Flying

by Megan Hart

  “Yes. You have,” she said, then turned toward him. “Look. I’m not interested in swooping in on your life and wreaking havoc, okay? We all have our own shit to shovel. I understand how you’d want to be careful with your girls. I’m not so clear on why you’re still tied to the ex-wife so that you have to act like you’re cheating on her.”

  He looked startled at that. Then a flush of guilt. Maybe he’d cheated on his wife, maybe that was why she’d asked him for a divorce. Stella wasn’t about to get into it.

  “I don’t need to rub her nose in anything. And she would check the bill to see if I was texting strange numbers. She’s done it before. And then she freaks out. I just don’t need the hassle. That’s all.”

  Stella sighed and rubbed at the swelling headache pressing behind her eyes. “I think you should take me back to the airport. I’ll grab a hotel room—”

  “No!” Matthew reached for her. “Shit, Stella. Don’t do that. Can’t I make it up to you? I feel like shit. Really.”

  She eyed him, trying to gauge his sincerity. Matthew hadn’t yet impressed her as the sort of guy who’d run roughshod over her in pursuit of what he wanted, but he did have that charm she’d found so many men knew they could use to get their own way.

  It was against her better judgment, but she smiled a little. “You’re going to have to work for it.”

  “Okay. I can do that.” Matthew grinned.

  “Work hard. Realllllly hard.”

  Matthew sat up straight, giving her a firm nod. “As hard as I have to. In fact, I’m kind of semihard right now.”

  “Bad. You’re very bad, you know that?” Stella shook her head.

  Matthew leaned in to offer his mouth for a kiss she didn’t give him right away. “Yeah. I know.”

  Stella let him kiss her.

  * * *

  “I’m stuffed.” With a groan, Stella dropped onto Matthew’s couch. “I don’t know where you put all that food. Do you have a hollow leg, or what?”

  He’d taken her to the movies, then shopping and to the Skydeck in Willis Tower. Then finally out to dinner. It had been a whirlwind of a day, cram-packed with all the sorts of touristy things she imagined he thought she wanted to do, and they’d been fun. But what she really wanted was to spend time with him. Maybe he was trying to impress her. Maybe he was trying to fend off any more possible awkwardness by keeping them both busy until they collapsed.

  At least Caroline had left him alone. Mostly. A couple of bland texts Stella hadn’t asked to see, but Matthew had felt compelled to share with her.

  She eyed him now as he poured himself a nice measure of whiskey.

  “You want?” Matthew held up his glass.

  “No, thanks.”

  “I have wine.”

  “I couldn’t,” Stella said. “I’ll explode. Seriously.”

  Matthew, glass in hand, joined her on the couch in a swift, graceful motion, so smooth the liquor didn’t even slosh. “I don’t want you to explode.”

  Watching his gaze light up and travel over her, Stella felt an answering pull of heat. After the debacle at the Riverwalk and the discussion in the car, he’d been lovely to her all day. Holding her hand. Nuzzling her occasionally. Pulling her close for random hugs. But he hadn’t looked at her like this until just now, and it was what she’d been waiting for since he’d pushed her up against the car in the parking garage and plundered her mouth.

  When she kissed him, she tasted whiskey. Smoky. It reminded her of fall. When she sucked his tongue gently, Matthew gave a soft moan. Stella moved onto his lap, taking his face in her hands to kiss him harder.

  “Gonna spill your whiskey,” she mouthed against his lips. “You better drink it.”

  Matthew moved the glass between them, eyeing her over the rim. Watching his tongue swipe his mouth, Stella shifted to press herself against him. Her clit pulsed when he drank and swallowed; he offered her the glass and she sipped. Shuddered at the burn.

  Matthew laughed and drained the glass, then reached behind him to put it on the sofa table. His hands found her hips. His lips, her lips. The kiss deepened, tongues searching. He put a hand on the small of her back to press her to him, and in minutes they were both grinding against each other.

  Stella broke the kiss with a gasp. “Matthew...”

