He was sucking on that perfect spot on my neck, his rigid cock grinding against my butt in rhythm to his fingers.

“Are you awake?” he asked into my ear.

“Yes. Please, I need you inside me. Please don’t deprive yourself again.” I arched my back as I spoke.

He shifted me onto my back, but stayed on his side. He dragged me around until my wet entrance was pointed at his stiff member, throwing my legs over his hip. My head was nearly hanging off the side of the bed.

One of his arms was used to prop him up, but his other hand was free to roam over my body. He lingered on my breasts, plucking at my nipples.

“I’m going to have special rings designed for these,” he said, and rammed into me.

I didn’t have a chance to ask him what he meant. I was too busy gasping as he began a jolting rhythm, still pulling on my breasts.

“I’ll make them match your collar and your earrings. I want you dripping in diamonds. I’ll decorate all of your chains with them. Before I’m done with you, every part of your body will be stamped with my ownership.”

My hands fisted in the sheets. It was all I could reach in this position. I used my legs to move with his thrusts, and he groaned in approval.

He had us both coming in swift moments, impatient from his night of torture.

“Did you get any sleep last night?” I asked him as we lay panting, spent.

“A little. Though every time I drifted off, I woke up trying to violate you in your sleep. I need to rethink that punishment, I think.”

I shifted until I could kiss him. It was a long, sweet kiss. He was surprisingly passive for it, as if he was curious to see what I would do.

I pulled back, touching his cheek. I knew my tenderness showed in my eyes. “Get a little more sleep.

Please? At least rest while I go try to scrounge up breakfast.”

He must have been exhausted, because he nodded, closing his eyes. He didn’t open them as he raised my hand to his lips, kissing it softly.

I rose, pulling a sheet over him, and impulsively kissing his forehead before throwing on my tiny, nearly transparent shift. I grabbed a thong from my drawer full of the lacy things, even knowing I would be changing again soon, since I needed to shower after breakfast.

I padded into the kitchen, getting out anything I could find that went well with eggs. I cursed when I heard the loud sound of the garbage truck driving down my little street. I had already forgotten to put out my trash can the week before. I really needed to get it out to the curb before the truck passed my house.

I wouldn’t normally go out front in my tiny slip of a nightgown, but I didn’t have a spare moment to change.

Besides, I’ll be quick. I told myself. I just needed to drag my one full garbage can out of the garage and onto the curb, then dart back in. And this was Vegas. See-through clothing was hardly unheard of, even in public.


I moved into the garage, punching the button to open my garage door. I was already dragging the can underneath the door when it was only halfway up. I was relieved to see that the garbage truck was a few houses away. I had made it in time.

I didn’t notice the strange man blatantly photographing me until I was at the curb, lining up my garbage can.

I saw him, and just froze while he took shot after shot of me.

I wasn’t galvanized into action until he looked up from the large camera, leering at me. “Thank you, Ms.

Karlsson. Looking hot this morning.”

He was a paunchy man, in his late forties, I guessed. Just the look on his face made my stomach churn. I was turning to rush back into the house when all hell broke loose.

A large man in a suit grabbed the greasy photographer, handling him roughly at the same time that the garage door into the kitchen burst open, a frantic, boxer clad James sprinting out. I heard clicks behind me, the photographer somehow managing to get a few shots of James, even while being restrained by a man much larger than himself. It was almost impressive.

I watched James’s face as he took in the mess, watched it change from frantic to livid in a heartbeat. He looked like he wanted to murder the man as he strode to me, glaring at the paparazzi the entire time. He stepped in front of me, blocking me from view.

“Get inside,” he said through gritted teeth.

I had seen his face. I couldn’t imagine, from his look, that he didn’t plan to do the man violence.

“Come inside with me, please,” I pleaded with him, my voice pitched low.

“Go, Bianca. Now.”

I hugged his back, not wanting him to get into trouble for some scumbag photographer.

“You look like you’re going to attack him, James. I don’t want you to go to jail.” Even as I spoke, I heard a few more clicks from that damn camera. The man was fearless.

“I would rather f*cking go to jail than let him leave with those pictures of you. Now go inside.”

“Your man over there can handle it,” I said, my cheek against his back. “And who will protect me, if you’re in jail? Would it be worth it, if something happened to me while you were gone?” I felt horrible saying it, and I knew it wasn’t even a sound argument, but I was desperate to get him to walk away, and I thought it would at least get his attention. Some scandalous pictures of me were not my biggest concern.

He shuddered, and I felt a rush of relief. He turned into me, still using his body to block me from view, and ushered me back into the garage.

“Get those f*cking pictures off of his camera, Stimpson, or it’s your f*cking job!” James barked over his shoulder, not slowing.

“What the f*ck were you thinking?” James burst out the second he’d shut the door from the garage into my kitchen. “Do you like giving the world a f*cking show?”

