Fly Me Home: Home is Where the Heat Is, Book 4 Page 4

  “Before you get too comfortable, we’ll need protection.”

  One hand snaked around her neck, and he pulled her in close for a scorching kiss. In the next moment, he had her standing, and was backing her up, his lips never leaving hers. Her back bumped a hard surface, but he didn’t let up. He sucked and nibbled at her lips as he fumbled through a drawer. She broke away and laughed. “This might be easier if I wait over there.”

  He kissed her in response and guided her back toward the chair. When he sat again, pulling her down with him, she went willingly, somewhat relieved that he hadn’t taken her up on her suggestion. Keeping the heat going helped her stay in the moment. If she had any time to really think about what she was doing, she’d probably change her mind.

  When his hands pulled her robe tie free, she laughed at her previous thought. Who was she kidding? She wanted this. Bad.

  Ian shifted until there was a little space between them. “I want you to put the condom on for me. I’m going to give you exactly what you asked for, but the only way we’ll get you there is if you’re an active participant.”

  She took the foil package, trying to hide the way her fingers shook. “What do you mean?”

  He slid his hands up her inner thighs and held her close as he shifted his hips. “Desire isn’t a one-person job. You have to touch, taste and take what you want. Denying yourself makes it that much harder to enjoy what’s being offered.”

  Liz bit her lip and tore the wrapper open. Reaching for the tie to his robe, she pulled it free slowly, anticipating what his body would look like, how it would feel to touch him. There wasn’t even a hint of shyness in his gaze when she pushed the fabric aside. With good reason. He was sculpted, his trim waist arrowed down to the swollen erection trapped beneath her.

  The second she started rolling the condom over his cock, he slammed his head back against the chair. “Fuck.”

  In that instant, she understood what he meant. Watching him find pleasure in her touch, knowing his cock was reacting the way it was because of her, was intoxicating. His throat worked convulsively, the strain of his muscles evident.

  She barely noticed his fingers slipping her robe free until her arms were trapped in the soft, thick jumble of layers. She looked at him, and the way his gaze moved over her body sent another rush of heat straight to her center. His eyes were half-mast, his nostrils flared, lips parted. Grabbing her hips, he shifted her until her pussy spread over his cock. Stroking her along his length, he guided and adjusted until she moaned. “Show me what feels the best.”

  His grip loosened fractionally, and Liz grabbed the top of the chair. Shifting until she felt the most pleasurable press against her clit, she started rubbing against him. She was on fire instantly, inhibition dissipating as each second passed.

  “That’s it,” he encouraged. “Find what you need.”

  Riding his cock was amazing. His hands were everywhere, rough then gentle, always guiding her, helping her closer to something more than she’d ever experienced. But it wasn’t enough. She rocked her hips hard and fast but the build began to wane.

  Ian pulled her close and kissed her hard, his other hand holding her hip so she couldn’t pull away. When he broke away, he met her gaze. “You need a cock or a tongue.”

  The statement made her pussy clench. She nodded, frustrated and excited at once. “Help me.”

  “Touch yourself.”

  The demand was so foreign she almost refused. Doing it herself was one thing, doing it so someone else could see was—wrong. Before she could think of an excuse not to, he grabbed her hand, sucked her middle finger deep into his mouth and then guided it to her clit. “I’m going to fuck you while you play with yourself. Don’t be shy. Do it however it feels right. Pretend I’m not even here.”

  “Yeah right,” she choked.

  Then he was lifting her, lowering her onto his cock slowly. For a long moment, feeling the sensual, full press of his cock entering her, she forgot to breathe, let alone touch herself. His hand closed over her wrist. “Don’t stop. You started to shut down. I don’t know why, but you need to let go of everything else right now and just concentrate on us. I could come right now. You’ve got me so wound up, I wish I could bend you over this chair and fuck you from behind until you screamed that it was too much.”

  His heated words created a little magic and she pressed her finger against her clit to ease the ache. His hand guided hers until she was rubbing faster, mimicking the upward thrusts of his cock. “That’s it, baby. I can’t tell you how hot it is to watch you touch yourself. It makes your pussy so wet and easy to slide in and out of.”

