Gloria's Revenge (3 page)

“Good girl, Gloria. What are you feeling?”

Did he really expect me to speak? I could barely breathe as his cock jettisoned into me. Faster! Harder! Sparing me, he sunk his lips onto mine. I breathed into his mouth, short sharp breaths, as if it were an oxygen bag. As if my life depended on it. The sound of his pounding flesh washed out the rattling of the plane. The air pressure around me dropped as the pressure inside me built. His ruthless pounding took over every fiber of my being. The only turbulence I felt was the turbulence inside me. A tailwind that was spiraling inside me like a tornado. Taking all of me with it. “Stay with me, Angel,” Jaime breathed into my ear, his thrusting cock knocking the wind out of me and driving me closer to the edge.

My orgasm was taking off. Just like a jet. Whooshing across the tarmac of my core. Soaring inside me. He was riding me to heaven. Stars swarmed my head. I was flying.

“Gloria, now!” he cried out, as he rocketed to climax. His organ exploded like a meteor, as I crashed around him. Breathing heavy, he buried his head between the soft puffs of clouds that were my breasts. I began to sob. Loud heaving sobs that wracked my body.

“It’s okay, angel; it’s over now,” he said softly. “I’ve got you.” He threaded his fingers through my hair and then smothered my sobs with a deep, passionate kiss. I melted into him.

Our entwined tongues glided smoothly and so did the plane. We had reached a plateau. I was at last safe with this man, this pilot who could take me under his wings, navigate my body, and then fly me into outer space and make me lose control.

I was floating like a magic carpet. Jaime Zander had conquered my fear of flying. Safe in the harbor of arms, I closed my eyes and let the hum of the plane lull me to sleep.

Chapter 5

“G
ood morning, everyone. This is your captain. We’ll be making our descent into Los Angeles shortly.”

Los Angeles?
The City of Angels. Had I died and gone to heaven? I peeled my eyes open, one at a time. Sunlight trickled through two small oval windows and made me squint. In my totally disoriented state, it took me a long second to figure out where I was. My eyes spun around the chamber. I was on Jaime’s Zander’s private plane, half-undressed, in a comfy bed tucked under a duvet with a seat belt secured around my abdomen. I ached everywhere. My chest felt like it had been sledge hammered; my insides felt torn, and my limbs felt bruised. My eyes landed on my black leggings and ballet flats strewn on the carpeted floor. The memories of last night’s extreme turbulence and that turbulent fuck with Jaime came crashing at me like a meteorite. Holy, holy fuck! It all felt like a surreal dream.

Jaime Zander’s intoxicating scent engulfed me. My eyes darted to the fluffy pillow next to mine. Scrunched up, it had definitely been slept on. But where the hell was he? I bet while I was crashed out, the plane dropped him off in New York. Wait! Did I sleep through a landing and takeoff? Was I really almost in LA? Shit! I’d better get up, showered, and dressed.

I undid the seat belt and pulled my cashmere sweater, the one item of clothing still on my body, up over my head. God was I sore, especially my breasts. As my head re-emerged, the door to the cabin swung open.

“Good morning, angel. Did you sleep well?”

My jaw dropped. It was Jaime! As sinfully sexy as ever. Dressed in a fresh pair of gray sweats that hung dangerously low on his lean hips and his torso bare. My eyes traveled down his perfectly chiseled arms—the arms that had carried me to safety. He was carrying a steaming mug, the tantalizing aroma clearly that of coffee.

I bolted painfully to a sitting position, clutching the duvet to my chest to cover up my now fully naked body. Where I really wanted it was over my head. Mortification raced through my bloodstream. He had seen me at my ultimate worse. A basket case. I was the disaster waiting to happen—not the plane. My sleepy eyes averted the piercing gaze of his beautiful blue eyes. Wearing a cheerful grin, he loped my way.

“I thought you might like some coffee. I had it made just the way you like it—lots of cream.”

I greedily grabbed the mug out of his hand and wasted no time putting the steamy contents to my lips. I was in major need of a caffeine fix.

“Hey, don’t I get a thank you?”

“Thanks.” I flung the word at him with a wrinkle of my nose.

“You’re so cute when you make faces.”

Inside, I was steaming like the coffee. He was so deliberately exasperating. At least, he didn’t want to talk about last night.

After another sip of the delicious brew, it was back to business with this cocky Casanova though my heart was pounding. “What are you still doing here?”

“I have a client to see in Los Angeles.”

