Chapter 13: High Altitude Pleasure
The drone of the engines was a deep, constant thrum, a vibration Rina felt in her bones as she drifted towards wakefulness. Pedro’s shoulder was firm beneath her cheek, his breathing steady and deep. Sunlight streamed through the oval window, painting a warm stripe across the cream leather seats and glinting off the polished wood accents. The scent of expensive leather and the fading ghost of her perfume mingled with the faint ozone smell of circulated air. She shifted slightly, the soft nap of the leather cool against her bare arm where her sleeve had ridden up. Pedro’s arm tightened instinctively around her waist, pulling her closer even in sleep.
She opened her eyes, blinking against the brightness. His profile was relaxed, the silver threads at his temples catching the light, the neat line of his beard softening his jaw. A quiet, profound contentment settled over her, warm as the sunlight. Home, she’d thought stepping onto the plane. Him. Always him.
But beneath the contentment, a different heat began to coil low in her belly. The memory of Rome: the shower, the desperate coupling against the tiles, the way he’d filled her utterly mere hours ago. It wasn't satiation she felt now; it was hunger. A sharp, insistent craving for him. For the taste of him, the feel of him, the sound of his breath catching because of her.
Carefully, so as not to wake him fully just yet, she tilted her head back, pressing a soft kiss to the pulse point beneath his jaw. He stirred, a low hum rumbling in his chest. She kissed along his jawline, feather-light, then traced the shell of his ear with her tongue. His breathing hitched. Good.
"Pedro," she murmured, her lips brushing his earlobe.
His eyes fluttered open, dark and heavy-lidded with sleep, then focusing on her with an intensity that made her pulse jump. A slow, knowing smile curved his lips. "Morning again, princesa? Or should I say, afternoon?"
"Depends," she whispered, her hand sliding down the firm plane of his chest, over the soft cotton of his t-shirt, heading lower. "What time zone are we operating on?"
His smile deepened, his hand coming up to cup the back of her neck, fingers tangling in her hair. "Feeling restless?"
"Feeling hungry," she corrected, her voice dropping lower, husky with intent. Her hand found the growing hardness beneath the worn denim of his jeans, pressing firmly. He groaned, his hips shifting unconsciously. "Woke up starving. For you."
"Christ, Rina," he breathed, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin behind her ear. His eyes held hers, that familiar heat flaring, mixed with a tender possessiveness that never failed to undo her. "You're going to be the death of me."
"Promises, promises," she teased, but the playful edge was already dissolving into pure need. She slid off the wide seat, her bare feet sinking into the plush carpet. Without breaking eye contact, she dropped gracefully to her knees between his legs on the luxurious rug.
The hum of the jet seemed louder down here, vibrating through the floor. She looked up at him, framed by the vastness of the sky visible through the window behind him, the soft leather of the seat cradling his powerful frame. He watched her, his expression a mixture of raw desire and something infinitely softer, his hand resting heavily on her shoulder, a silent anchor.
Her fingers worked the button of his jeans, then the zipper, the sound loud in the intimate cabin. She didn't rush. She pushed the denim and the soft cotton of his boxer briefs down his hips just enough. His cock sprang free, thick and already fully hard, flushed dark, the head glistening with a bead of pre-cum. The sight, the musky scent of him, ignited the fire in her belly into a blaze.
"Fuck, you're beautiful," Pedro murmured, his voice thick, his fingers tightening slightly on her shoulder.
She leaned forward, inhaling him deeply. Then, without preamble, she took the head into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the sensitive ridge, tasting salt and skin and pure him. A low groan tore from his chest, his head falling back against the headrest.
"Dios, Rina..."
She hummed in response, the vibration making him jerk. She took him deeper, slowly, deliberately, her lips stretching around his girth. She focused on the rhythm, on the feel of him filling her mouth, the weight on her tongue. She hollowed her cheeks, sucking firmly as she pulled back, then slid down again, taking him deeper each time. Her hand wrapped around the base of his shaft, stroking in counterpoint to the movements of her mouth, her thumb rubbing over the sensitive vein underneath.
She set the pace, slow and deep, building the pressure. His hips twitched, a subconscious urge to thrust, but he held himself still, letting her control it. His restraint was its own kind of thrill, a testament to his focus on her pleasure even as his own built relentlessly. His breathing turned ragged, punctuated by low, guttural groans that vibrated in his chest.
"Just like that... fuck, baby... your mouth feels... goddamn..." The words dissolved into incoherent sounds as she took him impossibly deep, her nose pressed against the coarse hair at his base, holding him there for a moment, feeling him pulse against her tongue.
She could feel the tension coiling in him, the telltale tightening of his balls beneath her stroking hand. His thighs trembled. Before he could tip over the edge, she pulled off with a wet pop, leaving him throbbing and glistening. She looked up, her lips swollen, her eyes dark and heavy-lidded with her own arousal.
"Not yet," she whispered, her voice rough. Her hands went to the waistband of her own soft lounge pants, pushing them and her damp panties down her hips in one swift movement, kicking them aside. "Need you inside me."
