Abby jiggled the handle and the door swung open to reveal a California king-size bed in the middle of a room the size of her entire apartment. The floor-to-ceiling windows carried into the bedroom. And the bed. Oh, the bed. It was filled with a pile of cream and red pillows. A fluffy white duvet looked so inviting that she nearly took a running leap to sprawl out on it spread-eagle, making bed angels. Because that wouldn’t look weird to her guest or anything. Plus, she had to take pictures before they messed up the sheets.
She adjusted the camera and snapped a few pictures of the pristinely made bed. Oh yeah, work it, bed. Not only are you going to star in a major film, but you’re about to be the centerpiece of tonight’s festivities. The shutter clicked as she wound her way around the bed, finding the perfect angle and lighting. She looked at the display, and when she was satisfied with the pictures, she walked over to the nightstand and gently set her camera down.
She looked up at Gage, who was also transfixed with the bed. “So…what do you want to do?”
He leveled Abby with a look that curled her insides. “As much as I can before my flight tomorrow morning.”
Chapter Five
This was so beyond crazy. Gage was more likely to encounter a hostile takeover than end up in a penthouse with Miss Hollywood, complete with throw pillows and matching decor. Closest his apartment came to having any type of feng shui was that his pillow cases matched his bedspread, and only because they’d been part of a set, and a steal at twenty bucks from Target. The penthouse had woman’s touch written all over it—not really his style, because throw pillows were a hindrance in the bedroom—but he’d work around the dainty shit. On the plus side of being in the penthouse, Abby was no longer a passenger—which made the work issue nonexistent.
“What time does your flight leave tomorrow?”
Even if a one-night stand seemed like a horrible idea, he’d rather cut off his right hand than give up tonight. Come morning, he’d hightail it out of there and be at JFK before any real damage could be done. Until then, Abby was all his. And he intended to take his time with her and every mouth-watering curve, every dip and swell of her creamy skin.
“Anxious to get rid of me already?” He dropped his carry-on bag on the tufted bench in front of the bed.
“Definitely not. Just wondering what time to set a wake-up call.” She froze beside him, staring out the window. The same look that had masked her features during turbulence made an appearance, and she folded her arms over her chest. From what he gathered, the woman liked control. And lots of it. Probably scared the shit out of her doing something like this. Hell, it wasn’t a walk around Central Park for him, either. It’d been years since he’d done a casual hookup. But he wasn’t willing to let a bad case of jitters get between them. He needed her, and from what he could tell, she wanted him, too.
“I don’t need an alarm.” He took her arm and spun her so that she was facing him. Her gaze was cast down to the floor, and he hated to see the woman who was so sure of herself on the plane look this hesitant. “Look at me.”
She worried her lip, but her gaze locked with his.
“First things first. You may be a big deal and in charge in the boardroom, but the bedroom is my domain.” He ran his hand over her curves, his hand finally resting on her hip. “I’m going to take care of you.”
His thumbs curled around the belt loops of her pencil skirt, and he pulled her closer until her breasts were flush with his chest. He tugged a little harder than necessary, and his erection pressed against his pants when Abby let out a pleasured moan. It’d been a while since he’d been in the bedroom with anyone, but most girls he’d been with all wanted the same thing—sweet, predictable, boring as hell sex. Gage didn’t subscribe to the BDSM club, but he was ten steps past missionary and needed a woman who wanted more than polite fucking.
Vanessa, his ex-fiancé, even though he had loved her at the time, bored him to damn death in the bedroom. He’d wanted nothing more than to please her, but every time he’d try, she’d fake an orgasm, wait for him to come, and then turn to spoon. That relationship inspired as much passion as an overcooked meatloaf.
“I’ll try. I’m just a little…” Her voice trailed off, but he understood. She was nervous.
“If at any time you want to stop, you tell me. I’d never do anything you’re not comfortable with. No holding back.” He took her chin in his hand and caught her gaze. “Promise me.”