My insides rattled. The one he called “babe” on the phone?

“And then I thought, I could spend some time with you and get more familiar with your product line.”

Fine. As long as he didn’t want to get more familiar with me, I was okay with a meeting. I was about to say—“I’ll have my assistant Vivien set up something”—but caught myself just in time. I didn’t want his venomous stepsister to have anything to do with him. “I’ll check my calendar and set up a time. You can come over to our headquarters, and I’ll give you a tour.”

He smiled sheepishly. “That would be perfect. I’m really looking forward to getting my hands on that new BDSM line of lingerie.”

And his hands on me?
Stop, it Gloria!
I needed to figure out this complicated relationship. The events of last night had set me back. Was I going to let him fuck me as we moved forward? I knew what my mind was thinking and I knew what my body was thinking. For once, couldn’t they both agree?

Mulling the future, I continued to sip the delicious coffee. While each sip re-activated my brain, clarity still eluded me. My eyes stayed fixed on his gorgeousness as he ambled over to a closet. When he reappeared, a white tee was folded over a toned arm. I couldn’t get my eyes off him as he slipped the tee over his head. His pumped up biceps flexed, and the chiseled muscles of his chest stretched and rippled, that perfect-V elongating and spreading into those washboard abs. I watched, mesmerized, as his sexy, strong-featured face with its layer of dark stubble and crown of tousled chestnut hair emerged through the neck opening. God, why did he have to be so drop dead gorgeous? His gaze met mine as he tucked the tee into his sweats. My core was throbbing, and his cockiness knew it.

“I need to take a shower,” I said after a quick final glug of my coffee.

“Make yourself at home. It’s over there.” He pointed to a door opposite the closet.

Carefully holding the duvet around me like a toga, I slid out of the bed. Under Jaime’s smug, watchful gaze, I stood up and took my first steps. For the first time, I discovered how
really
sore I was from that turbulent sex. Every muscle in my body hurt like hell. I felt like I’d been run over by a bulldozer. Slowly and stiffly, I headed toward the bathroom. The stickiness between my legs didn’t help.

Jaime broke out into a bellow of laughter.

“Stop it!” I hissed without turning to look back at him. He didn’t. My blood was curdling. I was glad he couldn’t see my scrunched up face. It was not a pretty picture. I tightened the duvet around me as I continued my walk of shame.

The bathroom was, as I expected, state-of-the art, all creamy rich travertine and brass with high-end fixtures and appliances. An abundant pile of fluffy white and orange towels was stacked on a built-in shelf. Letting the duvet fall to the tiled floor, I stepped into the shower stall after first turning on the water and adjusting the temperature; I deliberately made it extra hot, hoping the steaming water would obliterate my aches. I closed the glass door behind me and positioned myself directly under the showerhead. The powerful hot spray pounded on my aching back, massaging the pain away. Grabbing a large sponge, I put it to my center and washed away the remains of last night. My sensitive folds throbbed beneath my touch. No matter how much I washed, I still felt him inside me. Pulsing, pushing me to the edge. The hum of the plane as it cruised through the air intensified the sensations.

I moved on to the rest of my body. I was shocked by how many bruises were scattered on my torso and my limbs. He had given me fucking, bruising, turbulent sex. Bastard! I hoped he looked for the worse. I was about to find out.

With a yank of the shower door, all six foot three inches of his gorgeous nakedness stepped inside the stall. I gasped.

“What are you doing here?”

He snorted. “What does it look like? I’m taking a shower.” He moved in closer to me so that we were face-to-face, sharing the hot, pounding water.

I eyed him from head to foot. There wasn’t one bruise on that god-like body. Not a single one!

He reciprocated by giving me the once-over. A maddening, roguish smile spread across his face. “Those are some pretty gnarly bruises.”

“You should say you’re sorry!”

He arched his brows. “Sorry that I saved your gorgeous ass?”

I clenched my teeth and my fists. Still clutching the sponge, I wanted to slap him with it. Before I could, he grabbed it out of my hand.

Gently, he circled it around each breast. I could feel my sensitive nipples pucker, sending the tingling sensation of arousal once again to my core. My breathing grew shallow.

I sucked in air between my teeth. “Stop it!”

Still washing my tender breasts, he leaned into me, strands of his drenched hair falling into his hooded eyes. “Come on, you don’t really want me to stop, Gloria.”

He was right. I stood paralyzed as the sparks inside me intensified. I could feel his erection pressing against my middle. He was turning himself on as he turned me on.

