SIX

JORDAN

I stepped over the threshold, Noah behind me, shutting the door, flicking on light switches. I walked over to the window, needing a moment to compose myself, staring out at the bright lights illuminating the Strip. He hadn’t been kidding about the view or how spectacular the room was. Floor-to-ceiling windows highlighted Las Vegas in all of its glory. And then I turned, and my gaze settled on him, and the majesty of neon and glitz couldn’t hold a candle to the man in front of me.

“Do you want a drink?” Noah asked, his voice gravel, the sound eliciting a pull low in my belly.

I shook my head. The tequila I’d drunk earlier at dinner was becoming a distant memory and now all my senses were coming alive. It had been a long time since I’d had sex, an eternity since I’d had good sex, and possibly never since I’d had the kind of sex Noah promised every time he touched me.

I didn’t want anything dulling that.

I turned back toward the window, and then a second later the soft strands of music filled the suite. Not cheesy seduction music, but the low, throbbing beat of a house song that set the mood better than anything else could have. I closed my eyes, giving myself over to the tension vibrating between us like a live wire, the music filling my ears and my heart.

This was my favorite moment. Always. That moment right before everything started, when you hovered over the edge, that moment when you existed in the in-between. The promise of intimacy was a game-changer, and yet there was still that tension that lingered, the pause before everything altered. It was that moment when you were in the water and caught sight of a great wave, all of nature hanging in suspension as you watched the beauty of its power and prepared for the ride of your life. It was the possibility of it. Later it could turn out to be a dud, it could fuck you over and disappoint, but now, now—

It was magic.

He was magic.

Heat slid through me as Noah came up behind me, pulling me against his body, holding me tight in his embrace like I belonged there. I tilted my head back, leaning into him. He stroked my hair, playing with the strands, his touch achingly gentle. I liked that he didn’t rush, that he touched me like he wanted to savor every moment. I liked it, and at the same time, it threw me for a loop. I was happiest when I could put things into tiny little boxes. My personality was chaotic enough; I needed everything else around me to be easily classified or else I just became a fucking mess. And I didn’t know what to make of this.

This was a one-night stand. Maybe if things went well, two nights. His touch was supposed to make me come. Instead, it unraveled me until I was quivering each time his flesh grazed mine.

There was something here I wasn’t prepared for, a reverence I hadn’t expected bubbling up until it became a lump in my throat, blocking out everything else. It had been there between us in the cabana, unbidden, a sense of awe that filled me. Hell, maybe it had even been there that first night I saw him, simmering underneath the urge to take off our clothes. Or maybe I was wrong to try to separate the two. I didn’t know what I was anymore.

Noah stroked the back of my neck, a shiver rippling through me. His touch was light, his fingers teasing. He slid forward, tracing the curve of my neck, skimming my collarbone, my entire world focused on the pads of his fingers. Each part of my body that he touched felt remade, born again to something new, something I’d never imagined. As though I gave those pieces to him, losing myself at the same time I found something I’d never expected.

There was so much beauty here that it hurt. I’d wanted dirty and quick and I’d gotten the slow death, death by one thousand strokes.

I loved every single one of them.

I sucked in a deep breath when Noah reached the center of my chest, hovering there, inches away from my cleavage. He turned me to face him, his other hand tipping my chin up so our gazes locked.

My mouth went dry.

His eyes were night, dark pools I couldn’t read, his breath ragged as though he’d gone to war and barely come out the other end. I drank his sighs as though they were water and I was dying of thirst, wanting, needing to take each part of his body into mine.

This wasn’t sex. It was worship.

And then his lips closed over my earlobe and I forgot everything as I succumbed to the deep pull of lust that assailed me and gave him my body even as I clung to my heart, as if I could hide it away from him in some secret place he couldn’t touch.

I wasn’t a romantic, far from it. And I hadn’t confused sex with love in a very long time. But I’d never gotten this before. Never felt such a strong link between my body and someone else’s, never felt the kind of cause and effect that meant that he did and I felt.

Until now. Until Noah took fifteen years of hard-won dating knowledge and flung it back at me as though it were nothing, and suddenly, I felt a different kind of naked. Like my bravado, and sass, and all the armor I put on had failed me. I went from the driver’s seat to just-along-for-the-ride with a few caresses, and hell, I was all too willing to follow him.

