Chapter Six
Kiss me.
Before he could register her words, she slid on top of him and lowered her lips to his. What the hell? He opened his mouth, tangling his tongue with hers, his heartbeat quickly accelerating. Maybe he could file this in the lesson about spontaneity.
They’d avoided public displays of affection so far. Number one because they didn’t want anyone to see them and know about their temporary affair. And number two, what affection? He liked her, sure, but not in an affectionate way. Such feeling would be futile, especially after she seemed so shocked when he’d told her about his vasectomy.
Sweet Emma wanted marriage and kids, and he couldn’t offer her either—even if he wished to do so. He’d seen firsthand what great passion did to a man—and he was far too much like his damaged father not to do the same. Besides, what kind of dad would he be given the crappy example he’d had as a child? And, shit, he hadn’t even been able to protect his own brother.
Emma linked her arms around him, and any rationalization went out the window. He intensified the rhythm of the kiss, her moan reverberating inside him. His cock throbbed, and he doubted he’d be able to stand without exposing his hard-on. She shifted on his lap, bringing them to a sinful position that could land them both in jail.
“Emma, piccola mia…”
The warmth from her pussy sifted through the material of her skirt.
A clearing of a throat pulled him from the brink of madness, and he withdrew his mouth from hers, his hands still gripping her. “Mr. Giordano?” Nance, the concierge he’d known for years, said, blushing. “Your crew is ready, sir.”
“Of course.”
She flashed him a courteous smile and sauntered out of sight.
Emma slid off his lap to the seat next to her, smoothing her hands down her clothes.
“Care to tell me why you mauled me out of the blue?”
She finger-combed her hair, probably unaware of how sexy she was. A glint of light hit her pretty eyes, and he had to curl his fingers into a ball to keep from moving her back to his lap, the place she should never have left. The place where her kitty belonged.
“I’m sorry…the bartender,” she said tilting her head in the direction of Skylar, the manager of the bar catering for customers and crew, “she threw some shade about you being with me, and I wanted to show her rather than tell her my point.”
A pang of disappointment stabbed at him. It’d been all about female vanity. “I never took you for catty.”
“Neither have I, but we learn new things every day, right?” She gave him a nervous smile.
“Yes. And I think it’s time for a new lesson.”
“Which is?”
“Never kiss me in public to make someone jealous without my full participation.”
She frowned. “What? What kind of bullshit lesson is that? Sounds too specific. I doubt I’d ever be in this situation with Simon.”
“This isn’t about your pansy fiancé. This is about a lesson I’ll teach you,” he said, standing. “Shall we?” He offered his hand, but she didn’t take it, narrowing her eyes like she wouldn’t go along with whatever he had in mind.
Go along she would. He caught himself smiling, savoring what would happen once the plane took off. When she’d kissed him and caught him off guard, he’d enjoyed it, and she’d turned him on. But after she’d told him about Skylar, a part of him felt a discontent he shouldn’t be allowed where Emma was concerned. She reminded him of some of the uber-competitive women he’d dated, who enjoyed one-upping each other.
And he preferred the Emma he’d known before the lessons started, because he appreciated her brutal honesty and pragmatism.
He followed her into the private jet with his wicked ideas about sexy ways to punish her clear in his mind. She sat across from him and fumbled with the entertainment system, avoiding his gaze. He, bastard that he was, kept his eyes on her, and every time she perhaps accidentally tossed a glance his way, he intensified his stare. She shifted in the oversized seat, fidgeting with one of the magazines, her soft fingers and white-tipped nails caressing the pages one by one.
When they reached a safe altitude and the safety belt sign turned off, he said, “Come.”
He took her to his suite, proud to have bought this new jet with extra privacy. She entered and studied the minimalistic décor and bed. “I can’t believe there’s a bed in here,” she said plopping on it.
He undid his tie, taking it off. “There’s more than a bed.”
He opened the door to the bathroom, decorated in white with gold accents. A fragrance of vanilla swirled around him, probably from the cleaning crew. She stood, fascination gleaming in her eyes. “Wow.”
“Wow is right.” He held her hand, pulling her to him.
She gasped, staring at his lips. Naughty, naughty Emma.
He bent her over the sink. “You were very bad, sweet Emma. You used me. I feel like you’re using me all along…my body…but as long as I’m in on it, that’s cool.”