  Dirty talk wasn’t her thing, but Ian had an amazing grasp on keeping-her-in-the-now talk. Knowing how she made him feel was as intoxicating as having his cock deep inside her. It rivaled the pleasure she experienced by touching herself when her sexual encounters from the past would have benefitted from this addition. Wanting to return some of the pleasure she was experiencing, she kissed him. “You feel amazing, Ian.”

  “Focus, baby,” he demanded. Then he was reaching between them, moving her hand aside to replace her finger with his thumb. “I think you’re too shy to do it yourself this time. Maybe after I jerk off for you sometime, you’ll feel more comfortable. For now, tell me where it feels the best. I could spend hours trying to find the right spot, but I think you’d like to come sooner than later.”

  He was right. She wanted the end game more than he could imagine. Her body was drawn tight, but there was a nagging devil trying to pull her out of the moment, and she didn’t know how to refuse it. He shifted until he was buried deep and held still. Rubbing his thumb over her clit, he stared at her. “Left? Right? Higher? Lower?”

  “Lower,” she breathed, unprepared for the shock of his heated touch. He followed her directives and between his cock and his touch, she found herself panting, throwing out directions until she was ready to scream with the frustration of being so close yet so far.

  That’s when Ian stopped touching her and placed her hand at her crotch again. “Now you’re ready. You stop touching, I stop fucking.”

  Her clit was so swollen it took a minute to find the right spot. Once she did, it was heaven. The deep thrusts of his cock. The perfect strokes of her own finger knowing what she needed. His mouth closed over one of her nipples, sucking lightly, teasing in gentle strokes. The combo punch was too much, and she felt the first, brilliant tremors in her pussy. Like a knot forming, her insides tightened almost painfully.

  “Faster,” Ian groaned. “Don’t stop.”

  Liz stroked quicker, rubbing her clit the way she only did in her most private moments, when she imagined a good stiff cock slamming into her and a hard body crushing her close. God she didn’t want it to stop, but she had to come. A guttural groan filled the cabin. She wasn’t sure if it was her voice or his as the waves of release broke inside her. All she knew was the pleasure-pain tsunami that shot up through her insides and clutched her stomach in a vicious grip.

  She wasn’t one hundred percent certain that Ian came. Before now, it had always been about the man’s pleasure. All she knew this time was that he continued to pump his thick cock into her, his words hot and sexy, until she was too sensitive to take any more.

  Collapsing against him, she shuddered. Trying to catch her breath and ease the rush of deafening blood in her ears, she pulled in a deep breath. “That was really kinda great.”

  He nuzzled her chin, his body sweaty and hot. “I think great might be an understatement in this case, but we’ll have to do it again later to find out for sure.”

  Liz laughed, pressing her forehead to his. “I’ll take you up on that, much later.”

  “I’m going to hold you to that.” He slapped her bottom gently. “Right now, I think it’s time to do some shopping.”

  “Wow,” she teased. “You really know how to sweet talk a girl, don’t y
ou?”

  Chapter Five

  Ian tried to make the—clean up/afterglow/regret glance—process as simple as possible for Elizabeth. She’d blown his mind when she’d finally let go and accepted what her body had been begging for. Her certain brand of reserved and old-fashioned was an enigma he’d never encountered, and something about the way she always acted like a lady, even in the vise clamp of a great orgasm, had him reeling.

  He’d tied his robe moments before she came back from the bathroom, and since her robe was tied tight again, he figured he’d made the right decision. She needed time, even if all he wanted was to take the offending article away and demand that she sit with him naked. They had many more sexual tastes to discover, and he was willing to wait her out. Instead of pushing, he patted the seat next to him. She’d been so tense before and after their sexual encounter, he needed to give her some sort of escape. “Let’s shop.”

