Up In The Air: In Flight Part 4

"Hey, Bianca," she called back.

"The security here is deplorable," James said as the elevator doors closed on us. He was shaking his head in dismay.

I giggled. "What did you expect? It's a crew hotel in downtown manhattan. The security isn't deplorable. It's non-existant." I giggled harder. Rich people could be funny.

He gave me a disgruntled look. "It's terrifying. Anyone could come in here."

I just kept giggling. "That's what locks and police are for. If you think this is bad, you should see some of the places Stephan and I have stayed." Oh s.h.i.t. I hadn't meant to say that out loud.

His intent eyes searched my face. "Where? What do you mean? Do you still stay in those places?"

I shrugged, trying to blow past the whole thing. "Um, not really. I guess this is our least secure crew hotel at the moment." The thought made me start giggling again.

He held a hand out for my key card, and I gave it to him without a word.

"I would prefer if you stay at a more secure place when you visit the city. I'll arrange it," he said, shocking me.

I shook my head. "No. No. No," I told him clearly. "I don't know what you think is going on here, but you are not going to take control of my life. You can just rule out that scenario right now."

His mouth set in a hard line. "We'll talk about it when you're sober."

He was crazy, I decided. "You can talk all you want. That is not happening."

He noticed the open connecting door as we entered my room. He gave me a questioning look, going through the door, as though he had the right to search the place.

"Stephan's room?" he asked from Stephan's room.

"Yes," I answered.

He came back in, closing and locking the door without asking. I just went to the bed and lay down, closing my eyes.

"I need to set my alarm," I told myself out loud, reaching for my little bag. I had dropped it on the floor somewhere between the door and my bed.

"I've got it," James told me, and I heard him moving around.

I heard the little sound that meant my phone had been plugged into a charger.

"Thank you," I murmured, eyes still closed. "You can go now. I'll wake up on time. I've never been late to work. I'm not gonna start the habit tomorrow. As soon as my head stops this spinning, I'll be falling asleep."

He didn't respond, and I heard him moving around my room. He went into the bathroom, coming out just a moment later. The bed dipped as he sat beside me on the bed. I felt and smelled a cool, makeup removing wipe on my face.

I tensed up in surprise. What's he doing? He gently wiped my entire face, even wiping my eyelashes carefully to remove my mascara.

"You hardly wear any makeup," he said absently. "You have a lovely complexion." That was such a sweet thing to say that I had to snort.

"Look who's talking, Mr. Beautiful," I said.

"Perhaps I'll just call you Mrs. Beautiful," he said to me, leaning down to kiss just the tip of my nose.

I felt him get up again, returning after just a moment. When I felt his fingers on the b.u.t.ton of the waistband of my shorts, my eyes shot open, my hands moving to block him. The only light in the room came from the bathroom, but I could still make him out.

"What are you doing?" I asked slowly.

He brushed my hands away, unb.u.t.toning my shorts and sweeping them down my legs in a quick, smooth motion.

"Taking care of you," he said mildly. "I told you and Stephan that I would. I'm getting you ready for bed right now. And if you start throwing up all of that poison you drank tonight, I'll take you to the bathroom and hold your hair out of your face for you. Hold still. I'll have you changed faster if you don't fidget so much."

Strangely, I obeyed him, and he had me out of my clothes and into the thin cotton shift I had packed as a nightgown.

He removed my bra like a pro, never touching a thing beyond my back and shoulders. He barely jostled me as he did it. It was rather impressive. He even folded my shorts carefully, and hung my blouse up, as though he did this everyday. He tucked me in carefully.

What a strange billionaire, I thought to myself.

When he finished, he came to stand over me. He looked down at me, hands in his pockets, looking like he wasn't sure what to do next. It was a strange look for him.

"You can sleep here," I told him. "If you can handle the lack of security." I couldn't help but tease him about that.

He sucked in a breath. "Do you mind if I just sleep in my boxers? It's much more comfortable, and I swear I won't try a thing. Tonight."

Did I mind? I was dying to see his body. I just had to know if he was that tan everywhere.