“I promise.” She nodded, and a little of her edginess seemed to melt away at his touch. This woman was like putty in his damn hands.
She shook her head as if clearing her thoughts, and then the same spark he’d seen in her eyes on the plane reappeared, the one that said she was up for anything Gage could dole out. He’d take advantage of that in a heartbeat.
Her soft breaths were the only sound that pierced the silence as he slowly unbuttoned her shirt. Normally Gage welcomed a quiet room after he’d been surrounded by loud passengers all day, but right now, it was irritating as hell. With foreplay having started hours ago, his body was as tightly wound as a spring. He didn’t want to hear just her ragged breath, he wanted skin slapping against skin, the unmistakable sound of working his cock into her tight heat. Yes, he’d coax a scream out of her if it took him all night.
Her shirt gaped open, exposing a black lacy bra that showcased milky skin and ample cleavage. His fingers traced lazily along the collar of her shirt and dipped under the lace. Her back arched in response, pressing her breasts into his palm. “Good. Then this needs to go.” He gripped the fabric and gave a forceful tug, slipping it off her shoulders and tossing it to the floor.
Gage lowered himself, kissing and licking his way down her neck to her chest. His mouth worked its way over one breast, and he spotted the dusky pink outline of her nipple protesting against the lace. He took the fabric in his mouth, giving a hard suck, nipping tentatively with his teeth, and a satisfying gasp escaped Abby’s mouth. While his lips explored her other nipple, his hands slid down her spine. Every inch that his fingers trailed along her soft skin, the more she arched her back. He unzipped her skirt and slid it down her thighs, the fabric pooling on the floor.
“Oh,” she said, her voice hitching as his hands moved to the top of her ass. With that, he hoisted her up until her legs wrapped around his waist.
He made his way to the four-poster bed and stopped just as his knees hit the wooden frame. His firm grip on Abby’s ass loosened, and she slid down his frame, one aching inch at a time. “Get on your knees,” he commanded while simultaneously tugging off his shirt. He was determined to find out how good she tasted.
Her skin flushed a deeper red at the order. As she began to dip down on the floor, he caught her elbow and jutted his chin toward the top of the bed. “On the bed. Get on your knees on the bed. Now.”
“But—”
“Do I need to use my tie to get you to stay put?”
In fact, Gage liked that idea. Very much. And if he heard one more peep from Abby, that’s exactly what he’d do. Tie her hands to the wooden posts and show her just what would happen if she didn’t listen.
…
Abby crawled to the top of the bed on shaky hands and knees. With her blouse and skirt currently residing on the floor, she felt a little exposed. More than exposed. Shit, no guy had ever seen her naked with the light on, and the fact that Gage was now openly staring at her ass in a room that had enough lights to be seen from the space station, well, it should have sent her into a panic. She peered around at him, wondering why he was suddenly so silent. The unease in her stomach quieted as she took in his appreciative gaze.
“No,” Abby said to Gage’s question. She didn’t know if she was up for being tied to the bed just yet.
“Put your hands on the headboard.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m about to put my tongue between your thighs.”
“I…um…wait.” She shifted to turn her head and peer behind her again. Oral had never been that
great for her. She worried too much about the guy and what he’d think, which did nothing to get her going, so most of the time she just opted to forgo.
“Yes?” His rough hands smoothed up the inside of her legs and took little effort to spread them across the comforter. The soft fabric molded against her face as her head hit the pillow. Could he make her forget every worry she had about sex? He was already off to a good start—her mind was as blank as a fresh sheet of paper.
“You really don’t have to do this,” Abby said. Her aching, needy body contradicted her words. Yes, her body screamed for his tongue to circle around her clit. She needed this release more than air at this point, her insides coiling painfully.
“I don’t have to do anything,” he said, his voice a low growl. “I want to taste you. I want you riding my mouth, sweetheart. Show me what a dirty girl you can be.”