She didn't wait for him to move. She climbed back onto the wide seat, straddling his lap, facing him. The cool leather was a shock against her heated skin. She braced her hands on his shoulders, her sapphire eyes locked onto his deep brown ones. She saw the flare of pure, unadulterated hunger in them, mirroring her own.
Reaching between them, she guided the thick head of his cock to her entrance. She was slick, swollen, aching for him. She lowered herself slowly, inch by excruciating inch, letting her body stretch to accommodate him, feeling every ridge, every vein as he filled her. A low, ragged moan escaped her as she settled fully, her ass resting on his thighs, him buried to the hilt inside her tight, wet heat.
"Fuuuuck," Pedro groaned, his hands flying to her hips, fingers digging in almost painfully. His eyes were squeezed shut for a second, jaw clenched against the overwhelming sensation. "Rina... you're so fucking wet... so tight..."
She began to move. Slowly at first, rolling her hips, grinding down against him, feeling him rub deliciously against her clit with each downward stroke. She threw her head back, her blonde hair cascading over her shoulders, a low whimper escaping her lips. The friction was sublime, the fullness perfect. She picked up the pace, rising on her knees until only the head remained inside, then sinking back down, taking him deep and hard.
"Yes," Pedro gasped, his own hips lifting to meet her downward thrusts. "Ride me, baby. Fucking ride me." His hands roamed her body – squeezing her ass, skimming up her sides to cup her breasts through her thin top, thumbs finding her hardened nipples and pinching gently. She cried out, her rhythm faltering for a second, then becoming more frantic.
The world outside ceased to exist. There was only the thrum of the jet, the slap of skin on skin, the slick sounds of their joining, their mingled gasps and groans filling the luxurious cabin. Sweat beaded on Pedro's temples, dampened Rina's hairline. She leaned forward, bracing her hands on the back of the seat behind his shoulders, changing the angle. He hit a deeper spot, making her gasp, her inner muscles clenching violently around him.
"Oh god, Pedro... right there..." Her voice was a broken whisper. "Don't stop... don't ever stop..."
"Not a chance," he ground out, his voice thick with strain. He thrust up harder, meeting her downward plunge. His fingers found her clit again, rubbing tight, insistent circles. "Come for me, Rina. Let me feel it."
The dual assault was too much. The coil deep inside her snapped. Pleasure detonated, radiating outwards in blinding waves. Her body arched, rigid, a choked, guttural cry tearing from her throat as her cunt clamped down on his cock in rhythmic, pulsing spasms. Her vision went white at the edges, her fingers digging into his shoulders.
Feeling her convulse around him, Pedro lost his fragile control. With a deep, ragged groan that sounded like it was ripped from his soul, he thrust up one final time, burying himself impossibly deep, and came. Hot jets of cum pulsed into her, thick and heavy, filling her contracting heat. He shuddered violently, his head falling forward against her chest, his breath coming in harsh, ragged gasps as he emptied himself inside her.
Rina collapsed forward, boneless, her face buried in the crook of his neck, her body still trembling with aftershocks. She felt the hot spill of him inside her, the frantic hammering of his heart against her own. His arms wrapped around her tightly, crushing her to him, holding her as if she might dissolve.
They stayed locked together like that for long minutes, the only sounds their labored breathing gradually slowing, the drone of the engines a constant backdrop. Sweat cooled on their skin. Pedro pressed desperate, open-mouthed kisses to her shoulder, her neck, murmuring against her damp skin, words in Spanish too low and garbled to decipher, but the reverence was clear.
Finally, Rina lifted her head. Her eyes were hazy, her lips swollen. She managed a weak, utterly sated smile. "Well," she breathed, her voice wrecked. "That's one way to pass the time over Kansas."
Pedro chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest and into hers. He cupped her face, his thumb brushing her cheekbone. His eyes, dark and soft, held hers. "Best inflight service I've ever experienced." He kissed her, slow and deep and lingering, tasting of sweat and shared exertion and her.
She shifted reluctantly, wincing slightly as he slipped from her body, a warm trickle following. She slid off his lap onto the seat beside him, immediately curling into his side. He pulled a soft cashmere throw from the adjacent seat and draped it over them both, tucking it around her shoulders.
Silence settled again, comfortable and thick with the aftermath of intimacy. He traced idle patterns on her arm under the blanket.
"Think the crew heard?" she mumbled against his chest, her eyes drifting closed.
"If they did, they're professionals," he murmured, kissing the top of her head. "Besides, probably made their day more interesting."
She snorted softly. "You're impossible."
"And you," he said, his voice a low caress, "are everything."
A small smile touched her lips. She nestled closer, the deep hum of the jet and the solid warmth of him beneath her lulling her back towards sleep. The lights of cities far below began to wink into existence as dusk crept across the continent. Rome, with its ancient stones and echoing bells, felt like a lifetime ago. The only reality that mattered now was the scent of him on her skin, the lingering throb between her thighs, and the quiet certainty that wherever they landed, they'd leave their mark. Just like they always did.