No Prince Charming

by Angel Payne

She’d pulled her hair up into a ponytail, which emphasized the angles of her face and the little tilts at the corners of her eyes. Burnished strands trailed down against her cheeks, some dotted with rain drops. Her skin was scrubbed clean of makeup, deepening her beauty a thousand more levels for me. Her eyes seemed darker, her lips softer, her skin creamy and clean, begging for my touch…my kisses. In a violent slam of thought, I realized this was probably how she looked first thing in the morning. I immediately imagined her in my arms, yawning as she awakened…only with a lot less clothing. Certainly not with that overcoat, and with—

  What the hell was she wearing underneath?

  My lips quirked. I was guessing, but her ensemble looked like a matched flannel pajama set. The soft pink fabric was dotted with little purple flowers that matched the tie in her hair. To finish off the ensemble, she’d put on a pair of running shoes, which she now jabbed at the carpet as she took in the plane’s cabin, gaze wide, hands grabbing at opposing elbows.

  She looked so small. So unsure. So confused.

  So perfect.

  Air throttled my lungs at full force. I tried to combat the effect by forming dual fists, realizing too late that appearing like a fire-breathing asswipe wasn’t the best welcome for a woman I’d dragged into the night with a couple of ridiculous notes.

  “You came.”

  Nice going, slick. That’s so much better than the fire-breathing dragon.

  Claire swallowed and wrapped her arms tighter. “I shouldn’t have.”

  My chest constricted. Regret was another feeling I didn’t like to visit very often. I sucked it up and faced the shit, anyway. “Probably not.”

  She scooted forward by a hesitant step. “This is a bad idea.”

  I took one, too. “Probably is.”

  She lifted her head. I willed her gaze to lock with mine. When it did, I returned to the land of stupid and silent again, not ready to limit this moment to words. Her face was full of torment. I should have said something—done something—to alleviate her conflict. All I could manage was the awe of having her back. Seeing her here. Surrendering the miracle to time’s selfish grip simply wasn’t an option.

  “God.” She half-moaned it before breaking our connection, shaking her head. “Look at you!”

  “Why?”

  “Seriously? Now look at me!”

  A wry laugh escaped me. “I haven’t been able to do much else for weeks, baby.”

  She shot back a glare like I’d grown a damn horn. “This isn’t the royal dance at the palace, Killian.”

  “Thank fuck.”

  She ignored my sarcasm. “That means you can’t turn my rags into finery then waltz me out the door, thinking we’re going to leave the world behind.” A sound escaped her, perilously close to a sob, before she added, “It means I can’t consider it, either—and it was really a dumb idea to come—”

  I cut her off with a vicious growl. Before I talked myself out of the feeling, I crossed to her, shoved my hands to the sides of her face and cradled her there, subjecting her to the full force of my glare. I didn’t plan on fucking this up again. Nor would I allow her to. “Your ‘rags’ are the hottest things you’ve ever worn.” I pushed my body closer to hers, purposely sliding my cock against her cleft, grinding against her even harder than I had in the office a few hours ago. “And God help me, dancing’s only the beginning of what I want to do with you.”

  With a brutal sweep, I dipped her whole body back, forcing her to grip my shoulders for balance. A mixture between a moan and a sigh fell out of her while she did, reverberating through my lips as I let them fall to the column of her neck. When I raised her back up, the movement was merely a formality. One of my hands quickly found her thigh, swinging it over so she rode on mine while I ground our bodies tighter, moving in time to the sultry rhythm streaming through the speakers. I never thought I’d be so damn grateful for jazz Muzak in my life.

  “Killian?” She raised a hand while rasping it, scraping her fingernails up the back of my head.

  “Yeah?” I worked to press volume into the reply. She felt incredible in my arms; her arms wrapped around me, her floral scent surrounding me. My blood raced. My nerves zinged. My cock swelled. Every sense in my body opened for her—to her.

  “This—this isn’t waltzing.”

  Her coat finally fell open. I lowered my head to the top button on her pajama top. “And I’m not the goddamn prince.”

