Bellies full, we’re back in the car, riding along a dirt road in the middle of cornfields. I think it’s corn. The sun closes in on the horizon, and all I see is tall stalks of rippling green against the fading blue sky.
I rest my head on Trace’s shoulder. “Are we going to have sex in a field of corn?”
“No.”
“On a horse?”
“No.”
“In an abandoned shack with chainsaws and a musty mattress?”
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “That’s a negative.”
“But we’re going to have sex. Just tell me where and how soon.”
“Look out the windshield.”
I lean forward and spot something huge and colorful flapping in the distance. “What is that?”
The car draws closer, bumping on the uneven road and jolting my excitement. As the ginormous object grows and lifts from the field, it takes on a round, recognizable shape.
“Get the fuck out!” I gasp as a hot air balloon blooms from a basket tied to the ground. “We’re doing that?”
“We’re doing that.” He watches me with amusement.
I stare back at him, grinning. “Look at you, all sweet and melty, like a mushy-gushy cookie.”
He grimaces. “Let’s not blow this out of proportion.”
I turn back to the balloon. “This is epic proportions, Trace. Huge gold stars for you, the kind that earn you blow jobs for days.”
“I just want you.” He grips my knee. “You for an eternity.”
“Done.”
When we exit the car, a middle-aged, tattooed woman with a pixie haircut strides across the field. “Mr. Savoy?”
“You must be Lori,” he says.
They shake hands, and he introduces me.
“I’ll be your pilot tonight.” She tips her head back, smiling skyward. “What a beautiful night to fly. The thermals are ideal. We should drift along at an even speed without any turbulence. There’s champagne in the basket. Feel free to board. We’ll depart in a minute.”
And that’s how I find myself floating into a happily-ever-after sunset with the gorgeous, swoonable man of my dreams.
Except that man is Trace, and beneath the illusion of sweet romance lurks sinful intent and depravity.
Two-thousand feet in the air, I grip the handrail of the five-person basket, lost in the glowing curvature of the earth and the warm gentle wind lifting my hair.
That’s the moment he attacks. My skirt goes up, and a forceful hand presses against my tailbone, immobilizing me against the interior wall of the basket. My gasp cuts off as he kicks my feet apart and drives a flesh-pounding palm against my exposed butt.
“Trace!” My lungs heave, and my backside catches fire. “Stop!”
He spanks me repeatedly, harder, faster, grunting with heavy breaths. I don’t know which cheeks are redder—my ass beneath his strikes or my face, because holy shit, we’re not alone in this basket. Lori is right behind us, piloting the burner.
I lift on my toes, fighting against the hand that pins me to the railing. But with every bone-jolting smack, my embarrassment begins to give way to heart-thudding anticipation.
The breathy noises coming from him isn’t exertion. He’s worked up. Three-weeks-without-sex worked up. All that control he exhibited on the way here is unraveling by the second, and when the tethers finally snap, his pent-up tension will be directed at me, on me, deep inside me two-thousand feet in the air.
Like a switch flipping inside me, the smarting pain crashes into a tendril of smoldering lava, seeping into my veins and liquefying my bones. I droop over the railing with my head hanging out of the basket.
The spanking stops. The hand on my back tightens, fisting the gathered material of my dress and yanking me back.
I look over my shoulder just as he lowers to his knees behind me and plunges his tongue between my legs. I get a half-second glimpse of Lori—with her back to us and bulky headphones on her ears—before blinding sparks of pleasure blot my vision.
The swirl of his tongue steals my breath and quivers my legs. I swallow without air, clawing at the wicker braiding of the basket and sinking against the pressure of his mouth.
God, he knows how to eat pussy. There’s no gentle lapping or prudent licks. He gets in there, burying his face, working his jaw, and fucking me deeply with his tongue. Then his fingers join in, stirring the rim of my opening and gathering moisture. He slides his touch an inch back, and another inch, breaching the pucker of my rear hole.
“Did he fuck you here?”
The deep rasp of his voice swivels my head, and I come face to face with searing blue eyes. Sweet mercy, he’s gorgeous, with his lips separated and swollen, the cords in his neck taut, and his bedroom eyes hooded with desire.
“Can she hear us?” I glance at the back of Lori’s head and return to him.
“No.” He bites the inside of my thigh. “We have ten minutes before she turns off the music.”
Given the shortness of his breaths and the sharpening intensity in his expression, we’ll only need a fraction of that time.
He presses his wet finger against my rectum. “Answer my question.”
“Yes.” My jaw flexes. “He fucked me there.” A lot.
His nostrils flare, and his finger sinks past the tight clamp of muscle, slowly at first, then fuck! He penetrates me with ruthless thrusts. His mouth lowers to my pussy, and all I can do is hold on as he sucks and laves and rips moans from my throat.
My eyes roll back in my head, and my chest drops to the railing as my entire body dissolves into trembling bliss.
The finger in my ass curls at the perfect angle, applying exquisite pressure. The orgasm sneaks up and slams into me instantly, shockingly, violently.
I’m still coming as he surges to his feet, fumbles with his zipper, and pulls me back against his chest.
“Eyes on the horizon,” he breathes at my ear.
I slump against him and stare forward. When his hand collars my throat and clenches, I shiver all over.
His dominance pushes all my buttons and sweeps the ground from beneath my feet. Every action he takes demonstrates exactly how much effort and energy he’s willing to invest in me.
It’s a trait I greatly appreciate after all the unassertive guys I’ve been with. How do you want me to fuck you? I don’t know. How about you just take control without asking? Okay, maybe I’ll just lie here and do nothing while you suck my dick.
With Trace, everything is on his terms, premeditated and carefully designed. The headphones on the pilot gives us privacy. The teasing on the way here ensured I’d be primed for multiple orgasms within the ten-minute time frame.
He’s overbearingly controlling, but it makes me feel safe, protected. I love that he’s such a prominent man—physically powerful and socially influential. No one would ever fuck with me. That’s why I crave the power restraining my airway, controlling my movements, and pressing, hard and hot, against my pussy.
I’m sloppy wet, so when he drives his hips, his cock slides right in. But it’s tight, and the stretch is incredible. With a deep groan, he buries himself to the hilt, strangling a gasp in my throat.