I stiffened at his words, raised nearly to a rage-filled shout. I didn’t respond, raising my chin and walking woodenly through my house and into my bathroom.

If he was going to take his anger out on me in a way I couldn’t handle, I supposed it was better that I find out sooner rather than later. I tried to stay calm, but my whole body was shaking as I waited to see what he’d do next.

I tossed off my scanty clothes before stepping into the shower, turning it on, the cold spray hitting me for several seconds before it began to warm.

I just stood under the spray, unmoving, for several minutes. It was a long time before James joined me.

I felt him more than saw him, since my eyes were closed.

He hugged me very carefully from behind. My first instinct was to pull away, but I let him hold me. I could feel him trembling, and the thought of hurting him, when he was as vulnerable as I, was abhorrent to me.

“I’m so sorry, love. Of course you were just taking out your trash, like a normal person. I shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you. I’m sorry I raised my voice. I would never put my hands on you in anger. Whatever demons I may have, I don’t have that in me. But I saw that scared look on your face when I raised my voice. I hate myself for putting it there.”

I didn’t say anything, but I didn’t push him away, either.

He washed me, his touch gentle. “Will you come to the hotel with me today? You can do a spa day while I get a few things done.” As he spoke, he lathered my hair.

I sighed, feeling weak from the morning’s drama.

Why not do a spa day? I asked myself, seriously considering the idea. I never got to do things like that.

I didn’t have to work until evening, and James would spend ridiculous amounts of money on me, spa day or not. It was really a drop in the bucket at this point.

“You can invite anyone you want. They’ll give you the royal treatment, as well as any of your friends.

Just invite Stephan, and tell him to get the word out. You could have a flight attendant reunion at the spa, if you want. My resort has one of the best in town.”

I caved at the plea in his voice. He was like a child, grasping for a way to make amends.

“Okay,” I finally said. I sounded like a brat to my own ears. “Thank you, James. That’s considerate.

You’re considerate.”

Wet lips kissed my cheek almost sloppily. It was so unlike him that I let out a little giggle.

“Thank you. Nothing makes me happier than taking care of you, in any way that I can.” His voice was a raw whisper against my skin.

I turned and hugged him, his vulnerability almost palpable to me at that moment.

“You make me so happy, Bianca. I was just angry with myself, that I’d failed to protect you, yet again.”

“Oh, James. What am I going to do with you? A few stupid pictures aren’t going to hurt me.”

“When I heard the garage door opening, my heart stopped. Just the thought of you being outside by yourself, when your father is still on the loose, makes me panicky.”

“I obviously wasn’t alone, with that bodyguard out there. Seems to me like you had your bases covered.”

He stiffened up at that. “What took him so f*cking long to react? That’s what I want to know.”

I kissed the center of his chest, right in that little indent between his well muscled pectorals. I loved that spot.

I filled my palm with shampoo, reaching up high to lather his honey-colored hair. I smiled at him as the motion dragged my chest against his. He bent down to give me better access, leaning his forehead onto my shoulder. I washed him as he had washed me. It was the first time he’d allowed me to tend to him as tenderly as he so often did to me. “Do you mind me touching you like this? Is that why you avoid letting me do this to you, usually?”

He shook his head, his eyes closed. His voice was a rasp in my ear. “Not you. I love any touch from you. It feels caring, and I want that. I want so much for you to care for me.”

My heart hurt a little at his words. I wanted to reassure him, but the words were a lump in my throat.

He just hugged me tightly, not pressing me for the words. If he had wanted a woman who could express her feelings easily, I supposed he wouldn’t have chosen me.

“Move in with me.” His words were quiet but heartfelt.

I sighed. He was an undeniable force. A few short days, and it was nearly impossible to tell him no.

“How about this? We’ll spend more time together. If we’re in the same city, we’ll have sleepovers, just like we’ve done the last few days.”

He just about squeezed the breath out of me. “Thank you,” he rasped, and began to kiss me. His hands were everywhere, his mouth hot, as he backed me against the shower wall. When he felt my hot center and found it wet, he lifted me against him, impaling me brutally.

“Tell me if you’re sore,” he said roughly.

He leaned my back against the tiled wall and began to thrust.

I was sore, deliciously sore, but I wouldn’t have told him so for anything. Then he might have stopped the heavenly orgasm that built as he pounded into me. I watched his lovely face, as he had taught me, as he moved, my hands grasping his shoulders. His face was wet, his golden skin so perfect. I thought he looked like an angel, with his wet hair trailing into his face.

“You’re so beautiful,” I told him quietly, but he still heard me over the spray.

He clearly enjoyed my admiration, his body shuddering in preparation for his climax. I felt him shuddering down to my toes, and it tipped me over the edge.

I cupped his cheek as we came together. It was so intimate that it should have made me cold, or uncomfortable, or even repulsed, but it didn’t. More and more, I was craving this intimacy, not running from it.