He nipped me, his mouth hot against my ear, paying homage to another part of my body as if each curve of flesh was a stop on his own personal pilgrimage and I was his hallelujah. I’d never thought of my ears as particularly erotic, but holy shit, Noah proved me wrong.

His fingers stroked my skin, moving lower until he reached the top of my dress. I arched forward, my body craving more, laying myself at his altar.

“Touch me,” I whispered, my voice hoarse and needy, my plea sounding suspiciously more like a demand. I wanted to cloak myself in the promises his body gave me, sink down on his cock until he filled me. I wanted the memory of this night to sustain me long after the magic had gone, when I was back to my ordinary life and dates that ended with too-wet kisses on my doorstep and a pint of Häagen-Dazs after.

This was one of those magical nights I’d read about, dreamed of, but never experienced myself. And now that it was here, I was overcome with the desire to both draw it out and rush to the best part.

Noah’s hands settled on my hips, holding me in place as his gaze all but devoured me with the same fervor as a condemned man given his last meal, and another ache filled me. I didn’t feel like some interchangeable girl like I had with other guys, like I was just the means to an end for a guy chasing his next orgasm. I felt like he chased me.

“I never want to stop touching you,” Noah whispered, his voice throaty and low, my legs quivering as the words cloaked me in heat. His hand skimmed up the curve of my waist. “It feels wrong to be near you and not touch you. My hands turn greedy around you. So fucking greedy. I can’t get enough. There are too many places on your body that I want to touch, kiss, lick, fuck.”

Yes, please.

I’d never been shy about my body. I would never be called skinny, but it wasn’t lost on me that there were plenty of guys who liked boobs and asses, and thankfully, I had both to spare. And by the way Noah looked at me like I was a present for him to unwrap, I figured they worked for him.

Not to mention, I had a pretty awesome view myself . . . and a whole lot of fantasies.

I reached between us, my own fingers turning greedy, fumbling with the buttons on his shirt, the need to have him naked and on top of me—or under me—eclipsing all else.

Noah stilled as I reached his stomach, my hand slipping down to stroke his abs through the thin fabric of his undershirt. His muscles flexed reflexively beneath my touch, my mouth dry, body wet. I wanted more of what I’d seen at the pool today. I wanted to gorge myself on him until I was happy, and sated, and too full to move.

My movements went from hesitant to hungry, racing through the buttons, tugging the shirt off his shoulders until all he wore was the V-neck white T-shirt that looked like it had seen more than a few washes.

The knot in my stomach tightened.

I didn’t know what was in the Vegas water, but whatever it was, there was something about his ruggedness, his I-don’t-give-a-shit, this-is-who-I-am, fucking-deal attitude that turned me on completely. This wasn’t a guy I would be able to manage; there was little softness to him. He was a handful in a way I’d never experienced before. A man who lived by a code of his own, one I still didn’t completely understand. And where I’d never thought I was the kind of girl who appealed to a rugged guy, the evidence to the contrary stood right in front of me.

I pulled at the hem of his T-shirt, my fingers sliding over satiny smooth skin. I yanked the fabric higher, the hiss that escaped his mouth singing in my blood. Our hands collided as we both struggled to get it over his head and then his shirt hit the floor and I sank to my knees.

I was tall enough that my lips leveled with the bottom of his stomach, tantalizingly near the indents on either side of his hips. I could write poetry about those two gaps. I kissed him there, inhaling his scent, my tongue hitting the dips just above his jeans. He groaned as I licked him, rocking forward, his arousal heavy and hard, inches away from my mouth.

The moment hovered suspended between us, his body vibrating with need. And then my hands grasped his belt buckle and we careened toward release.

I unbuckled his belt, the sound of the metal clinking together crackling between us. I pulled the leather through the denim loops with a snap, the belt falling from my fingers as I attacked the buttons at his fly, another groan escaping his lips as I stroked his cock through the denim. I was a woman possessed, whatever we’d created here between us finding a home inside me.

I slid the jeans off Noah’s hips. He jerked away to remove his socks and shoes, working the pants down his legs until he stood before me wearing black boxer briefs—yum—and a wicked smile. I tilted my face up, our gazes locking, my heart a steady drum. His hand reached out and stroked my hair, his fingers wrapping around the strands like a rope that bound me to him.