  “Yes.” He didn’t let her say another word, capturing all her sighs with his mouth and breathing them back into her. He rocked his hardness against her, and it felt so good Stella forgot what she meant to say, if anything.

  Maybe she just liked the taste of his name.

  Somehow she got a hand between them and undid his belt, his zipper and button, to free him. The head of his cock pushed free of the denim and his briefs, and she pressed her palm to its heat. His hands had moved beneath her dress, his thumb finding her clit through the soft fabric of her leggings. He stroked her once, twice, until she shuddered.

  “Feels good,” she whispered.

  He looked into her eyes. “I want to make you feel good. I want to watch you come.”

  “I,” Stella said, sitting upright, “would love for you to watch me come.”

  “I can feel your heat. And right here...” He stroked her clit again. “You’re hard. I can feel it. Fuck, that turns me on.”

  Her muscles leaped as he touched her. Stella let her head fall back for a second with a moan. “That feels so good. Just like that.”

  Stroke. Stroke. Back and forth, the pressure almost so light it shouldn’t even have registered, yet drove her crazy for just that reason. Stella wanted to writhe from it, to whimper. She kept herself still only so she didn’t wiggle herself right off his lap, but she curled her fingers in the front of his shirt.

  “You like that.”

  She laughed breathlessly and leaned in to kiss him. “Yes. I like that.”

  She wanted to ask him to put his hands inside her panties, sink his fingers deep inside her, but she didn’t move. Matthew opened his mouth, his tongue delicately stroking hers. His thumb kept up the slow, steady and frustratingly light pressure while the pleasure built up and up inside her until Stella let her head drop to his shoulder. Trembling, she strained toward climax, every muscle tight.

  He stopped.

  Stella let out a groan but didn’t move. It would take so little to send her over the edge right now, but she felt helpless to even shift her hips and press herself against him. All she could do was concentrate on that flickering flame of desire between her legs.

  Slowly, he swiped his thumb across her clit again. His other hand gripped her ass, kneading. Pressing her against him. Then he slid his hand up her back to anchor it in the hair at the base of her skull, fingers tangling, pulling her head back. Matthew kissed her throat, baring his teeth against her skin. Biting gently.

  “Oh,” she breathed. And again, “Oh, oh...”

  “Come for me,” Matthew said. “I want you to come for me.”

  She did. Up, up and over. Sometimes she came hard like falling into an abyss, but this time her orgasm lifted her. Flying. She rode the waves of pleasure in silence but for the tortured gasp of her breathing, and when it was over she collapsed against him.

  Matthew stroked his hands down her back, then held her close. They stayed that way for a minute or so. Stella forced her eyes to open, made herself sit up, though she could’ve stayed like that forever.

  “Wow,” she said.

  Matthew grinned. “Good?”

  “Um, yeah.” She wriggled a little, putting a hand between them to cup his hard cock. Every part of her felt loose and sated, but there was more to come. Literally, she hoped.

  Matthew’s eyes went heavy-lidded at her caress, but he shifted her off his lap, then urged her onto her knees facing the back of the sofa. He bent over her back, arms along hers, to press her hands to the sofa
cushions, curling her fingers to grip. Stella looked over her shoulder at the sound of his zipper going down. In the next minute, Matthew flipped the hem of her dress to her hips and eased down her leggings and her damp panties, then put his hands on her hips and pulled her to the edge of the couch.

  “Bend over.”

  She did, closing her eyes again, waiting for his touch. At the stroke of his fingers along the seam of her cunt, then inside her, Stella moaned. Matthew found her clit and stroked that too before withdrawing.

  “Hold on a second.” He pulled open a drawer in the end table.

  She heard the rustle of him opening a condom. Tense, she waited for the press of his cock and wasn’t disappointed. Matthew rubbed himself between her legs, getting himself slick, then pushed slowly inside her. This angle made the friction a little odd until she bent forward more, widening her knees on the couch and tipping her hips to allow him to get inside her even deeper.

