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es my dress to my hips, parting my legs and driving himself deep inside me, his possession a fierce, hot blade of need. I cry out, arching my back, reaching behind me for the pillows.
We have made love slowly, sensually, and then hungrily, but we have not made love like this. This is pure, primal, animalistic sex. His body devours mine. Every thrust is a mark upon my soul, the sounding of a bell that we both must answer.
I barely recognise my own wild cries in the cabin and my nails drag down his side and then I’m pushing up, scrambling to a sitting position, pushing at his chest to roll us so that I’m on top of him. He groans as I move, finding my own tempo, swirling my hips so his cock reaches where I need it to. His hands cup my breasts, his fingers splayed, possessive and wide, over my flesh and then he pushes to sitting so he can take a nipple in his mouth, and he’s so much deeper I cry out. My orgasm is instant, the release intense. I roll my hips and tilt my head back, staring at the cabin ceiling with its delicate network of star lights pricked in the plastic.
He moves his mouth to my other breast and I’m falling apart again. He thrusts inside me and I push down, pleasure a wave carrying me high on its crest. He holds me tight and then I am aware of nothing but the fierceness of my own explosion as he pushes into me and loses control of his own desire, succumbing to the same desperate longing that has me in its thrall.
His mouth lifts to mine and his kiss is as intense as what we just shared; his kiss is a mark of his ownership of me. And in some ways he does own me. No matter what I become, where I live; no matter who I one day meet and settle down with, Michael Brophy will always be my first lover. A man to whom all others are compared. A premonition of regret dances down my spine—what if I really have let him ruin me for all other men?
Obviously, I’m just being melodramatic. Michael Brophy is hot, sure, and sex with him is out of this world, but deep down I know that sex between two people who love one another must always be on another playing field. Surely the genuine emotional intimacy of a committed couple makes it better somehow, right?
Only half reassured, I pull away from him and flop back onto the bed. My skin is lightly sheened in perspiration and no wonder. My blood seems to be boiling me from the inside out.
‘I could get used to this.’ The words don’t mean anything but, the second I say them, I wish I could retract them.
He doesn’t answer, and I purposely don’t look at him. Silence stretches around us, not full of lust now—full of something else. Awkwardness, on my part.
‘Sex, I mean.’
More silence.
‘I don’t mean sex with you. Sex in general.’
Great. That sounds...stupid.
I lift my hands up and cover my face and his strong wrists wrap around me, loosening my grip, exposing my eyes to his.
‘I know.’
He’s watching me so intently and my insides quiver under the force of his attention. I reach for my dress, smoothing it down. He watches with a furrowed brow and then reaches out, lacing his fingers through mine.
‘The memory of your mouth on my cock is a memory that will drive me wild until I’m an old man, Millie.’
Pleasure unfurls inside me. Shyness too. ‘Why did you stop me?’
His voice is hoarse. ‘Because I was about to come.’
‘Isn’t that a good thing?’
His eyes narrow a little and he leans forward, pressing a kiss against my mouth. I sigh, so perfectly happy in that moment that my heart trembles. ‘Yes. It’s a very good thing. But it’s also not something you’re ready for.’
‘Says who?’ I smile at him.
He lifts a brow. ‘Me.’
‘And you know everything?’
‘I think we should take your education slowly.’
‘Oh, but Mr Brophy,’ I tease, ‘I’ve always been a fast learner and an A plus student.’
His laugh is throaty. ‘That’s abundantly clear.’
And yet his concern touches something inside me. He was looking out for me, my comfort. Protecting me.
‘Is it always like this?’
The powerful airplane hits some turbulence and rocks a little. Oddly, for someone who’s a pretty bad flyer, the sensation, while lying down, is strangely pleasing. Or maybe that’s having Michael leaning over me, his face just inches above mine.