His tongue ran up the back of her thigh, and her brain promptly flipped the off switch. She lay there, ass in the air, as Gage traced his tongue along her sensitive skin. Warm fingers curled under her panties, kneading her ass. Oh, his firm grip shot a jolt straight to the space that needed the most attention.
“I bet a Hollywood type like you is in charge all day, but that’s not going to happen here. How many men have gotten under that pencil skirt?” He slid his hands, working his way up her thighs. His fingers grazed her soaked panties, and her hips bucked as he ran his thumb over her clit. “How many made you dripping wet like you are now?”
For fuck’s sake, his words got her drunk faster than pounding back tequila shooters on her twenty-first birthday. Her body was so keyed up that just one touch and she’d probably spiral again. “No one.” Her voice was barely a whisper.
His fingers made quick work of yanking down her panties, and within seconds, his tongue was tracing up her center in one long lick that sent a shudder deep into her bones. Heat ebbed from her core and spread across her skin. A moan tore out of her throat as his tongue skillfully circled her clit.
He groaned appreciatively. “You taste so fucking good.”
She knocked her head into the pillow, barely able to concentrate on anything but his mouth on her. Swirl, lick, swirl. The pace was excruciatingly slow and Abby found herself moving her hips, trying to get him to move at a faster tempo, one that would give her release.
“That’s it. Ride my face.”
Something unleashed in her. For once, she didn’t give a shit about what she looked like when naked, or the fact that he was so close to other areas she did not want him to experience. It all melted away as a need, something visceral and primal, kicked in, and she wanted her release, dammit. Her hips bucked against his face, and the stubble on his chin rubbed across her clit, sending stars behind her eyes. Oh, hell yeah. She did it again. That, paired with the licking, sucking, and lapping, and she was soon climbing that mountain of holy grail release.
“Come for me, sweetheart.”
His deep voice vibrated through her ribs, and when his warm breath fanned across her center, she lost sense of which way was up and down. Didn’t honestly care at that point. “I’m ready for you. Please. Fuck me.” Because this wasn’t making love like she’d done with Rick all those years. No, this was hard and dirty, and just what she needed to get her out of this rut.
He pulled back, and the bed dipped as he rolled off one side and went for his carry-on suitcase at the foot of the bed. After removing the rest of his clothes, he grabbed a condom from his bag and rolled it over his cock. Abby swallowed past a lump in her throat. He ambled back over to the bed and gripped her hips and flipped her over.
“I thought you said you didn’t do missionary.”
“You were looking a little nervous. Thought I’d ease you in.”
“By all means, carry on with whatever you were planning.”
With that, he flipped her back over and gripped her hair in one hand, hard enough to let her know who was in charge, sending a tingle of pain down her scalp, but not enough to actually hurt.
He took a breath and eased into her, one delicious inch at a time. It was a fullness that she hadn’t felt in months, one that set her skin on fire. Gage fit snuggly between her thighs and the tightness coiled in her stomach.
His hands moved to her hips, and after a few tentative times easing into her, he plunged in deep, stealing her breath. “That feel good for you? Think you can take all of me?”
“Y-yes,” she stuttered. It was all she could say with him crashing into her. He picked up his pace and bucked his hips until he was buried in her, slamming into her ass. The erotic sound of their skin slapping together sent chills up her spine, made her tighten around his cock until he groaned and his fingers bit into the flesh of her hip. There was no overthinking when it came to Gage. Abby was washed out to sea, drowning in pleasure, each wave pulling her deeper.
“Oh God. Oh God. Oh God,” she cried as he reached around and swirled his finger over her aching clit.
She felt the wave of another release crashing through her as Gage’s movements became more erratic and his breath hitched. A low moan poured out of his lips as he found his own climax.
She whimpered and ground against him, riding the release.
Abby collapsed, her body giving way to exhaustion. She lay on the bed, completely sated. What the fuck was that? A connection that intimate should not be possible between complete strangers. Well, not strangers anymore. Gage worked her body on a primal level, and her body begged for his touch. Damn him, he just might have ruined her for all other men.