  “Fuck,” Matthew breathed as he seated himself inside her. “Oh, Stella. Shit. You’re so fucking wet.”

  She knew it by the effortless slide of him inside her, but hearing him say it as though she’d presented him with some sort of gift sent shivers of pleasure all through her.

  He fucked her like he owned the patent on getting her off. Slow, then harder and faster, short and sharp, followed by leisurely and long. He was teasing the fuck out of her, and she loved it. Every so often he reached around to tweak her clit, sending fresh waves of desire coursing through her, but again, Stella didn’t worry about whether or not she was going to come again. The journey was as delicious as the destination.

  He fucked her that way for what seemed like forever. Stella let her face press into the cushions as she pushed back against him. The slap of their bodies turned her on. So did the sound of Matthew’s low moans when she ground herself on his cock, and the smack of his hand on her ass. Not hard enough to hurt, just enough to warm her skin. The unexpected pressure of his thumb on her asshole startled her into rocking forward, and that was enough to surprise her into another orgasm.

  “Oh, shit, I can feel you coming,” Matthew said. “I’m gonna...”

  Stella let out a long, stuttering sigh and rocked her hips to get him deeper into her. Matthew’s hoarse shout put a smile on her face. So did the way he collapsed onto her back for a few moments before getting off her and falling, splayed, on the couch, with one arm flung over his face.

  Stella moved, her dress falling over her hips. She wriggled her panties and leggings back up and peeked at him. “Mmmm.”

  Matthew cracked open an eye. Without moving, he waved his hand in the general direction of the end table. “Could you...get me...”

  Stella laughed and reached for the box of tissues, which she handed him so he could take care of the condom, then took the box and the mass of tissues from him to throw away in the kitchen. There she drew herself a glass of cold water from the tap and drank deep, cataloging all the lovely aches he’d given her. Her knees hurt most of all, but something had pulled a little in her neck and shoulder too. Wincing, she rubbed it.

  “You okay?” Matthew said from behind her. He opened the fridge and pulled out a beer, offering it to her. Stella shook her head.

  “Just a little neck spasm.” Stella rubbed at it, watching him crack the top on the beer and swallow a long, thirsty pull. “It’s an old injury but still acts up sometimes.”

  “Sit.” Matthew indicated the kitchen chair, and she obeyed. He set his beer on the table and put his big hands on her neck. “Here?”

  “Lower... Yeah. There. Ouch.”

  “You’re really tight there.” He worked the muscles gently but firmly, hitting the trigger points in a way that made her want to cry even though it felt good at the same time.

  Before she knew it, Stella was crying. Small gasping sobs at first that she tried to hold back, but then the tears came along with deeper, breathy groans as she tried to hold them back. It wasn’t only from the pain in her neck and shoulder, though it could be bad enough sometimes to make her cry.

  It was... Well, she didn’t quite know what it was, only that as he worked on her tense muscles, the stress and fear of earlier came slamming back into her and the euphoria of the hour they’d spent on his couch had worn away her walls enough that she had no chance of holding back any emotions at all.

  “Hey,” Matthew said when he noticed. “I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?”

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I just... I feel stupid now. I’m sorry.” Stella swiped at her eyes and pressed her fingers there to hold back the tears still threatening. She’d managed not to burst into braying sobs, but only barely. She breathed, concentrating on pushing away the sudden onslaught of emotions threatening to overwhelm her. All of this was so much more than she’d been looking for, and what was she supposed to do with it now that it had found her?

  Matthew didn’t say anything else; he just pulled her close, her face to his shirt. He stroked her hair. And that was really all she needed, not words or platitudes, but the unspoken comfort of his touch.

  * * *

  “I wish you didn’t have to go.” Matthew said this against her neck.

  They’d made a tent of his blankets, the light filtering through the windows casting shadows through the sheets. Stella moved her knees slowly against the soft fabric, watching the way the light changed. The tickle of his lips on her skin sent a shiver through her, peaking her nipples, but she didn’t want him to move away.