"Okay," I said in a breathless voice.

He didn't hesitate after that, stripping off his shoes, socks, shirt and slacks in short order. I wished fervently that the lights were on, never taking my eyes off of him. He slid onto the other side of the bed from me, lying on his back on top of the covers.

"Go to sleep," he told me.

"Are you tan like that everywhere?" I asked him, just on the edge of sleep. If he answered me, I never heard him as I drifted off.

CHAPTER SEVEN.

Mr. Moody The sound of my alarm woke me from a deep sleep. I never slept that hard, and coming out of it was something I was unaccustomed to. I knew instantly that it was gonna be a rough morning by the pounding in my temples.

The clock showed five a.m, but my body still thought it was two a.m. A twenty-four hour layover was never enough time to adjust to the time difference.

I wasn't surprised to find that James had left, though I was strangely disappointed.

Since there were no longer any lingering effects of alcohol buzzing through my system, I knew I had a problem. I was starting to like that kinky rich b.a.s.t.a.r.d.

I went directly into the shower, pinning my hair up and keeping it carefully dry. There was no way I'd have time to dry it if I washed it.

I threw my shift back on my slightly damp skin, planning to wear it until it was time to change into work clothes. I was so used to sharing adjoining rooms with Stephan that it was just second nature for me to stay at least partially decent while I got ready.

My bathroom door was slightly ajar, so when my hotel room door clicked open and then closed, I froze in alarm. I peaked out of the door, both surprised and relieved to see that it was James.

He joined me in the bathroom without asking. Even Stephan wasn't so familiar with me, so it caught me off guard that he would join me so casually in the bathroom right after I'd showered.

He handed me a cup of coffee and two white tablets. He set two bottles of water on the counter.

"The pills are for the hangover," he told me. "And the water will help. You're dehydrated."

I took the pills, downing most of the first bottle in the process. A long drink of the coffee and I felt nearly human again.

I saw that he had changed his clothes. He was back in a suit, looking fresh and well rested.

"You went back to your place?" I knew little about him, but I did know that he lived primarily in New York. My eyes were on his impeccable suit. It was a soft gray, his shirt and tie blue today. I'd never gotten a chance to get a good look at him without his clothes on. Dammit.

As I looked at him, my eyes moved up to his in the mirror. We were both facing it, and his lovely turquoise eyes were glued to my body with an intensity that made my eyes follow his.

My thin shift, combined with my slightly damp skin, had, not surprisingly, made my nightgown transparent. I might as well be naked, I thought, a little stunned.

And he was drinking in the sight of me hungrily, as though he'd never seen anything so appetizing in his life. It was an intoxicating feeling, to put that look in his eyes.

He stepped in directly behind me, his eyes steadily on my chest. My b.r.e.a.s.t.s felt heavy and I wanted him to touch them so badly.

I unconsciously arched my back a little, my shoulders going back, my chest forward, my nipples clearly visible as they rubbed against the thin fabric of my shift. They were pebbled to hardness, and tightened even more as I watched them.

"I don't want to make you late for work," he murmured. "But I need to do something."

He pressed up against my back, his arousal hard and heavy against my tailbone. His hands covered my b.r.e.a.s.t.s, finally, and I moaned, arching back. He kneaded them firmly and my eyes fell closed.

"Look at me," he snapped, and I obeyed automatically, meeting his intense eyes in the mirror.

"I like this nightgown," he said almost absently, as he continued to touch me. "Spread your legs more," he told me, and they just shifted apart, as though my body and his mouth had some sort of agreement that I wasn't yet privy to.

One hand stayed kneading my breast, and plucking at my nipple just perfectly while the other ran along my ribs, down my abdomen, and straight between my legs.

They started to shut instinctively against the invasion.

"Open wider," he ordered, and they just did. "I want to pleasure every inch of you, but for the moment, I'm just going to make you come. I just need to touch you. Lay your head back against my shoulder."

He quickly found and rubbed my c.l.i.toris with his thumb while his index and middle finger played at my entrance almost teasingly.

