Mile High (Up In The Air #2)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

A little shriek escaped my lips as I felt cold metal grip one of my nipples firmly.

I felt James untying my blindfold, and suddenly I could see again. He had what looked like tiny smooth metal forceps holding my nipple captive. The end was a small hoop that fit perfectly around my hardened nipple. He reached into a drawer inside the table with his free hand, pulling out a marker. He bent close to my chest as he carefully marked my nipple on both sides.

His hands were covered in latex gloves that I hadn’t heard him put on, though he must have done so sometime since he had bound me to the table. His eyes were intent, studying the marks he’d made.

Finally, he put the pen away, pulling out a thick needle with a sharpened end. I could see that it was hollowed out in the middle, but I was still surprised at how big it was, how intimidatingly thick.

He smiled slightly as he saw my eyes widen as I studied the needle. “You ready to be pierced?” he asked, his voice wicked.

I studied him. He still wore his slacks, though the top button was undone. He was shirtless, and I could see my name in crimson over his heart. Somehow, I had almost forgotten about his new tattoos. The crimson lettering was startling and lovely against all of his golden skin.

He had his hair tied back, the first time I had seen him do that, so he could work on the piercing without his hair in his eyes. Some people were more beautiful with hair framing their faces, but it didn’t matter with James. He was exquisite even without all of that caramel hair falling artfully into his face. His face was just too perfect for it to affect his looks either way.

“You’re so beautiful,” I told him. I couldn’t seem to keep it in.

He sent me a very hot glance. He loved my admiration, I could tell. Even in this cold mood, he wasn’t immune. “You think flattery will distract me?”

I blinked at him. It wasn’t flattery. It was fact. “You’re magnificent.”

He didn’t respond, just pulled my nipple taut with the tongs, digging the thick needle into my skin. I held my breath, waiting for him to drive it in. I couldn’t seem to look away.

He surprised me when he pulled back, opening the drawer underneath me and dropping the needle and forceps inside. By the look on his face, he’d surprised himself.

He stripped off the latex gloves, tossing them aside. His eyes were on my breasts as he bent down to me, sucking on the abused nipples. He did it with singleminded focus, drawing on the flesh like his life depended on it.

I writhed beneath his ministrations, though my movements were hampered considerably. My head was bent forward as far as it would go and I watched him. His eyes were closed as he suckled there. His hands cupped my breasts from the sides, pushing them close together. He moved to my other breast, opening his eyes to gaze up at me, watching me as he very deliberately lapped at the flesh and then sucked so hard that a shudder went through my body, the sensation causing a shock of pleasure to shoot directly to my core.

He didn’t lift his head when he spoke, his breath punching at my skin, his eyes steady and heavy-lidded on mine. “I’m going to drink your milk like this when you breastfeed our children.” He bent down and began to suck again, drawing at it with hard suction, as though the large globes were already filled with milk. His words made my sex clench.

I told myself to reprimand him for saying something so outrageous. To imply that we would have children was stepping over a line, and saying that he would nurse on me like a babe, well, that was just wrong, but my body didn’t care. It thrived on any kinky thing that came out of his mouth.

He straightened. My hips were making little twisting motions even as he pulled away. He watched them, his eyes almost lazy, the lids were so heavy.

“I can’t pierce you yet. I won’t be able to suck on your nipples, or even play with them, while the piercings heal. That will take months. I just can’t bear to do it yet. Perhaps in a week or two.” He released my ankles as he spoke, and then my arms, swiftly releasing my cuffs. It always amazed me how quickly he untied my restraints, as though he’d been trained to do it. For all I knew, he had.

He cradled me against him. “Put your arms around my neck, Love,” he murmured, striding from the room.

Even his voice had changed. It had softened between one moment and the next. The tender lover was back. My James was back.

“I missed you,” I murmured against his sweaty chest.

He gazed down at me, and I could see real surprise in his eyes as he stepped into the elevator car. “I can’t shirk my duties to you, as your dom. I know what you need, Bianca. And I need you to know that no one else can give it to you like I can.” He punched the button, and we began to ascend as he spoke.

I wanted to respond, but he gripped my hair and leaned down to kiss me. It was a desperate kind of kiss, not altogether practiced. He ate at my mouth like he was starving for me, as though the distance he had put between us had affected him as well. He licked at my mouth, sucking at my injured bottom lip.

It hurt, but I didn’t mind hurting, and I kissed him back with all of the pent-up longing he had built in me over the cold evening. There was so much I wanted to tell him, about my feelings, about his, and I tried to put it into the kiss. I was much better at communicating my feelings to him in this manner.

The elevator stopped and he stepped off, still kissing me, as he strode to his beautiful bed. He laid me on it, pulling away to push his slacks off impatiently. It took the briefest moment, and he was back, arranging me in the middle of the bed.

He parted my legs wide, moving his hips between them, lowering his chest to mine. He was propped up slightly on his elbows, and he moved those elbows almost into my armpits so he could cup my face as he stared down at me.