“Is it too late for an apology?”
“The best way you can apologize to me is to let me fuck you.”
She squirmed, undulating her hips.
He hiked up her skirt, touching her prickled skin. When he pulled it over completely, he glanced at a pair of beige cotton panties, unlike the ultra-sexy ones he’d bought her on the previous day. “Where are your G-strings, baby doll?”
“They… I packed them. I like to travel in comfort.”
He slipped his fingers inside her underwear, cupping her gorgeous butt. “This has to be the sexiest ass I’ve ever seen.” He growled, loving how she rocked her hips into his hands, sighing, no doubt needing more just like he did.
He caressed her cheek in circular motions, warming her flesh with his palm. She pushed her behind into his hand, as moans escaped her lips. Encouraged, he swatted her ass, and she yelped. “This is for not listening to the rules,” he whispered.
“Isn’t part of your lessons to teach me to forget about my boring, good-for-nothing rules?”
“I’m talking about mine. Like how you didn’t wear the G-string,” he said, smacking her other cheek, this time harder than before.
She squirmed, shifting in front of him like she liked the game. Of course she did. Despite her congenial ways, a bad girl screamed to get out of Emma. And what kind of selfish man would he be if he didn’t oblige a woman’s wish?
He landed his palm on her again, and she whimpered, clutching the edge of the sink. Damn her. Quickly, a redness spread across her plump cheek, and he almost interrupted his spanking to kiss it.
Arranged sex shouldn’t be this much fun.
She liked when he was in control. And he liked being in control—since any way else was impossible, he could control this. Not the desire, but the execution, and he’d damn well take advantage of every second.
…
Emma gripped the edge of the sink. The touch of his hand seared her ass, and the sting spread across the cheek, branding her. She offered her ass to him one more time, perking it up, and he groaned, then smacked her harder.
Her clit throbbed, anticipation pounding in her veins. Perhaps listening to her silent plea, he squeezed her cheeks, then kneaded them, the vigorous massage doing little to relax her.
No wonder women lost their heads over Nico—he was a goddamn sex genius.
His cock poked her, and she felt the cum trickling from his tip. She licked her lips and wished they were in a soundproof room and not in a suite thousands of feet from the ground.
Sure, his flight crew came across as discreet and professional, but she couldn’t shout from the top of her lungs with them around. And she wanted to—God, how much she wanted to.
She turned around, needing to see his face, to touch it, to kiss it. He lifted her feet from the floor and placed her on the sink, and she parted her legs, quivering with need.
He cupped her face and moved closer to kiss her, but then he paused for a moment, and those gorgeous eyes took her breath away. A blend of lust and another emotion she couldn’t detect—a dark sentiment buried in the golden flecks—gleamed in them, setting her pulse on fire.
He fused his lips with hers, and she kissed him with a hunger that astonished her. She stroked her tongue with his, loving the possessive way he nudged her thighs apart and inched closer. Feeling bold, she cupped his cock through his pants, his hard-on greeting her with the fast precision of a military salute.
“Yes,” he told her, encouraging her to keep caressing him. “Dio, Emma, touch me,” he said, then kissed her so hard she lost her balance for a moment. Nothing else mattered but their raw desire for each other.
She unzipped his pants, and fumbled with the black boxer briefs to pull out his cock. In her hand, it throbbed, the veins coming alive, as she felt his blood rushing to the tip. She traced the moist head, and with the tip of her finger, rubbed some of his cum along his hot rod. He trembled, and she loved it.
He slid his hand into her underwear, cupping her pussy, and she almost came then and there. “Fuck, Emma. This is all for me?” he asked, thrusting three fingers inside her wetness.
She writhed against his hand, in a hot search for release. He flicked her achy clit with his thumb, and she moaned. Loud, not caring who heard her at this point. Discretion be damned. She sank her nails into his neck, scratching him, a primitive part of her longing to leave a mark on him as he left one on her. Every time.
“Answer me,” he said, removing his fingers from her.
She whimpered, confused. A cold draft replaced the delightful, warm response his digits never failed to deliver. He pressed his hand into her waist, holding her steady, and stared down at her, his eyes blazing into hers. “What?” she whispered.
“Is this all for me?” he asked, enunciating each word.
