Page 36 of Stalked By Raiden

The first-class cabin is hushed, the lights dimmed for the long flight ahead. I sink into the plush leather seat beside Raiden, still marveling that Royal bought these tickets and refused to discuss it. And the way the world seems to open up before us now that we are together.

After takeoff, Raiden reaches for my hand. “I have a confession.”

“Oh?”

“I spent the first five minutes wondering if River was hiding somewhere on the plane.”

I burst into laughter. “You really don’t trust them.”

He smiles. “I trust them. I just don’t trust their sense of humor.”

I lean my head against his shoulder. The steady rhythm of the engines fills the comfortable silence between us. I haven’t been back to Ireland since my parents died, and the thought of sharing it with Raiden fills me with a nervous excitement that has my leg bouncing against the seat.

Raiden notices, of course. His hand comes to rest on my knee, stilling me, and his thumb traces small circles against my inner thigh. “Excited?” he asks, his voice low.

“Nervous,” I admit. “Happy. Both.”

He smiles, that rare, genuine smile that transforms his face from beautiful to breathtaking. “Good.”

A few minutes later, once the seatbelt sign has dinged off and the flight attendants have retreated, Raiden stands. He reaches for my hand, pulling me to my feet with a gentle but insistent tug.

“Raiden,” I whisper, glancing around the nearly empty cabin. “What are you doing?”

He leans close, his breath warm against my ear, and what he says makes my face flame. “Checking something off our list, Freckles. Remember that bucket list we made in Destin? The one with all the things we wanted to try together?”

My blush deepens, spreading down my neck and chest as realization dawns. The mile high club.

“Are you ready?” he asks, his voice a dark promise. “Ready to be very, very quiet for me?”

I nod, my mouth dry, my heart hammering against my ribs. He leads me toward the lavatory, and I’m even more grateful for Royal’s gift because this bathroom is larger than any I’ve seen on a plane. Raiden locks the door behind us, and then his hands are on me.

He lifts my dress up over my hips, to my waist, and drags it up to my chest to bare me to him. I’m wearing the lingerie he chose for me this morning, a thin mesh bra that leaves nothing to the imagination, and his eyes darken as he takes me in.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs.

And then his mouth is on my breast, sucking my nipple through the sheer fabric, his tongue hot and wet against the sensitive peak. I gasp, my hands flying to his shoulders, and he pulls back just enough to meet my eyes.

“Quiet,” he warns, his voice rough with authority. “You make a sound, I stop. Understand?”

The threat sends a pulse of heat straight to my core, and I feel myself growing wetter. My body responds to his command even as I bite my lip and nod. He reaches into his pocket, produces a silk scarf, and my eyes widen as he presses it against my mouth.

“I wanted to use it at home. But I guess it’s come in handy,” he says, his smile feral. “Bite down.”

I obey, tasting the silk, feeling the vulnerability of being gagged in a public place, at thirty thousand feet, where anyone could hear us if I’m not careful. The risk sends adrenaline singing through my veins.

Raiden drops to his knees before me. His hands slide up my thighs, hooking into the waistband of my thong. He drags it down my legs, helping me step out of it. Then he’s there, his mouth on me, his tongue delving into my folds with slow, deliberate strokes.

I bite down hard on the silk, my hands gripping the small sink behind me for support. He licks and nips me patiently, and just as everything in me starts to gather and tighten, he stops. Pulls back. Wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and rises to his full height. The look he gives me says he felt exactly how close I was and took it away on purpose.

He takes my face in his hands, kisses me deep and thorough, and I taste myself on his tongue, musky and intimate. Then he’s turning me around, pressing my chest against the cool mirror, his hand between my shoulder blades.

“Arch your back,” he orders. “Let me see you.”

I obey, feeling the cool air against my heated skin, the vulnerability of my position. He gathers my wrists behind me, shackling them with one strong hand. And I feel the restraint like a brand, the loss of control that I’ve learned to trust him with completely.

He frees himself with his other hand, then he’s there, pressing against my entrance. He drives into me in one deep thrust that has my mouth opening around the gag in a silent scream. He fills me completely, stretching me perfectly.

He stills for a moment, his forehead pressed against my shoulder, his breathing ragged.