  “I appreciate your easygoing attitude,” she admitted. “Considering what we just…”

  “Good,” he interrupted, sliding over a bit to give her room. “This is a new experience for both of us, so we’ll tweak the rules as we go. For now, let’s take the easiest route and focus on something mindless.”

  “With incentive like that, how could I, and why the hell would I, want to refuse?” She smiled. “But I feel I should warn you, I have a boot fetish that could potentially drain your bank account.”

  “Bring it on.”

  Her body was stiff as a board when she shimmied onto the seat next to him. There was more than enough room, but the close quarters had them snuggled tight, thigh to thigh, shoulder to shoulder. He flipped through tab after tab of websites hoping an alternate focus would get her to relax. “These are the suppliers who can have your wardrobe ready by the time we land.”

  “You’re shitting me?” Her eyes were wide. “That’s in hours.”

  “I wouldn’t shit ya,” he drawled too loosely in Texan slang. “Yer my favoritest turd.”

  Liz had just taken a sip of her wine and she slapped a hand over her mouth to keep it in. Swallowing hard, she chuckled. “How long were you in Texas?”

  “Obviously a few hours too long if that just came out of my mouth.” He scowled. What the fuck? “Ignore it. We need to choose some colors.”

  Ian launched into a drawn-out explanation about the colors and styles that might fit her best. As he talked, she began to relax. He poured her another glass of wine and kept her busy. Soon, she settled in more comfortably and started pointing out outfits she liked. He tried to steer her toward styles that would flatter her body. She snuggled in closer the longer they surfed. He convinced her to try a few ensembles he thought she’d look amazing in, and helped her accessorize and match other outfits until they’d put together a sharp wardrobe.

  Setting the iPad aside, he took a long sip of his wine. “You weren’t kidding when you said you liked boots.”

  “I’m sorry.” She yawned hugely. “Did I buy too much?”

  “You didn’t even scratch the surface. I ordered more than you know.” He looped an arm around her shoulders and tucked her in closer to his side. “I think we have fourteen outfits. By day three you’ll have worn four or five of them.”

  “That’s insane,” she cried. “Who changes two or three times a day?”

  “Everyone who’s everyone in Milan, my dear.” He shifted into full-on fashion mode. The more he talked the more she seemed to relax. She asked questions and listened, her eyes heavy.

  When he took a breath from answering her numerous questions, she smiled. “Days ago, I never would have believed I’d be enthralled by the fashion industry. Truth is, I always thought it was stick figures in god-awful clothes that a normal person wouldn’t be seen dead wearing.”

  He took a sip of his wine. “And now?”

  “You kind of give it a touch of humanity and realism.” Her voice was soft and sweet. Almost shy. “I like your passion for what you do.”

  Running his fingers down her forehead to her eyelids, he eased them closed. “You need to get some sleep. I can’t have my date worn out with bags under her eyes.”

  She didn’t open her eyes, but her little grin was endearing. “Do you want me to go to bed? You can’t be comfortable.”

  Hitting the button to recline the chair, Ian smiled. “I’d like you to stay right where you are. It’s been a while since I felt this at ease. It’s nice to have company.”

  “Yeah. It is kinda nice.” She yawned again. “My gram always said ain’t nothing like a warm mix o’ honey and whiskey to make a body sleep like a babe.”

  “Which am I, Elizabeth?”

  She nuzzled into his chest. Her gram sounded like the grandma he’d always imagined… He’d let her do all the talking tonight. Her quips of home, family and community were so out of his norm he could listen for hours. She’d grown up in an old Western novel so far as he could tell.

  “Both.” She yawned again, her words low and raspy. “I like it when you call me that. No one else does. It makes me feel—like the person I always wished I could be.”

  She drifted off to sleep. Ian held her tight, watching the tops of the clouds slither by. Everything about her intrigued him. He was fascinated by her thoughts and ways of doing things. He wasn’t sure when his life had become boring and stale. But it had. He felt it more acutely now that Elizabeth was around. With her in his arms, he could forget…

  Maybe even pretend for a while that life was exciting and fun again.

  “Mr. Malcolm, we’ll be landing in thirty minutes.”