Noah’s eyes went onyx, his voice hoarse. “I wanted you like this the first second I saw you. Imagined you on your knees, that look in your eyes, while I fucked your face.”

My clit spasmed.

I’d never been a flowery-sex kind of girl. My enthusiasm for phrases like “making love” and “joining” was tepid at best. I’d never cried during sex, preferred the lights on, and nothing got me off like the filthy words that fell from a guy’s lips while he fucked me. So on every single level, this was working for me. A lot.

“Your mouth . . . your lips . . .” He groaned. The fist in my hair tightened, pulling my head back, dangling me somewhere on the precipice between pleasure and pain until it hurt so good. “You have fuck-me lips, a mouth made for sex. Full, soft, plump . . .”

I figured it was the only time a guy would ever get away with using the word “plump” in a sentence referring to my appearance without getting kneed in the balls. But he was right, my mouth did feel swollen, my lips sensitive, my tongue itching to lick him from base to tip.

Noah reached between us, the pad of his thumb brushing my lower lip, pressing down on the skin, opening my mouth. His fingers slipped in and I sucked them deep, the little bit of himself he gave me not nearly enough. I kept my gaze on his the entire time, the approval filling his eyes heating me from the inside out. Somewhere along the way this had ceased to be about what I wanted and instead became about pleasing him, about giving him a night he’d never forget. I’d already checked that box off for myself.

I drew the boxer briefs down his legs, each inch of fabric sliding down sucking more and more air out of the room until I could barely breathe.

He was beautiful. Big. Thick. Absofuckinglutely perfect.

Definite Chupacabra territory here.

I leaned forward, dragging my tongue along the underside of his cock, tasting him, his hands gripping my hair even harder, his hips canting toward me, a shudder rocking through him. His reaction fed me, satisfaction coursing through my veins. I swirled my tongue around the tip, sucking him deep between my lips, the groan that reverberated through his body the best sound I’d ever heard.

I’d never felt more feminine in my life. This was power, madness, glory. This was a complete and utter shattering of his control and mine. I was the one on my knees, but it was impossible to feel anything other than the sense that I held his world in the palm of my hand.

NOAH

I’d never experienced anything that gave me the same kind of high I found in the cockpit. Until now.

She took me into her mouth and I forgot my fucking name.

I hadn’t been wrong in all my fantasies about her pouty lips—the girl gave magnificent head, made even better by the fact that she clearly got off on it, too. There was nothing worse than a girl who went down on you like it was a chore, but this girl licked and sucked my cock as though each stroke of her tongue, each bob of her head, took her closer and closer to finding her own brand of ecstasy.

Her tongue swirled around the tip, a shiver trembling down my spine, drowning in the silky wetness and hot suction of her mouth, the urge to come between her lips.

Maybe “magnificent” wasn’t a strong enough word.

I pulled back, my hands on Jordan’s hips, lifting her up and carrying her over to the couch in the living room. One of us had entirely too many clothes on and I couldn’t wait until I had my mouth on her, until I learned if she tasted as sweet as she looked.

I settled her on the edge of the couch, my hands spreading her wide, sinking down on my knees. Jordan stared down at me with the same dazed expression that I was beginning to recognize as her sex-face, her fuck-me mouth swollen from our kisses and my cock.

It was like someone had dropped a fifty-pound weight on my chest. And then squeezed.

I opened my mouth to speak, words flooding my mind, all of them praise I wanted to lavish on her that fell short before they even left my lips.

I didn’t know how to describe the feelings pounding through me. Didn’t know how to quantify the sensation that from the moment we’d crossed over the threshold, fuck, from the moment I’d seen her, everything I’d known to be true had rolled and turned into a world I no longer recognized.

“This is better than a DCA sortie,” I muttered with a groan.

“What?” Her lips came down on my neck, sucking at the skin there. My dick throbbed.

I hadn’t even realized I’d said the words out loud. “It’s a good thing. A really fucking good thing.”

I slid my hand up under her dress, skimming my fingers along her inner thigh, caressing her. I’d never felt anything as smooth or as seductive. The image of me fisting my cock, coming all over her pretty skin, filled my mind.

That would definitely be better than anything I could find in the cockpit. Hell, the image alone was heart attack inducing and I was thisclose to coming. Foreplay went out the window.

“How do you get this thing off?” I asked, tugging at the bottom of her dress.

