She doesn’t stay for an answer, climbing up the steps into the plane. Just as she reaches the threshold, she looks over her shoulder and throws me a wink.
I answer fast before she disappears through the entry. “I can wait. Patience is a virtue, after all. Especially when it comes to inevitable things.”
A choked noise comes from her throat, but she hides it well under a cough. Then she’s gone. Into the plane and out of sight.
I follow her, nodding to the pilot flanked by his co-pilot and the flight attendant along the way. We pass the couch, taking seats opposite one another, separated by a small table between us.
My team shuffles on board next before we prepare for takeoff.
“This is some plane.”
She’s doing her best to hide her reaction, and I bite back the laugh threatening to spill. I can’t laugh in front of my men.
“It gets me from point A to point B safely. That’s all I care about.”
“And a bathroom.”
There’s that grin again. It’s the second attempt at that joke, and I won’t let it go unanswered.
Grabbing her arm, I lead her to the very back of the cabin.
“Where are we going?” She sounds suspicious.
Good. She should be.
“Since you were so concerned about my bathroom habit, I decided to take you.” This time, I’m the one who winks, and her blue eyes go wide.
Throwing the door open, I hear her mumbling, but I don’t stop until we’re both inside the tight cubicle, the door shut behind us.
I stalk toward her, watching as her body edges onto the sink in her effort to back away. She’s trapped, and it’s doing things to me that it shouldn’t.
“Allow me to offer a VIP tour of the bathroom . . . since you’re so concerned.”
“Concerned,” she echoes, glued to my movements. “Yes. Concerned.”
“This is the sink.” I lean over her, wrapping my arm around her to turn the faucet on and off.
It’s an excuse to brush against her, and it works. Her body arches into mine, begging to be touched.
“Nice sink,” she comments.
It’s hard not to laugh. She hasn’t even looked at it. Hasn’t looked at anything but me.
Hunger laced with fear glazes over her eyes. She wants me, and that scares her.
She severs the connection first, spinning to face the mirror. From behind her, I stare at our reflection.
The delicate curve of her neck. Her parted lips. The way her chest heaves.
If I dipped my fingers under her dress, would I find her soaked?
“Tell me, Miss Matthews. Do you often think about me in the restroom? And when you do, do your hands drift between your thighs?”
Her breath catches. “Excuse me?”
“How often do you picture it?” I step closer, gluing our bodies together. “Is it because you want to be here with me?”
In the reflection, her pupils dilate, lips dropping into a small O. She sighs, head leaning back on my shoulder. I don’t think she even realizes it, but she’s turned on. Craving me.
My dick is hard against her ass, ready for this. I slide my palm across her hip.
“I don’t care what you do in the bathroom,” she whispers.
But despite her words, she pushes back into me, grinding her ass against every inch of my hardness. She’s affected by me. She wants me as much as I want her.
“If I slide my fingers inside you, what will I find, Miss Matthews?”
Kicking her legs apart, my hand drifts down the skirt of her dress, slipping under the edge of the cotton inch by inch.
"I bet . . . ” Another inch. Another gasp. “ . . . I’ll find that pussy dripping.”
Our gazes are locked through the reflection. I watch her eyes flare as I cup her pussy, our skin separated by a thin scrap of lace.
I trace my index finger over the material, circling over her clit.
Outside, we hear Gideon’s raucous laughter. Skye tenses, but her hips buck forward, chasing my touch.
“Look at you, Skye. You’re soaking wet.” My fingers come to her nipple, pinching it through her dress. “Do you want Gideon to hear you come? I can make you scream my name.”
She moans at my words. I push the lace aside, and then I collect her wetness and circle it around her clit.
Skye grinds back against me. The movement nearly sends my finger inside her greedy body.
“Tell me what you want, Skye.”
She doesn’t answer.
“Beg for me.”
Her breathing accelerates, and I can hear the way she bites back her pleas.
“Be a good girl, and I’ll give it to you. I’d give you anything. All you have to do is ask.”
But she doesn’t answer.
She is so headstrong—so Skye—I want to bury my head into her neck, run my tongue along the column, and make her fall apart. Instead, I wink at her through the mirror, ten seconds from pulling my hard cock out and sinking inside her.