  She let out a little mewl, responding to my undulations by rocking her hips in return. And fuck if it wasn’t the sexiest thing with her body encased in those damn pajamas. “So…I don’t have to worry about the clock striking midnight? About having to run back to the pumpkin?”

  I dragged my head up in order to meet her eyes. Hers were heavy-lidded, the irises clouded beneath a golden haze of longing…and lust. Dear fuck, I wanted to kiss her again. And I did. Though the contact was brief, I lingered on, biting at her sweet coral lips with open offerings of my teeth, now bared in a joyous grin.

  “No waltzing,” I finally murmured. “And no clocks. And no pumpkins. And no running.”

  Both her dimples appeared in her cheeks. “Good,” she whispered. “Because God help me, I don’t think I can.”

  Chapter Ten

  Claire

  As Killian groaned in approval and pulled me tighter to him, my nerves and adrenaline battled with disbelief and wonder. Was this really me, bantering with him about pumpkins and waltzes? Was this really him, breathing harder as I ran my fingers up his nape and through his thick, beautiful hair? Was this my body, tingling low in my belly, moistening for him, craving more of his commanding touch? All the answers led to one word, shrouded in my haze of lust.

  Yes.

  “Let’s get you out of this wet jacket.” He ordered it with his devil’s grin—and a panty-melting glint in his eyes. “I’d like to show you the rest of the plane.” While scooting behind me to help with the coat, he added in my ear, “As soon as possible.”

  “There’s more?” My awe was genuine.

  “Oh, yeah. The best part.” He walked back around, taking my hand with a playful wink, dissolving me deeper. I wondered how many people in the corporate world, if any, had seen the playful side of Killian Stone.

  He continued walking me toward the back of the plane. I let my jaw fall, admitting I’d never seen anything like it in my life. I’d only had glimpses of first class, let alone been in a private jet. Rich wood panels replaced the normal white plastic cabinets. Sleek metal trim outlined compartments for storage, accented by matching knobs and inlaid handles.

  But the most glorious sight of all was the man in front of me, dark and tall and perfect in his tailored-to-the-millimeter suit, his steps confident as a king, his warmth alluring as a panther. His elegance reminded me of my own ridiculous state. Despite the command of his handclasp, I winced and hesitated. He stopped, too. I dropped my head to avoid his scrutiny. And if I was honest, to indulge my anxiety.

  He pressed close again, surrounding me with heat. I swore God had replaced one of the man’s vital organs with a furnace.

  “What is it?” He bypassed a questioning tone in favor of an outright demand. “No more stop signs, Claire, remember?”

  “I’m not running,” I protested.

  “No?”

  “No. I’m—I’m embarrassed.”

  A long index finger lifted my chin. “Open up,” he directed softly. When I obeyed, opening my eyes only to be consumed by the midnight depths of his, he pressed, “Why embarrassed?”

  “Earth to Killian Stone?” My attempt at sarcasm backfired into a trembling mess. “I’m standing here in my pajamas, mister. Not even my good ones.”

  His lips twitched. “You have more than one pair of these?”

  “If I hadn’t promised not to bolt on your ass—”

  He stopped me with another kiss that had my toes curling inside my shoes. After he let me breathe again—at least I thought I could—he drenched me with a stare full of pure sed
uction before murmuring, “I have the perfect solution to your dilemma, sweet damsel.”

  After a few more steps, we arrived at the back end of the plane and stopped in front of another door. Killian turned and looked down at me again, beaming even more of his wicked, secretive smile. I gazed back, watching a million thoughts flash through his eyes, including a frisson of uncertainty. For a second, I knew the heady feeling of having power over Killian Stone. It was…bizarre.

  He opened the small door and stood back, letting me enter the private room. My whole body trembled as I stepped forward. A queen-sized bed took up most of the space. It was decorated with luxurious pillows and a downy comforter, all in rich hues of mahogany and chocolate. The space also contained a small dresser and another door, apparently leading to a bathroom and dressing area.