  “I have to, though.”

  “I know.” He sighed and nuzzled closer, one hand on her belly. Teasing lower, through her curls. His fingers found her clit for a second, but only that.

  Stella rolled to face him, kicking the covers off so they could lie naked and untangled. She touched his face, then kissed him. “This was a great weekend, Matthew. Thank you.”

  It had been, even with the awkwardness at the Riverwalk. She kissed him again, lingering a little before pulling away when he started to make it deeper. She laughed, shaking her finger at him as she got up.

  “I have to go. I need to shower and get to the airport....”

  Matthew groaned and flung himself against the pillows. “Ugh.”

  Stella laughed again, her heart beating a little faster at the thought he might really want her to stay. She went to his side of the bed and put a knee on it, looking down at him. “You can call me, you know. Anytime. It’s not like we won’t talk again.”

  “What if we don’t? What if you walk out my door and I never see you again?” Matthew sat up, his back against the wall.

  He was so fucking beautiful when he was naked. He looked damn good with clothes on too, but clearly so comfortable in his bare skin, he was glorious. He took her breath away, and she had to force herself not to pounce on him again. She couldn’t miss her flight—there wasn’t another until tomorrow.

  “You’ll see me again,” Stella said, aiming her tone for breezy and not quite making it.

  Matthew gave her a slow smile that kindled fire inside her. “Promise?”

  She hesitated. Making promises was the fastest way to end up telling a lie. “Well, I’d certainly like to. And I’m sure we can make it happen, if you want that too. You could come to see me in Pennsylvania. Fly into Philly. I’ll take you out on the town.”

  He stared at her a long moment, not answering. Just when it started to feel awkward, he reached for her hand. Pulled her closer. He kissed her, long and sweet and slow, until her head spun and she lost her sense of direction.

  “You could come back here,” he murmured against her mouth, “and we could just stay in.”

  She laughed as she kissed him. “Well...if you insist.”

  “I do,” he said. “I absolutely do.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  That was how it began, this thing between them. With a pro
mise she’d been unable to make a couple months ago. Technically, Stella thought as she once more boarded a plane home from Chicago after another whirlwind weekend with Matthew, it had started in a hotel bar, where she’d once more picked up a stranger...only it had been different with him from that first meeting. Different ever since.

  A little over two months wasn’t such a long time, especially when she’d only managed three visits in that span of time. But they talked on the phone or video-chatted every day, which was nowhere as fulfilling as seeing him in person, but better than nothing.

  Her phone booped in her pocket as she settled into her seat, and she pulled it out, grinning to find a message from him. Miss you.

  They’d both downloaded an app called Kik to use for their messages. It irked her, a little, to have to dance around his ex-wife’s neurosis, but she had to admit there were a few functions of the app that she liked better than texting. One of them was the ability to see at once if he’d read her message, and also if he was replying, both functions regular texting couldn’t provide since Matthew was a heathen who didn’t use an iPhone.

  Quickly, Stella entered a series of emoticons. A smile blowing a kiss, a heart, a woman’s face. Then a man’s. It was their code. She glanced at the man taking the aisle seat next to her, who was blatantly looking at what she was doing. Stella sent the message, then turned off her phone in preparation for departure.

  “Hi,” the man said.

  Businessman. Just her type too. Stella reached in her bag and pulled out her book without giving him more than a polite, distant smile.

  Things really had changed.

  * * *

  At home, things hadn’t changed. Stella walked in the front door to the blare of music coming from the speakers connected to Tristan’s iPod, and a kitchen full of teenage boys in various stages of stink. The fridge hung open with one foraging inside. The sink had been piled high with dirty dishes. The table groaned under the weight of pizza boxes and other trash.

  Well, at least none of the cans scattered around and overflowing the recycling bin were of beer, and she couldn’t find any evidence they were shooting heroine into their eyeballs or any place else. And, she noted, there was a distinct and obvious lack of girls.