Page 48 of Plane Passion

It was terrible logic, but with her hand on his cock, he was having difficulty coming up with a counter argument.

Did he really want to stop her? No.

But still…

“I don’t know why I’m arguing with you. I must be losing my mind. But I don’t want you to regret me. Not for yesterday. Not for tonight. If you’re choosing me over the risks, I’m yours. If you’re only using me to scratch a guilty itch, you should go back to bed.”

She stopped her hand. Dammit.

“Why does it matter to you so much?”

“I may be a cad, but I don’t believe in taking a woman to bed who doesn’t wholeheartedly want to be there.”

Grasping him, she ran her thumb over his sensitive tip, spreading the bead of liquid that formed there, making him groan.

“And you don’t think I want to be here.”

She resumed stroking. He was losing the ability to form coherent thoughts.

“Oh, God. Millie. I… I can’t… You have to stop.”

As she stilled her hand, he felt a terrible sense of loss. What was he thinking?

Gasping for air, he scooted away from her as far as the tiny bed would allow.

“I’m certain you want to be here right now, but I’m not certain you won’t hate me for it in the morning. I don’t want to keep going if you’re going to have regrets.”

She was quiet and still for a long moment. “I came to you because I knew I would regret spending the night alone far more than I would regret being with you. I choose you. I promise not to regret this in the morning.”

He didn’t entirely believe her, but he wasn’t going to get any firmer assurance than that. And he wanted her desperately. Giving in, he wriggled out of his boxers.

Unable to control himself, he rolled on top of her, nestling between her legs and kissing her like a starving man. She answered him with equal fervor, wrapping her legs around him and digging her nails into his back. His cock dragged through her wet seam, and she arched beneath him, curving herself to invite more. Dear Lord, this woman.

All the fire, spirit, and determination she brought to her quest to become an airmail pilot, she brought to bed as well. Millie Aldrich did nothing by half measures. She was as bold and assertive in his arms as she was in the cockpit. With a twist, she nudged him over onto his back, pinning his arms above his head.

Reaching down to grasp him, she took control. Her skilled touch brought him up, up, up above the clouds, piloting him through groans and shudders and jerks, bringing him ever higher. She nipped and licked her way down his chest as he surrendered to her expert hand. When her tongue touched his cock, the world around him disappeared, and he was floating, soaring. And when she took him in her mouth, he entered the stratosphere, leaving the world behind and gliding out amongst the moon and stars.

A blinding white light exploded around him, and he spent himself, unable to hold back as her lips and tongue sucked him into sweet oblivion.

When blood returned to his brain and conscious thought became possible again, he looked up to find her sitting astride him, the moonlight revealing a greedy grin on her face.

“Now it’s my turn,” she said, scratching her nails down his chest. “Take me flying, Pritchard.”

“With pleasure, Aldrich.” He swiftly turned her over on her back, and she let out a little squeal. His hand grazed up her inner thigh, and he sucked one luscious nipple into his mouth. As his fingers found their destination, he murmured “Contact” against her skin, determined to wind her up like a propeller at take-off. She moaned and pressed herself into his hand.

He wanted to take her as high as she could go, pushing the limits of pleasure and sensation. How far could she go? How long could he keep her afloat? When she was on the verge, he replaced fingers with lips and tongue, sucking hard on her pulsing nub. Her whole body shuddered with the force of her release, and he held on as she rode it out, never slowing his pace.

Making her come once wasn’t enough. He wanted more. He wanted everything she had. Unrelenting, he kept up his tender torture, his cock twitching back to life as she writhed beneath him. She clutched his hair. The intoxicating smell of her musk drew him on as he tantalized her tender flesh.

“Oh, Ernie, It’s too much!”

“Too much or not enough?”

“Oh…oh…oh!”

If she could form words, he needed to take her higher. He wanted her gasping and dizzy with need. How far would the roaring engine of her desire push her lithe frame?

Inserting one finger then another into her, he felt the pulsation of another release building.