He sucked in a breath as he felt me. "G.o.d, a f.u.c.king wet virgin. You are too much, Bianca."

He pushed one finger into me slowly, and groaned. The fit was excruciatingly tight. I m.a.s.t.u.r.b.a.t.ed sometimes with my own fingers, but his were just so much bigger and rougher, and more talented. He knew how to touch me with far more skill than I knew how to touch myself. The thought was a little daunting, but my mind quickly wandered back to the sensations at hand.

He worked his finger all the way in and began to stroke, his finger seeking out just the right spot inside of me. His thumb never stopped circling my c.l.i.t, and his other hand still kneaded my tender breast with consummate skill. He was a h.e.l.l of a multi-tasker.

As he stroked, his arousal brushed against my back with increasing pressure. He slipped a second finger in and I felt impossibly full. I cried out, grinding against him.

He stopped suddenly. "Ask me for it," he ordered, and I didn't mistake his meaning.

"Please." I didn't hesitate.

"Say, please, Mr. Cavendish, make me come."

"Please, Mr. Cavendish, make me come."

He pinched my nipple hard as he stroked that perfect spot harder. I came in seconds, before I even really knew it was happening.

I hadn't realized that an o.r.g.a.s.m could be like that, erupting so swiftly. Or so powerfully. I felt like I may have lost myself for a moment.

We were both panting heavily as I came back to myself. He caught my gaze in the mirror as he shifted his fingers out of me. I watched, absolutely mesmerized, as he raised them to his mouth and licked them clean.

When he finished, he grabbed my chin and turned my head to his for a deep kiss. "You are the most perfect f.u.c.king thing I've ever seen in my life," he murmured against my mouth.

I tried to reach for his still heavy arousal. He caught my hand, knowing where it was headed. "There's no time. Get dressed." He sounded almost angry now.

He was apparently frustrated and moody about it.

I got dressed in record time, in my little dress suit that was designed to look like a mock man's suit, little tie and all.

James watched me the entire time, not giving me a second of privacy. I was in too much of a hurry to worry about it.

"That is the hottest f.u.c.king flight attendant uniform I've ever seen. That thing should be illegal. I'm going to do some illegal things to you with that little tease of a tie," he said, his tone serious. I just laughed.

"I can do my hair and makeup in the van. Stephan will help me." I licked my lower lip and waved a hand at his still obviously heavy arousal. "I still have ten minutes to spare. There has to be something I can do for you. I don't like feeling like I've left you unsatisfied."

He smiled at me, and it was pained. "You are too perfect. But it's not happening this morning. I'm not coming again until I can be buried inside of you. Preferably for days."

I took a step closer to him, licking my lips again. Impulsively, I knelt in front of him.

"You could bury yourself somewhere else," I said, my voice turning breathy.

My face hovered just inches from his groin, but I checked the urge to touch him, just looking up at him instead.

He gripped my hair a little roughly. "Have you done that before?" he asked, his voice unsteady.

I shook my head, licking my lips again. "Like I've told you, I don't date. I don't do any of this stuff. I don't know what's gotten into me, but you should take me up on the offer before I change my mind."

He had his slacks unb.u.t.toned and his arousal out so fast that I blinked at the sight of him. He was..spectacular. And right in my face.

It was no hardship at all to take him into my mouth and start sucking on him hungrily. Just the opposite. I'd never wanted something so much in my life. Though I couldn't fit much more than the tip past my teeth.

"Use your hands at the base," he told me. He used his hands to show me. He used the moisture that my mouth had spread on the tip and the shaft to lubricate my hands. He coached them into a twisting motion at the base.

"Harder," he ordered. "Pull your lips over your teeth and suck harder," he gasped. "Yes, that's perfect, Bianca."

"I'm coming," he warned me several intoxicating moments later. Both of his hands were gripped in my hair tightly. "If you don't want me to come in your mouth, you should pull back now." His voice was absolutely raw with his need, and I loved it. I could get addicted to this feeling. To this act.

Instead of pulling back, I sucked harder, swallowing instinctively when the warm essence of him shot against the back of my throat.