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He’s actually going along with this. And my mother taught Leo and me how to play gin rummy when we were five years old. “Sure,” I say. “Shoes count as one.”
“You’re on,” he says. “Shuffle up and deal.”
I look around the cabin. “Where are the cards?”
“You didn’t bring any?”
“Of course I didn’t—” From the grin on his face, he knew this was how he’d trap me from the very beginning. Even if I carried playing cards in my purse on a regular basis, they’d be stranded back in our kitchen. And my jeans are tight enough that he can tell I’m not hiding a deck in my pockets.
I cross my arms and sit back in my chair, staging a pout.
Which lasts about as long as it takes for Trap to bend down and close his hands around my ankles. One sharp tug, and I’m sliding across the leather seat. He shifts his hands, and he’s caged me on his lap.
“Got any other ideas about how we can pass the time?” he asks.
His fingers are already doing disturbing things beneath my top, and part of me is grateful that I went with the no-buttons option. Another part of me is painfully aware that there’s a flight attendant just the other side of the bulkhead, and she might decide to refill our champagne flutes at any moment.
“Trap…” I start, but he reads my mind. Again.
His fingers lace between mine, and he leads me toward the back of the plane, to the room outfitted as his office. As the door clicks shut behind us, I protest again. “They’ll know exactly what we’re doing in here!”
“You think I give a fuck?”
He’s standing behind me, but he already has the button undone at my waist. One arm folds across my belly, pulling me close to his chest. The back of his wrist presses against my zipper as he slips a finger past my soaked panties. I’m ready for him, little flutters already swirling deep, and the smirk on his face says he knows it.
But I try to preserve some sense of decorum. “We can’t,” I say. “Not here.”
He finds the hard button of my clit and strokes it between the narrow V of his index and middle fingers. “What?” he asks after laughing at my gasp. “You’d rather do this in the john?”
I’m supposed to protest. I’m supposed to say we can’t do this at all. But the pressure of three fingers plunging inside me makes me forget the English language.
“Ready to join the Mile High Club, Princess?”
I’m ready to parachute out the back of the plane, if that’s what he commands, if that’s the tradeoff for keeping his hand between my thighs. He bends his head, moving his lips dangerously close to my ear. I hear him breathing, hard and fast, before his teeth close tight on my lobe.
The love bite makes my knees buckle. I’d fall to the floor if Trap didn’t have one arm folded around my belly. His laugh is wicked as he walks us toward his desk.
“Hands on the blotter,” he says.
I obey instantly, planting my palms on the leather surface. He responds by pulling his fingers out of my eager pussy, and I can’t keep from whining at the loss.
“You’re the one who’s so worried about the people outside,” he says. “One more sound out of you, and I stop.”
He waits for me to nod, to accept the rules of his game. Then his hands are firm on my waist. He pulls my khakis to my knees. He kicks my feet as wide as my pants will let him.
“Don’t move those hands,” he warns. “Or I’ll stop.”
I spread my fingers wide, anchoring myself on the desk. I hear him work his own zipper, and I feel the tip of his erection against my bare bottom.
“On your tiptoes,” he demands. “Or I’ll stop.”
I rise up on my toes, knowing that will push the curve of my ass toward his cock. His palm smooths my flesh, a lingering caress, and I catch myself just before I purr my need.
He sinks into me, filling my pussy from behind. His cock is hard and heavy and he must be close to coming because he plants one urgent hand on my hip and the other on the back of my neck.
He pulls out slowly, teasing all my deep muscles. I don’t want to lose him, don’t want him to leave me, so I push back from the desk. My hands don’t move. I stay on my toes. But I shift my ass back, following him like I’m under his spell.
The next time he drives home, his fingers leave my hip to pinch my aching clit. The sensation makes me catch my breath. My calves stretch. My shoulders stiffen. But I don’t break his rules.
