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He sets a rhythm then, steady, pounding. My inner walls grip him, conveying all the things I’m not allowed to say out loud. I catch my lower lip between my teeth, sparking a pain that merges with his heat, that blends with his power.
Before I know I’m ready, I’m teetering on the edge of a cliff. We’re miles high in the plane, but I’m soaring higher than that, riveted in place, reduced to the tight wet channel between my thighs, to the steel-hard wires that link my clit to my savaged lip, to my trembling palms, to my arched and aching toes.
He fills me again, my perfect match and I need him to release me, I need him to say the word, but he doesn’t tell me I can come and I can’t do it I can’t break free I can’t reach the one thing I need more than air more than light more than life if he’ll just say it I’ll be his forever—
“Please,” I moan, the word slipping past my craving soul.
He pulls out and steps away.
I whirl to face him. My heels are flat on the floor. My hands reach for his slick, hard cock.
“Trap…”
“Rules, Princess.”
I take a step toward him, prepared to beg. “Please,” I say again. This time I’m fully conscious that I’m saying the word.
His hand closes around his cock. His fingers work the way mine long to do. One stroke. Two. Three.
His face freezes and his grip grows even tighter. His cock pulses. Thick milk coats his hand, shooting onto the floor between us.
When he’s finished, he reaches past me, plucking some tissues from a leather box on his desk. He wipes his palm clean. Swipes at his fingers. Takes a pass at the shimmering cream on the utilitarian carpet. Tosses the mess into a trashcan beside the desk.
Zipped up, shirt tucked back in, he’s at the door while I’m still stunned.
“I’ll meet you back at our seats,” he says. My cry of protest only makes him laugh. “Think of it this way, Princess. I gave you a bit of distraction. You forgot how much you want to know our destination.” Still smiling, he exits the office, closing the door behind him.
I could finish myself off. It wouldn’t take much, just a few steady swipes from fingers that are already trembling—with lust, maybe, or anger. Something related to adrenaline.
But I somehow suspect that if I go into the cabin with my hands smelling like my aching pussy, there’ll be another penalty to pay. After all, Trap warned me about the rules.
I pull up my pants. I straighten my top. And just as I take my seat in the cabin, the pilot makes an announcement: We’ve begun our descent and should be on the ground in fifteen minutes.
I consider raising one of the window shades to see where Trap has taken me. But that’s a rule too. And I’m still too close to the aching edge of need to risk more punishment, with the evening and the night still stretching ahead of us.
“Cheer up, Princess,” Trap says with the grin of a man who got the release he needed. “We’ll be there soon enough.”
19
TRAP
* * *
Sawyer Best’s men are moving into position, executing a plan they’ve had only days to perfect. They will determine our future.
But these are the things I want to remember forever: Alix’s laughter as she tried to tease our destination from me with a game of fucking cards. Alix’s determination to be a good girl, to follow my rules. Alix’s frustration as I kept my word, knowing the next time I feel her clutch around me will be a thousand times sweeter for denying her this once because she’s mine. All mine.
And I want to remember the look on her face as our dark-windowed limo finally pulls up to a nondescript door in a featureless wall with a single sign printed with anonymous letters:Please ring bell for admittance.
“Go ahead,” I say, gesturing toward the doorbell.
The look she gives me is part laughter, part question, part fear of the unknown. But she trusts me. She presses the smooth black button.
The door opens before she can step back. The man who greets us is dressed like a fancy English gentleman who’s heading out to the horse races—morning coat, waistcoat, snow-white shirt with upturned collar, and a perfectly knotted black tie. He’s got a closely trimmed beard and short red hair. His hand, which he extends to shake, is encased in a white silk glove.
“Mr. Prince!” he exclaims. “We’ve been expecting you. I’m Cody Samuelson and it’s my great pleasure to welcome you to the most magical place on earth!”
He opens the door wide, ushering us into a reception area swamped with turquoise and gold. I gesture for Alix to go first. She pauses just inside, her eyes as bright as a little girl’s doll. “Disney World?” she asks me.
