body hair made on his skin. To memorize every scar. To hear all of the scar stories. And tell him hers, too. If he was interested.
She wanted to shock him, rock him, make him crazy with lust.
And laugh with him. Of all things. Stupid fantasy. Dream on.
Her only recourse was to keep her mouth shut, her eyes averted, and ignore him as much as possible. She kept her eyes fixed on the moonlit clouds outside the oval window. They had dimmed the lights in the forward cabin, and the curtain was pulled for privacy.
It would have been far better if it wasn’t. That drawn curtain gave her some very, very dangerous ideas.
She unfolded the blanket the airline had provided and swathed herself from neck to toe, determined to feign sleep. She had no intention at all of giving into it with so much to occupy her mind, but her tired body betrayed her.
She tipped straight into an uneasy dream.
She was wearing the red chemise Stengl had dressed her in, and searching desperately for something to wear, anything but that hateful scrap of limp red silk. She could find nothing. Even being naked would be better, but the chemise wouldn’t come off. The red silk stuck to her like a stain. She tore at her body until it was bleeding, and then suddenly, her body was no longer a woman’s body—it was a doll, brittle and fragile. Crack, she held a stiff leg with no joint, a high-heeled foot with painted red toenails like a storefront mannequin. Then the other leg broke off. She shattered from within, exploding in a shower of dusty shards.
Even broken into pieces, you are beautiful.
She knew that velvet voice. She recognized the strong hand sifting through broken shards, shreds of red silk until he found it. Her heart.
It looked like a cheap toy or a pincushion. Made of puffy red satin stuffed with fluff, trimmed with lace and tiny bows. He dusted it off and cradled it in his big hand. It transformed, glowing. Light shone right through his hands. It beat, it shone, it blazed through his fingers. Alive.
Heat glowed in her body, a deep, yearning throb, and she came back to consciousness very slowly and carefully, as if something inside her knew she’d be cheated of her prize if she rushed it. She drifted with majestic slowness, letting waves of pleasure intensify, rocking her higher until the crest broke and pulsed in long breaking waves.
Her eyes opened, amazed, to see the darkened cabin of the plane, the drawn curtain, the blanket under her chin. And Val, leaning over her, his eyes gleaming in the dimness. His hand, down the front of her jeans.
Oh. She’d bought the next jeans size up, since Rachel’s you-take-a-bite-and-then-I-take-a-bite game had put a little extra layer of meat on her ass, but she hadn’t filled out the new size entirely. There was plenty of room for his hand. His fingers rested on either side of her throbbing clit, catching it in a gentle, patient clasp…waiting to see what she thought of the situation now that she was awake.
She licked her lips, cleared her throat. What the hell did she think of it? She knew how her body felt about it, but that was not relevant. Her body had no vote in this. Her head had to prevail. She gathered her strength to be bitchy, shove him away. It was a tremendous effort.
“You sneaky bastard,” she whispered. “Is this your usual move? Wait until the woman is drugged or asleep, and then you make your move? You should be ashamed.”
He looked completely unembarrassed. “No, Tamar. Only with you. I must use every dirty trick I can devise, or I will get nowhere.”
“You’re a snake.” Her voice quivered, like her thighs.
“Sì, certo. I would do anything to feel you come again. Any desperate, wrong, immoral thing and feel no shame at all. Be warned.”
The low rasp of his voice caressed her, his coffee-scented breath tickled her ear. Her face glowed, hot as a coal. It made her think of the heart in her dream. Magically transformed.
The decision was making itself, the yearning heat in her body drowning out the fear, the doubts, the never again.
Oh, fuck it. Why never? Why not? Life was hard and short, and getting harder and shorter every day. And she wasn’t very talented at yielding to pleasure anyway, even if she was inclined to seek it out, which she wasn’t. It was now, or it was probably never again.
After all, she was trapped in a plane. She had nothing better to do. It wasn’t as if she was wasting precious time she could be using to solve her and Rachel’s problems. So why not?
Let the man multitask. He was so talented at it.
He teased her mound, caressing her with his fingertips without penetrating her. “If we had privacy and a bed, I’d strip off those jeans and put you on top of me,” he muttered into her ear. “I’d pull you down very slowly, letting your pussy accept me, a long, slow, tight glide, like a glove on my cazzo. Then I’d grab your hips and fuck you from below while I stared up at your breasts, bouncing above. Every inch of you flushed and hot with desire. Making all the noise you like.”
She licked her dry lips. “Were you aware that position is for the woman to control? That’s the whole point of it. Guess it never occurred to a prehistoric lunk like you.”
“You want control, Tamar?” His smile flashed in the dim light. “Fight me for it. I love the way you come around me when you lose.”
She had to struggle hard to muster her defenses. Particularly with his clever finger stroking tenderly just above the hood of her clit. A touch she could barely feel, and yet…oh. She could feel nothing else.
“I hate you,” she said distractedly. “You need a lesson.”
“You will be too tired to give me one when I am finished,” he said. “You’ll be so exhausted, you won’t even struggle when I tie you down, to lick your clit and tongue-fuck you into another orgasm. Then I’ll take you again. Watching every detail. The way my cazzo slides into you, those slick pink pussy lips kissing my whole length as I pull out…and push in, again and again, ah. The way you take all of me, every last centimeter, until the head of my cazzo is rammed up inside you, against the core of you, so tight, rocking and throbbing—”
“Stop it,” she whispered. “No more talk.”
“No?”
She held his gaze as she popped open the buttons on her jeans, and wiggled lower in the seat to give him more scope. She parted her legs, letting him deeper, and shoved his hand inside her jeans. “Get to work,” she said. “And make it good. Or you’ll pay for your teasing.”
He took her up on the invitation, sliding two fingers into her cleft. She was so, so juicy and swollen. She moved against him almost frantically, it felt so good, clamping her thighs around him.
Val curved his fingers into a gentle hook, circling tenderly over the glowing places inside her that were flushed with expectant pleasure while his thumb took care of her clit, doing a perfect little tremolo…ah, God, talk about multitasking.
He slapped the seat divider up and covered her mouth with his.
He was as talented with his mouth as he was with his hands, but it wasn’t his skill that stirred her. It was the look in his eyes. Not triumphant, or smug, or pleased with himself. Just quietly desperate.
She