  Everything knotted and pulsed in my stomach…then trailed lower. I kept my composure by taking a deep breath before turning toward Killian. He’d followed me and now stood inches away, hovering as if assuring himself I wouldn’t change my mind. He wrapped an arm around my waist, stabbing his intense gaze down at me before hauling me close. With his other hand, he pulled the tie free from my hair then buried his face in my loosened tresses. I rested my cheek to his chest, letting the pound of his heartbeat resonate through my senses.

  We sighed together. Then moaned. Damn. Damn. He was so hard, so strong, so close, so warm. So here. I rolled my head against him, practically a pleading kitten in my need for more. I didn’t care. Judging from the deep resonance of Killian’s answering groan, he didn’t, either.

  He squeezed me tighter. Tunneled his hand deeper into my hair, tugging gently so my scalp ignited tiny bites of tantalizing pain.

  “I love the way you smell,” he grated.

  In an equally rough surge, he twirled me around then yanked me back against him, fitting our bodies into each other. I gasped as my backside pressed on the long, hard evidence of his desire.

  “I love the way you feel.” He rocked me along his erection, breathing hard in my ear. Heat exploded through my body and roared through my head, an effect that intensified as he reached back and shut the door with a distinct click. My pulse spiked as he returned both hands to my body, trailing warm kisses down my neck while spreading his grasp across my waist.

  “You’re so tiny.” He punctuated the whisper by sinking his teeth into my shoulder, making me cry out in stunned arousal.

  The way he handled me, targeting every bite to render the most carnal reactions from my flesh, plunged my senses deeper into their most primitive state.

  “I could eat you up in one bite, baby.” His tone became rougher. His touch did, too. The crevices on either side of my intimate cleft became two burning paths from the fingers he spread and scraped, teasing my most sensitive nub by massaging the flesh around it. “But I’m not going to. I’m going to savor every lick, every taste, and every sip of you. You’re my special little dessert.” At last he cupped my mound through my clothes, enforcing how much he’d soaked me already. “Goddamn. I’ve never tasted a fairy before…and now I can’t wait to know what every drop of you is like.”

  I leaned my head back on his chest and moaned. “I want you so much…” I ended it with a mortified gasp. My hands flew up to cover my mouth as he chuckled once more. That damn wine. It loosened every ounce of foolish boldness in me. I couldn’t believe the words had spilled out like that.

  He didn’t help my nerves at all by sneaking around to face me again, his steps smooth, his face intent. With a commanding rumble, he pulled my hands from my mouth then held them in front of me, as if preparing me for prayer. Not a bad idea. Maybe divine intervention would keep me from jamming my entire foot into my mouth.

  With both my hands gathered into one of his, he flashed me that Hades-born grin again. My pulse kicked up. It pounded in my throat as I tried to swallow.

  “Now.” He drew the word out, turning the sole syllable into a sensual work of art. I gulped again. If he was going for intense effect, it was working. Brilliantly. “I think it’s time we take care of these pajamas.”

  “Oh,” I squeaked. “Can we—errr—turn out the lights first?”

  He shook his head with slow deliberation before I finished. One of his black brows arched up. Without releasing my hands, he used his free fingers to slip my top button free. He let one finger loiter in the opening, tugging back the fabric to reveal the first flesh of my breasts.

  “Beautiful,” he murmured.

  I, on the other hand, was engaged in some speed math. The pajama top only possessed four original buttons, though the bottom one had gone missing six months ago. I couldn’t bring myself to put it in the Goodwill basket yet. That meant he only had two more buttons to go.

  Correction. One more.

  Killian bent and used his lips on the opening as he freed the next button. I shuddered from the reverent contact of his mouth. When he exposed more skin with the last, he moved his magical lips into that space, too.

  He released my hands so the shirt could slide off my shoulders then down to the floor. I instantly blushed, dunked in embarrassment. Everything I knew about foreplay wasn’t like this. I was used to groping and rushing in the dark. This was so strange and new and—

  Mesmerizing.

  It was the only word to describe the look on his face. His eyes held complete adoration. Their corners showed crinkles of admiration. He even snuck his tongue out, moistening his lips as he emitted a low growl.

  Once more, just for a moment, I had power over him. I closed my eyes, hoping to process the enormity of the feeling. In the end, I settled for simply savoring it.