  Liz woke with a start.

  She blinked heavily, trying to orient herself. Ian’s warm body was the first thing she remembered, then the previous night came back in toe-curling detail. She glanced up at his handsome face.

  Even in sleep he was gorgeous. His robe had slid open sometime during their nap, as had hers. Their bodies were a tangled mess of soft cloth and bare skin. Her heart rate flared and she tried to breathe slowly to calm it. She wanted to watch him sleep. From the moment she’d met him, he’d been professional, sophisticated and fun. But she never got the feeling she was seeing the real him. She didn’t think he was hiding anything deliberately, just that the real him was buried under the weight of who he had to be in public. Even his story about Jimmy felt rehearsed. Seeing him this relaxed was a treat, and she didn’t want to wake him. A sinful five o’clock shadow darkened his strong jaw, framing his goatee to give him a rugged, earthy look. Much different than the neatly groomed, immaculate person who’d saved her at the benefit, or even the controlled man who’d made her do and feel things she’d never imagined last night.

  Stretching carefully, she peeked out the window. Dark clouds surrounded the plane, and as she watched them float by, she wondered where they were, and what time it was.

  Ian stirred beneath her, his chest rumbling with a low moan. He glanced at his watch. “Looks like it’s nearing showtime.”

  “Meaning?” she asked.

  “We have about two hours from when we land until our first engagement.” He sat the seat up a bit and pulled her close, resting his head on hers. “I’m glad you got some sleep, because you’re going to need all your energy for the kickoff gala when we land tonight.”

  “Tonight?” she parroted. “Shouldn’t it be morning?”

  “Afraid not.” He shook his head. “We flew forward in time baby. It’ll be early evening when we land.”

  Attempting that math was way outside her mental capacities on a normal day. Right now, she had all she could do to stall the panic threatening to take hold. This was about to get real.

  Real didn’t quite cover it. From the second they’d landed she’d been passed from one set of hands to another. Every portion of her body had been plucked, brushed, cleaned, buffed, massaged or trimmed. Three hours later, dressed in a low-cut, open-back nude dress with navy roses patterned
in thick coverage at the chest and waist, she climbed into the limousine with Ian and let out an exhausted sigh.

  She kicked off her high heels immediately and wiggled her toes. The gala had been everything he’d warned her about and more. She’d met an abundance of snobs in every odd outfit imaginable, but a few friendly folks had fallen in love with her thick Texas accent, and she’d been whisked away from Ian time and again. Several people had commented on the “wave” of country taking hold since America’s StyleU magazine had introduced Cash Dillon. She had so many notes and observations saved on her phone she’d be able to write a detailed article just from one night. Taking notes wasn’t easy either. She had to text them or e-mail them to herself because she couldn’t be a reporter in his world. She had to act as his date.

  When Ian had told her it was time to kiss and make a deliciously rumor-rich early exit, she’d been more than ready to go. Now they were on their way to an after party where, Ian had whispered in her ear, the real fun happened.

  He slid onto the seat next to her and waited until the door closed on the flashing media cameras that had followed him through the gala all night. Scooting over, he looped an arm over her shoulders and pulled her in tight against him. “You were fucking amazing.”

  “Really?” She peeked up at him through her lashes. Missy, the petite blonde who’d done her makeup, had thickened her lashes and darkened her eyes until Liz had barely been able to recognize herself in the mirror. “To be honest, I felt like a duck outta water.”

  “No one scared you too much, did they?”

  “No.” Almost true. Most of them had scared her. “There were some big personalities there tonight. What was with the guy in the green?”

  Ian chuckled. “Marciano? He’s harmless but eccentric to extremes. The green tonight was in protest to the earth tones taking fashion week by storm. He caved, even when he protests.”

  “Meaning?” The fashion world spoke a different language, and she’d been lost a good portion of the night. “You realize I know nothing about any of this? I was supposed to do an interview with a homegrown country boy and ask questions about how the fashion world was treating him. Instead, I’m off learning in real time and finding myself pretty well lost.”