“It really is beautiful,” I murmur.
I look across at him, his jaw coated in a fine layer of silver dust. His hair is swept under the headset, his suit clutching tightly onto his body as though it’s just as obsessed with his muscles as I am. He casually moves the stick, flipping a few buttons, smirking over at me before returning his attention to the heavens.
“I’m glad you like it,” he says.
“Since when did you fly helicopters, Mr. Spy?”
He chuckles. “Is that my new nickname, my little dreamer?”
“I think it fits,” I say, finding that I can sink into the motion of the helicopter now, the thrum vibrating through my body. “Secret rooms dotted all over the city, you look the part, and now this. What else am I supposed to think?”
“You’re my lady, Sophia,” he says. “You can think anything you want. But if you’re getting excited about the idea of me being a spy, I’m afraid I’ve got to disappoint you. I’m just your average billionaire.”
I giggle at the oxymoron, and he smirks, turning the joystick and guiding us further and further onto the ocean. It’s like we’re suspended in a world of spring blue, the sea below and the sky above – and in front – enhancing the sensation of floating.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“Somewhere private,” he says. “Somewhere we can pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist. Somewhere I can take you and you can scream without worrying about anyone hearing.”
I move my hands over my stomach as nerves twist against lust, neither of them winning completely.
“You trying to turn me on even more?” Solomon snarls, glancing at me with those startling emerald eyes of his.
“What, by touching my belly?” I giggle.
“Yes. Fuck yes,” he growls. “Every part of you turns me on, but your belly is one of your sexiest features. You know why, my little dreamer? Because I can easily imagine how fertile and gorgeous you’re going to look when you’re pregnant. When you touch your belly like that, it makes me think of our future, of our family, and that really fucking turns me on.”
I let out a whimper, stunned by how easily he can prompt that sound from me. It just comes out, unbidden, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.
There’s nothing I want to do to stop it.
The vibrations of the helicopter make me squeeze my thighs together, the motion of the machine thrumming through my sex, against my clit.
Everything aches.
“You horny thing,” Solomon groans. “You’re getting off right now, aren’t you?”
“No,” I whimper.
“Fine—no. But you could.”
I bite my lip, nodding at him, the vibrations of the helicopter making my pussy hotter and wetter with each moment.
“Touch yourself,” he snaps.
“Huh?”
“You heard,” he snarls. “Touch your pussy. Make yourself come. Be loud, too. I want to hear you moan for me.”
He does something to the joystick, increasing our speed … and making it judder and throb even more urgently against my sex. The motion has me bucking up and down, my lips aching with the need for release.
“Are you serious?” I moan.
“I won’t ask again,” he snaps. “Do it.”
I slide my hand from my belly to my thighs, wedging my hand between my legs.
“Slowly at first,” he instructs. “I’ll tell you when you can go faster.”
“Yes, sir,” I moan, knowing he loves it when I call him that.
I press my hand down on my crotch, grinding the fabric of my pants against my lips and my panties. I fight the urge to rub harder, staring across at Solomon. His jaw is tight and his knuckles are tense and bone-white against the joystick, his body vibrating just as much as the helicopter.
It’s like he’s going to explode any second.
“I said moan,” he snarls.
I part my lips and let out a moan, grinding my palm against my clit, finding the special spot I’ve rubbed so many times thinking about Solomon.
I never dreamed he’d actually want me, that I’d be with him in the flesh, doing something so wild and steamy.
It’s like he’s using every ounce of his self-control to keep himself focused on the task of piloting the helicopter.
“Faster,” he commands. “Go for it, Sophia. Show me how sexy you are.”
A surge of anxiety rises up within me at those words.
My first instinct is to think, But I’m not sexy.
But then I slam down on those thoughts.
Solomon tells me I’m sexy.
Solomon wants to be with me, forever.
Maybe it’s time I stopped letting nervousness and pain dictate my life.
I grind my hand frantically up and down my pussy, driving the heel of my palm against my clit, moaning in an endless tangle of choking and screaming and pleasure now. It all comes out of me, all the pleasure I’ve saved up over the years, aimed at Solomon, never believing he could ever see me as more than the dorky girl with a mouthful of braces.
I throw my head back as the orgasm punches into me, making my lips feel as though they’re swelling, my clit getting tight and pulsing in time with the wave-like expansion of the orgasm.
It spreads into every part of me like sunlight, filling me until I feel as if I’m about to burst and send the whole freaking helicopter plummeting into the sea.
“Louder,” Solomon snarls.
I scream so hard I feel the veins in my throat bulging, my hole sending streams of boiling wetness into my panties, soaking me right through.
“Oh, fuck,” I murmur, deflating and letting my head fall back.
“Don’t you mean oh my gosh?” Solomon lightly teases, aiming a smirk at me.
I smile over at him, and then reach out and place my hand on his thigh. I don’t know where this bravery comes from. Maybe it has something to do with the confidence swirling around inside of me as a result of the orgasm, performing for him in a way that turned him so savage.
He tenses up, letting out a shivering growl.
“You’re so damn perfect, Sophia.”
I give
