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“We don’t have time,” Bellamy said, breaking the kiss to press his forehead to mine. “We will be landing soon.”
“Then you better bring your A-game,” I said, grinding my hips up against him, feeling the proof of how badly he needed the release as well.
“Shawn…” he grumbled, but his hips rocked against my movements.
“Now,” I demanded, grabbing at the waistband of his pants, undoing the button and zip, then impatiently yanking them down his hips. He didn’t fight or object, just let me undress him before sitting back on his heels, reaching for my pants and panties, then pulling them off me.
There was a short pause as he grabbed a condom and rolled it on before his body was over mine again, and my legs were wrapping around his waist, pulling him tight as his cock glided inside me.
Yes, glided.
He didn’t slam or thrust.
It wasn’t hard like that.
It was, like the kiss, like the spooning beforehand, softer and sweeter.
Which I never would have thought I’d enjoy, but I swear I felt every inch of him stretching me as he slid inside me, as he settled deep. And I’d never quite felt so, I don’t know, ‘claimed’ before as I did right then.
Bellamy’s lips sealed to mine again as he started to rock into me, a slow, barely-there motion that should have made it take forever for me to start reaching for that orgasm. But, somehow, thanks to the unexpected intimacy, or to the rush to get the deed done before the descent, or, hell, even the fact that I’d never had sex on a plane before, had me barreling toward that edge faster than I would have thought possible.
My walls tightened around him, making Bellamy let out a low groan as he kept thrusting through the orgasm as it crashed through me. Eventually, I took him with me, leaving both of us panting and boneless, trying to catch our breaths and slow our heartbeats.
Until the pilot came over the speaker, warning us to strap in for landing.
We rushed back into our clothes to get into our seats.
From there, we landed, then climbed out onto a private airstrip in the middle of freaking nowhere.
“Ah… what the hell?” I asked, looking around.
“Precisely,” Bellamy said, pressing a hand to my lower back, walking me down the runway to, well, nowhere.
“This is… a lot of nature,” I said, looking around at trees and mountains. “I didn’t peg you as a nature guy.”
“Which is why it is the perfect place for me to disappear should the situation call for it,” Bellamy said as I shifted my bag higher up on my shoulder. He was rolling his two bags behind him, a constant whirring sound on the pavement.
“Do you know where you’re going?” I asked half an hour later when we just seemed to be walking blindly in the woods.
We couldn’t exactly turn around.
I’d heard the plane take back off again not long after we got off the runway.
“I have vague memories of walking in this direction,” Bellamy said, giving me a sheepish smile.
“Tell me you’re joking,” I grumbled, pulling to a stop. “Tell me I am not camping out in the woods with the fucking bears and mountain lions.”
“You forgot coyotes, wolves, lynx, and moose. Oh, and wolverines.”
“Wolverines? Where the fuck are we?” I demanded, looking behind Bellamy like one of those animals might be following us as we spoke.
“Montana,” he said, shrugging.
“Montana. With no food and no shelter.”
“I should have known this was about your stomach,” Bellamy said, giving me a smile. “Here,” he said, reaching for my shoulders, turning me so that my back was to his front, then stepping me to the side about ten feet until I saw a small clearing.
And a cabin.
It was a simple brown chalet-style house with a big, pointed front with giant windows to let the wilderness in, an oversized front porch, and two floors.
By Bellamy’s usual standards, it wasn’t a big place.
But it was definitely secluded.
And big enough for the two of us.
Though not big enough if I decided I was sick of him and wanted to get the hell away from him for some peace.
A little voice in the back of my head was reminding me that I clearly liked being around him much more than I cared to admit.
We made our way to his cabin, and he let himself inside with a key he dug out of his bag.
The inside wasn’t a whole lot to write home about. Again, especially by Bellamy’s ostentatious standards.
The walls were white and bare, the floors wood, and the concept was open so that the small living room led into the kitchen that had a loft over top of it.
There was a hallway to the side of the kitchen where there was a bathroom, a storage closet, and a pantry. Which was stocked full of food.
