Page 21 of Hidden Desires

“Not unless you count praying.”

She lets the yoke rest and turns to me, her face close enough that I can see every detail— the little flecks in her iris, the pink at the tip of her nose.

“Show me how to fly it,” she says.

I wedge in behind her curvy form, hands on her shoulders, and lean down so my lips brush her ear. “The trick is, you never really control the aircraft” I say. “You just nudge it in the direction you want to go, and hope the wind doesn’t fuck you up.”

She shivers when I say it, and for a second, I’m not sure if it’s arousal, excitement, or both. She glances back at me, mouth parted.

“Sounds familiar,” she says, voice a little breathless.

I want to kiss her, right here, with her legs splayed and her hands on the throttle. But instead, I help her out of the seat, gripping her waist a little tighter than necessary.

We end up at the last display: a battered simulator, the kind that costs more than a luxury car and runs on software older than either of us. I dig the key out of my pocket and flip the switch; the thing powers up with a whine and a flicker of ancient LEDs.

Eliza perches on the edge of the seat, eyeing the console. “Are you going to teach me to fly for real?”

“If you want.”

She smiles sweetly. “Yes, definitely. Strap me in, Commander.”

There’s something naughty about the way she says those words, or is it just my imagination? Nonetheless, I take her hand, wrap the webbed harness around her torso, and buckle her in. The belt cinches under her chest, compressing those big tits until I have to look away or do something criminal. My fingers brush the bare skin of her collarbone, and she catches my wrist, holding it in place.

“Jack,” she says in a flirtatious tone, “am I making you nervous?”

I growl in my throat. “No, not at all, sweetheart. Just trying to do this right.”

“But is there a right way to what we’re doing?” She looks up at me, and in the low glow of the monitor, her skin glows gold.

“I’m not sure,” I admit. “But if there is, I’ll find it.”

For a second, neither of us moves. The silence is heavy, but not uncomfortable. I rest my hands on her shoulders, then slide them down her arms, feeling the tension in her muscles. She lets me, her body soft, open, ready.

“Start the program,” she says softly. “Show me what it’s like.”

I punch a few buttons, the display blips to life, and the simulated world appears: clouds, horizon, instrument readout. I guide her hands to the controls, showing her how to pull up, bank left, level out.

She’s a quick study. Her touch is tentative at first, then stronger, more confident.

“Can I crash?” she asks.

“Not in here,” I say. “But I’ll catch you if you do.”

She looks over her shoulder. “Promise?”

“Promise,” I say, and this time I don’t bother holding back. I bend down, press my mouth to the slim length of her neck, and taste her skin—salt, perfume, a sweetness that’s all her own. She doesn’t freeze, doesn’t shy away. Instead, she lets go of the yoke and reaches up, fingers tangling in my hair, pulling me closer.

I take it slow. My hands bracket her ribcage, and I can feel her heart hammering through the thin fabric of her dress. She turns in the seat, twists to face me, and her lips find mine. It’s soft, hesitant at first, but then she bites down—just enough to make me grunt.

“Is this what you want, Jack?” she whispers.

I’m a grown man. I should be able to say no, keep a lid on it, but I’ve had enough of saying no to the things I want.

I kiss her back, hard, tongue slipping between her lips as her arms snake around my neck. She moans into my mouth, and the sound goes straight to my cock. I unbuckle Eliza’s seatbelt, drag her out of the simulator, and then spin her so she’s sitting on the plane’s wing, legs spread around my hips.

Her thighs grip me. I grind against her, the friction exquisite through the layers of clothing. Yet she’s warm and trembling beneath me, her big breasts pressed up against the hard wall of my chest.

“Eliza,” I warn. “If we keep going, I’m not going to be able to stop.”