“Yes, Nico,” she said, breathless. “It’s all for you.”
He plunged his fingers inside her, harder, deeper, without breaking eye contact for one second. She chewed her lip, loving how he grew in her hand, his thick girth expanding, only increasing her hunger for him. God, she wanted this cock inside her.
“Fuck me, Nico,” she said, tugging at his cock so there would be no mistake.
“Sweet Emma finally learned a bad word,” he said, nipping her lip. A bolt of arousal moved through her, fast, sizzling her nerve endings, driving her insane. “You deserve a prize.”
He pressed the head of his cock against her entrance, his cum rubbing against her folds. She nearly combusted, and scooted to the edge of the counter to increase the friction. Instead of straight-up thrusting, he took his dick on a tour of her cunt, outlining her folds, teasing her clit. With the other hand, he pulled up her shirt and removed her breasts from her bra.
Shit. The man had a talent… “Nico. God. You want to kill me?”
He pinched her nipple, and a tingle shot up her breast and through her body, in opposite directions until it turned into a hot throb burning her insides. He pushed her down and soon began sucking her breast, his tongue tracing over her tight nipple, his mouth claiming her mound.
She undulated her hips, increasing the pressure, his large cock so close yet so far. He bit the skin around her nipple, and she let out another loud moan. “Please…please…”
“Please what?” he said, raising his face from her breast and looking at her.
“Fuck me right now. With your cock.”
A shameless grin formed on his sexy lips, and he shifted, drilling into her with one powerful thrust. Her inner muscles clung to him, never wanting to let go. Soon, the bravado left his face as he kept fucking her, each time harder, deeper, and each time an intense line formed on his forehead.
She wrapped her legs around him, taking him deeper, ready to milk him any way she could. “Yes. Oh, yes.”
He held her hands in his, and they both trembled when he retreated halfway only to return one more time and fill her all the way to the hilt. Unable to take any more of that delicious torture, she let go, quivering, the pleasure spreading from her core to her curling toes.
Soon after, he came, filling her with a warm load. Even after they both stopped trembling, he still held her, and she kept her legs around him.
When he moved, gently, he withdrew, pulled up his pants, then carried her to the bed. The whole four steps in his arms made her foolishly reenergized. When he eased her onto the mattress, she sighed.
“One of these days, can you teach me how to do a killer blowjob?”
He pursed his sexy lips. “You got it.”
“I’ve always sucked at it…” She laughed at her choice of words.
“I’m sure you’ll redeem yourself.” He plopped on the bed next to her and crossed his legs.
This was weird, spending time with him without sex for a buffer. She reached for the pillow under the bedspread and clutched it. He stared at the ceiling, and she should too—not to get caught gawking at him.
Sure, maybe he wasn’t marriage material, but damn the man was fine.
“Why are you looking at me?” he asked, turning to face her.
Shit. “Ugh, I was thinking… Have you ever slept with that bartender?” She said the first thing that came to her mind. Better than to give his ego deep strokes.
“Skylar? No,” he said without hesitating.
She smiled inwardly, and a foolish wave of pride washed over her. “She acted like she knew you. Said every month she sees you with a new girl. Mentioned something about last month’s girl.”
“That’d be impossible, considering I haven’t flown with anyone in a few months,” he said truthfully. “And yeah, Skylar tried a couple of times, but nah.”
“Why not?”
“Because I use this airfield often, and she works here, and I don’t want to make things complicated. You know, seeing her after I finished screwing around with her.”
Emma turned and glanced at the ceiling. No wonder he hadn’t been onboard with her plan at first, and it’d taken some convincing. What would their relationship be like after she hooked Simon again and—
She willed the thought away. She didn’t need to see him every day, just when her brother held dinner parties. Zaine would be returning from Africa in three weeks for his wedding, but she imagined he’d be way too busy for tons of socializing. Especially with a baby on the way.
Either way, she’d survive seeing Nico again after they ended their bizarre deal. She had to, otherwise her heart would pay the hefty price. A cold chill rolled into her stomach. Get it together, girl. All she needed to do was keep quiet about Desmorais’s sanctuary project and her role in it. When the time came and Nico made his offer to Desmorais, the Frenchman would decline it. She’d have done her job—to bring him to Desmorais.