CHAPTER 25
Kenzie
I’d barely finished eating my salad when I felt Aaron’s hand on my knee.
“Hey, you.” I laughed lightly, trying to brush him off. I wasn’t comfortable with the idea of getting frisky while Zoe moved about the jet. I knew she’d be coming around to pick up my plate at any moment, so it felt best to hedge our bets until she did.
“I want you,” he growled. I couldn’t stop my body from responding eagerly, as always. But still, I had my reservations.
“Right here?” I whispered, scandalized.
“No,” he said. “In the bedroom.”
“A bedroom?” My arousal was cut short by skepticism. How could they fit an entire bedroom on a jet, no matter how luxurious it was?
“You don’t believe me?” he asked.
“I’ve seen photos of sleeping cabins on planes before. I’d hardly call them bedrooms—more like cubbies on a train.”
He wrinkled his nose. “Commercial travel. You have no idea what you’re in for.” He stood, taking me by the hand. I followed him to the back of the seating cabin, then through a door that led to the small kitchen area. I looked around, marveling at how it was roughly the same size as the kitchen in my first studio apartment.
“Zoe, Kenzie is finished with her meal.” Zoe nodded, keeping her eyes discreetly away from me.
I hated feeling like everybody knew what we were going to do. Just how many women had he inducted into the Mile High Club? I didn’t think I wanted to know.
He led me through another door after that, and into what I would have mistaken for a five-star hotel suite. From the plush carpeting to the four-poster bed with its mountains of pillows, it could easily have been the bedroom of a luxury retreat.
“Holy Moses . . .” I walked around, mouth hanging open. I would never have believed it existed if he hadn’t shown me.
“It’s good for long trips,” Aaron conceded. “Or this.”
Before I knew what was happening, he had me pinned to the bed. Adrenaline rushed through my veins with every beat of my heart, and my core burned with lust the moment his knee parted mine.
I could have resisted.
Hell, I could have told him I wanted a minute to let my food digest.
I didn’t.
I wanted it, and he knew it.
He could read me like a book.
I sighed, closing my eyes to absorb the sensation of his mouth on my throat. He took my wrists in his hands, pinning them above me. One hand held them fast while the other ran a long, slow trail down my body. I shivered deliciously, anticipating more.
Then he hiked up my skirt in a quick, almost vicious, movement. I gasped, but his mouth covered mine again. His tongue invaded me, plundering, taking rather than giving. I shivered again at his forcefulness—I was used to him dominating me, but he’d never gone ahead without giving me any notice.
He didn’t say a word as he used his tie to bind my wrists to one of the bedposts. I reminded myself that I trusted him as he tore my panties from my body.
I tried not to think about the supply of condoms in the dresser drawer, one of which he unrolled over his rigid length. I didn’t want to think about how many women came before me.
I only wanted to feel.
And I did feel as he skewered me with one long, sharp thrust.
“Oh, God,” I whispered, the force of his motion pushing me backward. He held me still, fingers gripping my hips so hard it almost hurt. Again and again, he drove himself into me, heedless of the little cries coming from my mouth. His eyes were closed, his mouth open as he panted like an animal. That was how he took me—rough, hard, his body taking what it needed.
And I loved it.
I burned, scorched by the heat of the passion he aroused in me. I told myself I shouldn’t like it—nice girls shouldn’t like it like that. I shouldn’t like him tying me up, rendering me helpless thousands of feet in the air on our way to an exotic island away from it all. I shouldn’t like the way he fucked me without thinking of my pleasure or my needs. He only wanted to come, to use me. I never knew I wanted somebody to use me. But when it came to Aaron, he could use me again, and again.
Maybe it was just him, just the effect he had on me. I didn’t know, and I certainly didn’t care.
It didn’t take long for him to come the first time, and I still pulsed with aching desire as he slid from me. He untied me. “Take off your clothes,” he ordered while taking off his own. He’d only unfastened his pants before taking me that first time. I made quick work of unbuttoning my blouse, unzipping my rumpled skirt.
Within seconds, I wore nothing at all.
“On your hands and knees,” he growled. I turned around, doing as he told me. He pushed my shoulders down to the mattress, baring all of my most intimate parts to him. His thumb ran slow circles over my virgin back entrance, and I flinched.
“Shh,” he whispered. I couldn’t deny how the nerves back there jumped in response to his attention. He didn’t do any more than touch me, and I settled into it.