His eyes were so tender and soft that an embarrassing tear slid down my cheek. His thumb caught it, and he pressed his thick arousal against my sex, pressing that first perfect inch inside of me. He entered me very slowly at first, though I was slick from arousal and the shared fluids from our last bout of f*cking.

“I missed you,” I told him again, and he groaned, moving into me more forcefully, but with the smoothest strokes.

“I’m glad,” he told me with the softest smile. “I’m relieved that you want more than just the dominant side of me.”

I wanted so badly right then to tell him that I loved him, but the words wouldn’t form past the lump in my throat. I kissed him instead, gripping my hands in his silky hair and pulling him down to me.

He seemed pleased with that, kissing me back with a moan. His thrusts increased into that steady pounding that he’d taught me to love, and I melted under him, an exquisite orgasm building inside of me. I cried out into his mouth as I came, and he joined me, his own cries just as loud, just as desperate, as mine had been.

“You’re mine,” he told me, but it was a tender admission that time.

He crushed me under him when we’d finished, as though he didn’t even have the energy to roll off of me, when he was the most inexhaustible of men.


I didn’t complain, even though it was a bit of a struggle to breath like that. But I liked his weight on top of me. I relished it. When he did finally roll off of me, it was only to lay plastered to my side, a heavy arm thrown over me.

We didn’t speak for long minutes, and I felt a sleepy fog invading my senses. But something was nagging at me, a persistent thought that I wanted to clear between us before exhaustion took me.

“Do you feel used by me?” I asked him suddenly.

He rose on an elbow to meet my eyes squarely. His studied mine, looking sad. It made me feel a little sad just to see it.

“I don’t,” he said after a long pause. “I worry that you don’t care for me, not like I care for you. I worry that you aren’t able to return my feelings. And I realize that, for the first time in my life, I would let you use me, however you wanted, if it came to that. If that’s all I could get from you, I would take it.”

I stroked his cheek, feeling an almost uncontrollable need to reassure him. “I do care for you. It scares me sometimes, the way I feel.” My voice was a whisper. It was all I could manage.

His eyes closed and he pressed his cheek into my hand, looking relieved but still almost anguished, all at once. It was hard to look at him, his face was so raw with emotions.

“Then live with me,” he said softly. “Be with me. Swear you’ll never leave me.”

I sighed heavily, but I knew him well enough to know that he couldn’t help but be so demanding. I’d given him a confession of sorts, and it was his first and strongest instinct to press forward and use it to his advantage. I had known, just known, that he would. When I gave, he took more, it was what both drew me to him, and terrified me about him.

“We need to be rational adults about this, James. Let’s start by trying to be together, trying to spend time together, when we can. I think that’s a good start. So, yes to the ‘be with you’ part. We’ll see on the rest.”

He arranged me against him for sleep, spooning me from behind, both of us lying on our sides how we slept. “Move in with me. We’ll be traveling so much that I’m not sure you’ll notice the difference, but say you’ll live with me. Just give me that much, and I’ll relent from pressing you for more, for the moment.”

Shockingly, his persistence actually just made me smile. That’s when I knew that I was well and truly sated. Or perhaps that was just an excuse for my sudden weakness. I made a conscious effort not to analyze it to death, and just thought about his request. What would it mean, to live together? It wasn’t a permanent step, right? I could always withdraw, if I panicked.

“I’m keeping my house. I worked my ass off for that house, and I’m keeping it,” I told him, shocked even as the words left my mouth, because I knew how he would take them, and it was, amazingly, actually how I meant them.

His arms squeezed me almost painfully from behind. “Of course. We can stay there when we’re in Las Vegas. Whatever you want. I’ll sell the other house in Vegas, if you prefer, though we should probably keep it for the stables, if you want to keep riding.”

I felt such a relief at my own acquiescence, at the world of relief that I heard in his voice and felt in his body, that it floored me. I had wanted this just as much as he had, I realized. I just hadn’t allowed myself to admit it.

“I do want to keep riding,” was all I said.

“Yes. Thank you, Bianca. You make me so happy. I never knew life could be like this,” he murmured into my hair. His voice was thick, as though with tears. I wasn’t brave enough to look back and see.

“So now you can’t propose, or do anything else crazy, since you said you’d relent if I agreed to live with you.”

He stiffened slightly as I spoke, and I was right there with him. My words had been a joke, because of course he wouldn’t propose, but they had made him tense up. That made me tense up.

“How long do I have to wait, then?” he asked, his tone earnest. “Give me a time frame, and I’ll respect it.”

The word ‘forever’ wanted to shoot out of my mouth, but I counted to ten, trying not to panic. “I can’t give you a time frame, James. I can’t even talk about it without having a panic attack. Let’s just enjoy the living together part, ok?”

He nuzzled against my hair, burrowing deep until he’d moved all the way into my neck. He kissed me there. “We’ll talk about it another time. I’ll give you time to grow accustomed to the idea.”

My exhausted body began to drift off, but not before I had the clear thought that he had somehow managed to get me to agree to one huge concession and still insisted on gaining some ground on yet another.

Impossible, dominant man.