Jordan grinned, her voice a breathy whisper. “Quickly.”

She slid away from me, fumbling with the back of the dress and then she lifted her hips and pulled it over her head, the fabric hitting the floor, her body bare but for her heels and a sheer black thong that highlighted more than it concealed.

I went a little light-headed, the pain in my chest intensifying.

She sat back down on the edge of the sofa, her legs spread, no shyness between us. Motherfucking jackpot. Her confidence was hot on a whole other level. I liked that she didn’t insist on the lights off, that she didn’t shy away from me looking at her, committing every inch of her body to memory. I had big plans to lick and suck her later, after I’d had her once or twice, to cover her skin with marks from my lips and teeth, to have her moaning as I drove her crazy with need.

The pieces of her body that I’d gotten earlier had been pretty amazing, but the whole picture was something else entirely.

She had the most perfect tits I’d ever seen in my entire life, hands down, no contest. They were the ultimate handful—hell, more than a handful—her nipples a pretty shade of pink I couldn’t wait to get my mouth on. I cupped her breasts, my thumbs rubbing against her flesh, hardening the points until I couldn’t take it anymore and I leaned forward, capturing her nipple between my lips.

Yes.

She tasted sweet. Melt-in-your-mouth sweet. Addictive. No way was one night going to be enough with this girl.

I tongued her nipple, my teeth grazing her flesh, tugging, my cock hardening as her body responded to my touch, with the soft sighs that escaped her lips. I moved to her other breast, my fingers replacing my lips.

When this had started, my primary concern had been to feel good. To make her feel good. We’d passed by good a long time ago and the mission had changed.

I was a good pilot, hell, a great pilot, because I was relentless, my focus single-minded when it needed to be. When I had a contact on my scope, I didn’t let go until that fucker was dead. One night wasn’t enough with this girl, and good wasn’t what I wanted anymore. I wanted to see her again, beyond Vegas, beyond this night. Getting shot down wasn’t an option.

I reached up, pulling her thong off until she was naked before me.

She was fucking gorgeous.

I stood, my hands hooking under her hips, carrying her with me, wrapping her legs around my waist. My mouth went back on hers, my tongue thrusting inside and out, mimicking the motion my cock was desperate to make. We hit the bedroom, her hands scraping over my skin, her core rubbing against me, slippery and wet, throbbing around me.

I set her down on the bed and released her, reaching over and scrounging through my bag for a condom, my heart pounding. My fingers closed over the little foil packet, a silent shout of triumph rushing through me, and then I was ripping it open, my hands shaking as I slid the condom onto my cock.

Jordan lay on the bed, her gaze on me the entire time.

I opened my mouth to speak again, to say something, anything, but nothing came. Instead I found myself striding toward the mattress, and then I was between her legs, the head of my cock teasing her entrance, cursing the latex barrier between us, and then with one smooth stroke, I slid inside her, pressure building at the base of my spine.

So fucking good.

Jordan sighed as I filled her, her body clenching down around my cock. For a moment I stayed still, seated to the hilt, the feeling too good for movement, for anything.

Her hands trailed down my back, heating a path down my skin, and then I couldn’t not move, and my hips began pumping in a familiar rhythm that was as natural as breathing, instinct taking over when my brain failed to work.

My mind went blank, my entire world reduced to the in-and-out, thrust-and-release of my body inside hers, of the shudders that traveled through her to my cock. Sweat pooled on my brow, my body straining as I rode her, as I reached for a release I couldn’t yet grasp. Not until she came.

And then it built inside her, coming on strong, and Jordan shattered beneath me, her head thrown back, the look of utter abandon on her face the hottest fucking thing I’d ever seen. And as I watched the last remnants of her orgasm slide out of her, I took the embers, and tilted my hips, increasing my pace, thrusting in and out, harder, faster, bringing the next one on like a one-two punch.

When her second orgasm hit, when she shrieked my name, her body closing down on me like a vise, I let go, finally giving in to the release I craved until I saw stars.

Nothing had ever come close to my hand on the throttle, in the clouds like a god, going Mach 1.5, the world below me nothing but a memory. But now, my cock surrounded by her wetness, her body shuddering around mine as her pussy clenched down, the wave of her orgasm thrusting her tits forward and arching her back, my balls tightening as I succumbed to my own release, I preferred fucking to flying.