Chapter Six
Gage slunk out of bed before the crack of dawn even had a chance to make an appearance in the NYC skyline. He fumbled around in the dark, trying to find the clothes he’d haphazardly shucked somewhere in the heat of the moment last night, attempting to not wake Abby up. For someone who never did hookups, the woman was a goddamn goddess in the bedroom. Her ability to submit to his every request, to respond to every lap of his tongue, every flick of his finger, well, it made him hard just thinking about her arched back and slick pussy.
He shook his head, disgusted with himself at his current predicament. It was a dick move to leave without saying good-bye, but what choice did he have? They lived on separate ends of the country—it was painfully obvious that this would never go past a one-night stand.
His gaze worked over her sleeping figure, memorizing each curve and dip of her body as she lay sprawled across the bed, sheets covering her in all the wrong places. Abby was one hell of a woman, one who deserved more than this. His line of work didn’t leave room for things like time and relationships. It annoyed him that he was even thinking about those things in the first place. He’d been shut off to the idea of someone else for so long that he didn’t even know what to do with these thoughts.
So he’d do the dick thing and leave. She’d be pissed for a few hours, but then she’d get over him. Gage wished he could say the same for himself, but one night with the brunette vixen was enough to leave a permanent mark, because she was different from any other woman he’d been with before. She was so responsive, so vibrant, so much everything. She’d fucking rocked Gage’s world off its axis. But he knew a fling when he saw it, and he also knew when to let it go, even if every bit of his body ached to climb back in bed with her.
He frowned and pulled on his pants and shirt. He padded through the apartment, his bag slung over his shoulder. Before he left, he had to steal one more glance of Abby, one to get him through leaving and forgetting her while he flew home. Because he had bigger things to focus on, like seeing his sister and niece. Right. His family. Who expected him to settle down with a nice southern girl. One who would probably do nothing for him compared to the person asleep twenty feet away. “Bye, Abby,” he whispered and disappeared into the hallway, letting the door slide shut behind him.
He slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out his cell. Seven messages from his family and one from his commander. He read his mother’s messages first:
Mom: I had b
runch with Cheryl yesterday—you know, the one who always has the bake sales at the library? Her daughter just graduated from Yale and is moving back home. She’ll be coming over for dinner next Thursday, and I would love for you to come. —Love, Mom
Gage smirked. No matter how many times he told his mom that she didn’t need to sign her texts like a letter or an email, she continued to do so. His smile faded at the prospect of having another dinner with yet another eligible bachelorette. He didn’t need a fucking dating service. He needed time. Which he didn’t have. Plus, this girl was just out of college? That would make her almost ten years younger. They’d most likely have nothing in common.
He scrolled down to the next text from his sister.
Jill: fdsfhfuvndvsjkfhsd
Jill: that was Emily. She says she loves her Uncle Gage.
His heart melted around the edges. He loved that girl like one of his own. Maybe one day, when things settled down a bit, he’d have a kid. Yeah, that wouldn’t be happening for the foreseeable future. No, for now, he was helping out Jill with the bills, since her scumbag of an ex-husband left her without child support. He didn’t mind the overtime if it meant giving Emily whatever she needed.
He managed to make it down to the lobby of the building, and paused as he took one step outside. Holy shit. The roads were piled with snow—mounds and mounds of glistening white, fluffy snow. Not a cab in sight. In fact, the road was eerily empty. A snowplow would most likely be coming through soon, because no way would a city that never slept be shut down for very long. Because he needed to get to the airport. Needed to get home. Now.
A quick glance down the street confirmed half the city was shut down. Most of the businesses along the block still had their closed signs affixed to glass windows. Well, shit. If it was this bad in the city, what did that mean for JFK? He pulled up the website on his phone and his face set into a deeper frown as he scrolled through the list of cancelled flights. Every. Single. One.
Landing the Air Marshal (Snowpocalypse) Page 6