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He caressed my legs as I came down from my high, but he continued to blow torturous, wet kisses between my thighs. Then I lost count. One mind-shattering orgasm blended with the next, and I lost my voice. My muscles wouldn't still, my entire body convulsed again and again.
“Gillian?” he asked when I’d finally stopped shaking.
“Yes?” I didn’t even attempt to stand up. I simply looked up at the clock above the bookcase, gasping when I saw what time it was. Four in the morning.
He fucked me for three hours?
“Are you okay?”
I blinked, unsure of what to say. I was still recovering from bliss. By the time I finally came to, I looked up and found him staring at me.
“Thank you,” he said, a smile in his eyes.
“For fucking you?”
“No.” He slipped his arm behind my back and helped me to my feet. “For the windows and the mail. The latter was actually quite convenient.”
“You’re welcome.”
He led me back into the living room where he’d placed my blue overnight bag and strawberry shampoo onto the coffee table.
“Is there anything else you have hidden here?”
I shook my head.
“Are you sure?” He tilted my chin up with his fingertips. “Because I’ll be making sure you’re never able to get inside of here again.”
“I’m sure.”
His fingers left my skin and I felt disconnected.
“Where do you actually live?” he asked.
“Don’t worry about it,” I said, grabbing my things. “I’ll have my roommate pick me up.”
“That’s not why I was asking.” He prevented me from walking to the front door and led me down a hall and to what appeared to be a closet.
Taking a key out of his pocket, he unlocked the door and I realized it was a small elevator.
“I had this installed years before your housekeeping company was contracted to work here,” he said, pulling me inside.
“So, why don’t you ever leave this open so you won’t have to use the public elevator?”
“It’s only operable from the inside.” He hit the only button on the pad. “And since my unit isn’t rented like the others, I didn’t want strangers being able to access my apartment from below. Although, it seems like I encountered that problem anyway.”
I blushed and the doors glided shut. He stared at me as the car descended down, making me yearn for his touch all over again.
“I have a question,” I said. “How did you know I wasn’t really a pilot?”
“Simple.” He smiled. “Any real pilot would’ve jumped at the chance to talk about flying. I wouldn’t have had to ask you anything beyond commercial or private. You would’ve waxed poetic for at least five minutes.”
Very true... “I take it you’ve met a few pilots in your life?”
“You could say that.”
The elevator stopped at the ground level and he walked me to the curb where a driver and a black SUV were waiting. The lettering underneath the door handle read, New York’s #1 Private Driver Service.
“They’ll take you home and charge the fee to me,” he said.
“Thank you.” I climbed inside and set my things on the seat.
He looked at me as if he wanted to say something more, as if he wanted to taste me one last time. Instead, he pushed the strap of my dress back onto my shoulder and let his fingers linger against my skin for a few seconds before shutting the door.
“Where to, Miss?” The driver looked at me through the rearview mirror.
“Brooklyn,” I said. “16 Hampton Street.”
He gave me a slightly confused look, but he sped off toward the borough.
I turned my head toward the window, noticing Jake was no longer there.
As the car rolled over the city’s potholes, my bare ass slid across the seat—reminding me that he’d never returned my panties. Leaning back against the headrest, I shut my eyes as my nipples hardened, as I thought about the way he’d both harshly and gently bit them in turn. I knew it’d be a very long time before I met another man who could ever have such an effect on me, a long time before someone else could ever live up to that level of sex.
I caught the time on the car’s dashboard and realized I never told Meredith that I was leaving the party. I pulled out my phone and saw she’d called me four times, sent two “Where the hell are you?” texts, and left a voicemail, so I sent her a response.
GILLIAN: YOU OWE ME a hundred dollars.
Gillian: 7 stars.
GATE A5
JAKE
New York (JFK)—> Dubai (DXB)
“YOU SURE YOU WANT TO completely cancel your housekeeping services, Mr. Weston?” The manager sounded confused. “Even after we’ve both concluded that nothing strange has been happening?”
“Absolutely.” I hung up and poured myself a shot of bourbon, the fourth one I’d had since escorting Gillian out of the building. Tossing it back, I gritted my teeth as the liquor burned its way down my throat.