Once the surprise passed, the pleasure grew.
“I’ll have this, too,” he muttered. “I’ll have all of you. But not yet.” Then he entered me again, this time with his fingers. I groaned, my muscles tightening around him. He pummeled me, slamming his knuckles against my delicate folds. I met his thrusts, riding his hand, my gasps more urgent the longer he went. Soon I cried out in ecstasy, pressing my face into the mattress to muffle the sound.
I hadn’t come down from that first burst before he slammed into me again, his thickness parting my still-quivering walls. He groaned, taking in the feeling of my orgasm, riding me while I came down.
It was hard, again, even harder than before. He held me down with one hand on my neck, forcing me to bend to his will. I grunted in time with his thrusts, his balls slapping against my throbbing button.
Another climax built in me, and I welcomed it even as I wasn’t sure I could handle it so soon. It came anyway, the pleasure so extreme I hardly held on to my senses. I would have screamed if we were alone—as it was, I bit my lip to stifle the ecstatic noises.
Aaron’s thrusts got faster, harder still, more frantic. He groaned, one final thrust sending him over the edge. A moment later he slid from me, falling onto his side. I collapsed, facing him.
I felt strangely empty. One second I was full, complete, then the next, void. I realized I wanted to reach him. That was what I missed.
Sure, it was great—better than great. Hot, steamy, soul-shattering. The best I’d ever had, and probably would ever have.
But I wanted him—not just his tremendous manhood, his strong fingers, his mouth. He rarely looked me in the eye when he took me, and I couldn’t help but feel a little bit of regret complicating our relationship by agreeing to come work for him.
I turned his face to mine, trying to hold his gaze. I wanted to sink into his deep, dark eyes for once and understand him.
He wouldn’t meet me halfway. He might as well have physically rejected me.
I turned my face away, not wanting to show him how he’d hurt me. I didn’t want to spoil the trip, especially seeing as we weren’t even there yet.
I sat up, putting my clothes together without a word. “In a hurry?” Aaron asked. I closed my eyes, my back turned to him. He sounded sarcastic, almost. Like he wanted to push me away. He was doing a fairly spectacular job of it, if that was his goal.
“I didn’t think you would want us to lie around naked when there’s a stewardess walking around the jet.”
“I think they prefer to be called attendants, now.” I heard him chuckle. I had to smile—there I was, Little Miss Equality, using an un-PC term.
“Sorry. Attendant. Zoe. You know what I mean.” I stood, fixing the belt around my waist before searching through my purse for the small hairbrush I always carried.
I was a total mess, hair sticking up in all directions. I used the mirror above the dresser to help fix myself up, reapplying my lip gloss, cleaning smudged eyeliner from beneath my eyes.
“It’s up to me,” he said. “I’m the boss. She knows better than to walk in after I’ve closed the door.”
“Oh—is that a specific order?” I smirked at him in the mirror. “Has she made that mistake before?”
“I have a thing with doors,” he said. “If the door is closed, it’s closed. I don’t want to be disturbed.”
I turned, intrigued in spite of the fierce, aching sting in my heart. “Where does that come from? That thing with doors?”
“I like my privacy,” he said, making it clear there was no room for questions. He had a commitment to keeping me an arm’s length from him. I looked away, feeling the sting twist in my gut again, as he sat up in bed. He would never understand what he’d just done to me—how he pushed me away, unknowingly.
I thought about his closed doors.
They were everywhere, all over his life.
Now I was seeing it for the first time and hated to have doubts about him, but the truth was, suddenly, I did.
The sight of his gorgeous body did little for me for a change. I sat on the bed to slide into my shoes. “What’s our schedule again? You never actually told me.”
I felt the frustration coming from him in waves. He didn’t like to be questioned. I should have let it go. I should have been a good girl and been grateful for the chance to take a trip.
Only, I wasn’t a good girl.
It wasn’t in my nature to be obedient. I asked questions and liked having them answered.
I wasn’t one to accept and go along.
And I was tired of letting him dictate my actions.
“You’ll know everything you need to know when we get there.” He turned away to button his shirt, suddenly very interested in getting it just right. Like he’d never done it before.
I took his body language as an engraved invitation to stop asking questions. His mercurial personality, once so alluring, was already starting to wear on me.
He wasn’t roguish and charming.
He was secretive, cold, evasive. Was this new? Or was I just too blind to recognize it before?
And I’d thought things were going so well, too. Had I talked myself into a trap?