“I’m sorry about the bruises, angel.” There was genuine regret in his voice. “But no imperfections can mar your beauty…not even this one.”

I stiffened as he bent over and tenderly kissed my scar. The scar I wished I could rip off my body and throw away with the memories it held.

He released his mouth and his eyes lifted to mine. “It’s from a gunshot, isn’t it, Gloria?” I quivered as he ran his fingers gently over the shiny, raised flesh. It no longer had any feeling, but the ache it left in my heart never went away.

The spray of the shower cascaded over us like a summer thunderstorm. A bolt of lightening flashed through me, searing my nerves. “How do you know that?”

His eyes grew murky blue with pain. “My father. Remember, he put a gun to his head. I’m the one who found him. I’ll never forget what that bullet hole looked like. Never.”

“I’m sorry,” I murmured. I genuinely was. No child should have to endure that tragedy. Filled with both shame and sadness, I bowed my head. My eyes gazed down at the hideous scar just above my left breast. His long index finger continued to rub it gently.

“It almost pierced your heart, didn’t it?”

I said nothing. Emotionally, it did pierce my heart. The hole it left deep inside my soul had never closed up. Madame Paulette’s words rang in my ears.
“Ma chérie
, the scars that you don’t see are
zee
hardest to heal.”

Finally, I broke my silence. “I don’t want to talk about it. It has to do with something in my past that I’m trying to leave behind.” Tears threatened to spill from my eyes.

“Ah, the past that makes you who you are, Gloria. The past that you must let go of to move forward.”

His profound, insightful words tugged at my heartstrings. I hoped there’d come a day when I could close the door on my past but knew that was wishful thinking. It took all I had not to cry. I bit down on my quivering lip.

He gently tilted up my chin with his other hand. I met his soulful eyes—the eyes he rarely exposed but I loved most. I lost control. Tears escaped my eyes and mingled with the spray of the shower.

He tenderly brushed them away with the pads of this thumbs. “You’re crying, aren’t you?”

With a sniffle, I nodded. “I’m sorry. It’s just too painful to go there.”

“We all have our secrets, Gloria. Even I have mine. When you trust me with yours, I know your heart will be mine.”

I fidgeted with his exquisite
toi et moi
ring, trying to make sense of his words. Before I could ask what he meant, the captain’s muffled voice sounded in my ears.

“Mr. Zander and Ms. Long, we will be beginning our descent into Van Nuys Airport. Please return to your seats and make sure your seat belts are securely fastened.”

As I took a step toward the shower door, Jaime grabbed me by the elbow. In one smooth move, he spun me around and smashed his lips onto mine. The kiss was deep, passionate, and bruising. My mouth and my body sunk into it. I wrapped my arms around his broad shoulders, my wet velvet breasts rubbing against his sculpted pecs. His powerful erection pressed against my middle as I felt a thick long finger slide across my cleft. He ran circles around my clit, turning it into a hard nub and sending a current of pleasure to my core.

“Come on, Gloria. We have time for a quick fuck.”

“I don’t think so,” I said as I felt the plane descending.

It was too late. His hands had already parted my legs, making room for his slick, rigid length to penetrate me. I was still sore from last night’s rough encounter, but once he was in, my inner muscles relaxed and I was able to take him to the hilt. I moaned with ecstasy.

“Oh, angel, you’re incredible,” he breathed into my ear. His finger continued to work my clit as he pounded furiously. I clutched his shoulders for support while he cinched my waist with his free hand. My head arched, my eyes squeezed shut, and my mouth formed an “O.” Droplets of water fell onto my tongue. I undulated my hips, meeting his every mighty thrust. Grunting, he accelerated his pace, grinding harder and faster with single-minded fury. I felt like an airplane, going down, spiraling out of control. But I wasn’t afraid of crashing. I wanted to explode. Badly.

“Fall apart, now!” he commanded.

On his words, I broke into a million pieces. I screamed so loud I thought an attendant might hear us. Jaime shouted my name and shattered inside me, showering me with his own release.

We just stood there, forehead to forehead, our cloaked eyes just a palm’s width apart as the powerful shower beat down upon us. Slowly, he withdrew his cock.

“Come on, Ms. Long, it’s time to prepare for landing.” He took my hand in his and led me out of the shower.

As he wrapped a big fluffy white bath towel around me, I berated myself. Why hadn’t I resisted him?

Because he was too strong, too determined, too beautiful.

And because I was hopelessly, helplessly head over heels in love.