  “Open your eyes.” His voice was a rough abrasion on the air. “Look at me, Claire.”

  I willingly obeyed. My stare locked with his. My senses rejoiced in how he drank me in like a parched man stumbling on an oasis. “Wow,” he stammered.

  “Good wow or bad wow?”

  We both laughed softly. My reference to that first night in his office was an assurance of shared memory. As the chuckle faded from his lips, he reached out to stroke my nude flesh with both hands. “Good wow,” he grated, thumbing my nipples to attention. While I sucked in a breath at the electrifying contact, he went on, “You’re more beautiful than I ever imagined. How that’s possible, I’ll never know.”

  He lifted both my swells, then tugged at their taut points. I moaned and pressed into his hold, needing more contact. I’d dreamed about this so much, but the reality was far better than my fantasies.

  “Killian,” I blurted. “Ohhh…”

  “Tell me.” Thank God he didn’t command me to look at him again. That possibility had been flung to the land of the impossible. I was drunk on the sensations he surged through me, swaying from them as if I’d downed a dozen bottles of wine.

  “Your hands on me…my God…”

  “Tell me.”

  “It feels so good,” I confessed. “Tingles…and heat…and pressure…damn. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

  “Greedy girl.” He chuckled as I nodded fast in agreement. “Mmmm. Beautiful girl.”

  He pinched harder on my erect tips before rolling them between his fingers, extending my pleasure with the slight pain. He didn’t let up, even while lowering himself to the edge of the bed. Once there, he shifted his hold to my thighs, caging them as he applied his mouth to the same tasks, kissing and licking my nipples until they pouted and throbbed for more. When I writhed against him, certain I couldn’t take more, he added little bites. I gasped as he captured each hard nub between his teeth then pulled gently at the flesh. Then not so gently.

  “Killian! God!” I dug my fingers through his raven hair, holding on for balance. His lips, so talented and hot, zapped jolts of desire from my breasts, down my torso, straight to the core between my legs. A storm raged over my body’s landscape, and its glorious name was Killian.

  “Oh yes, baby…” He kissed his way into the valley between my breasts, officially turning the majority of my body
into mush.

  “Please,” I begged. “My knees are buckling.”

  He looked up and grinned, clearly pleased with himself. Smug, stunning bastard. Nevertheless, his happiness was contagious. Overwhelmed with the feeling, I leaned down and kissed his luscious mouth with all I had. He groaned as I plunged my tongue in, reveling in his spicy masculine taste.

  Within seconds, I started thrusting in and out, emulating what I yearned for him to do with other parts of his body. In this position, filled with all this lust and need, I was finally able to forget Killian the CEO, Killian the public figure, even Killian the half-jerk who’d flung my senses on the weirdest emotional roller coaster of my life. He was simply Killian the man, entwined with every cell that made me a woman. Awakening that woman in so many miraculous ways.

  A satisfied snarl prowled up Killian’s throat, as if the universe had ratted out my thoughts. I didn’t care, especially when he grabbed both sides of my face in return, reclaiming control of the kiss. As our mouths and tongues mated, he dropped his grip to my shoulders. I gasped when his hold tightened, pitching the sound into a squeal as he leveraged it to flip me over onto the bed. The Taj Mahal mound of pillows cushioned my fall, billowing as he laid me back and kissed me deeply again.

  When he pulled up, his jaw went tight and his eyes darkened to midnight. The starch in his cuffs turned his caresses down my arms into sizzling teases, making me shiver all over again.

  “I want the rest of my dessert,” he declared while sitting up. I emulated the move, but he sent me back into the pillows with a determined push. His long fingers became commanding wands. “Ohhh, no. You stay right there. No more running, fairy, remember? This bird is outfitted with a lot of perks, but the last time I checked, there were no little cages or leashes to be found.”

  That caused me to hitch up on my elbows, a glower in place. “Cages or leashes?”

  “You heard me.” He sent the admonishment with a sly smile. “You run for the damn hills every time I turn my back. Hell, even when I don’t turn it.”

  My gut twisted a little. Despite the grin, I detected his words had come from a hurt place inside. I said nothing, knowing I deserved the jibe.