Page 18 of Falling for the Playboy Pilot

JANNA

H e didn’t move. Not at first. His eyes locked on mine, and I could see the war raging behind them.

I didn’t know which side would win, but I wasn’t about to back down.

My heart was pounding so hard I was sure he could hear it, but I held my ground, my chin tilted up in defiance.

I wanted to kiss the man. I didn’t care if it was a mistake.

I just needed to know if the desire I felt was real.

Maybe it was all in my head and he wasn’t the god I had built him up to be.

He was just a man.

I had kissed many men. Okay, maybe not many, but there was something about him that I could not resist. It was like a moth to a flame and I knew I was going to get burned but it wasn’t enough to stop me. I was about to beg him to kiss me when he moved.

His lips crashed into mine with a hunger that took my breath away.

It wasn’t gentle or tentative. It was raw, desperate, and all-consuming.

His hands found my waist, pulling me flush against him.

I melted into the heat of his body. The kiss was so much better than I had fantasized about.

His stubble scraped against my skin, rough and grounding.

I tangled my fingers in his hair to keep him close.

He pushed me against the plane. His lips were relentless, demanding, and I gave in completely.

Between his hard body and the solid plane behind me, I was smashed in the best way possible.

His hands roamed, one sliding up my side to cradle my face, the other gripping my hip like he was afraid I’d slip away. I wasn’t going anywhere.

I kissed him back with everything I had. My fingers tightened in his hair as I pulled him closer. His tongue brushed against mine, and a low groan escaped him, vibrating through me. Every nerve in my body was on fire, every thought drowned out by the feel of him. I couldn’t get enough.

His hand slid from my hip to my ass. He squeezed and pulled me against him.

I could feel every hard line of his body, the way his muscles tensed under my touch.

My other hand found its way under his shirt, skimming over the warm skin of his stomach.

He hissed at the contact, breaking the kiss for just a moment to catch his breath before diving back in.

The world outside didn’t exist. It was just us. My heart was racing with the knowledge we might get caught at any second. This was reckless and impulsive and everything I didn’t know I needed.

He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against mine. We both struggled to catch our breath. “I need you,” he groaned.

“Fuck me, please.” The words were out before I could think twice. I didn’t mean to beg. I sounded like a needy bitch. I couldn’t help it. The man had me twisted up. I had never wanted someone so badly. Want wasn’t the right word. Need. Demanding. My body required the man like it required air.

Dalton’s lips curled into a smirk. He stepped back, his eyes piercing right through me.

Without another word, he grabbed my hand and pulled me into one of the small storage rooms nearby.

The door slammed shut behind us, plunging us into darkness.

I couldn’t see a thing but I could feel his presence all around me.

His hands moved over my body before he jerked my shirt up and over my head, revealing my lace-covered breasts.

He groaned softly, his hot breath tickling my skin.

His mouth trailed kisses down my stomach toward my waistband.

“Be patient,” he whispered against my skin, his voice rough with desire. “Let me take care of you.”

Before I could respond, he undid my jeans and pushed them down my hips.

He knelt in front of me, pushing my jeans until they hit my ankles.

I was about to tell him I needed to take my boots off when he pulled my panties aside.

His warm breath caressed the sensitive flesh between my legs and he took me into his mouth with a force that made me gasp.

“Oh fuck,” I moaned as his tongue danced around my clit, driving me wild with need. I thrust my hips forward, grinding against his mouth. He slipped two fingers inside me, stretching and filling me in the most exquisite way possible.

It was just like him, attacking without giving me any warning. I would have fallen backward if it wasn’t for his hand on my hip, holding me upright.

The room spun around me as pleasure built up inside me like a storm gathering force. Every nerve ending was on fire, every thought drowned out by the feel of his mouth and fingers working in perfect harmony.

I called out his name like a prayer as I came apart in his hands, my body shaking uncontrollably from the intensity of the orgasm that rocked through me.

When I could finally think straight again, I pulled at him.

I was so not done with him. He slowly stood and I grabbed his face and kissed him, tasting myself on him.

It was the best aphrodisiac. I ripped at his shirt, jerking it up and over his head.

And then I pushed him hard. I had to taste him.

Feel him. The man consumed my every cell. He was embedded in my DNA.

Suddenly, the room was flooded with light.

“Shit,” Dalton muttered.

I realized he accidentally turned on the light. But holy shit. I got my first real glimpse of the man shirtless.

My breath caught in my throat as I took in the sight of him.

The man was a work of art. Holy shit. Every muscle defined, every line carved with precision.

But it was the tattoos that made my mouth go dry.

Intricate tribal flames licked up his left shoulder and wrapped around his bicep, the black ink standing out against his tanned skin.

On his right shoulder, a pair of aviation wings spread wide, detailed and bold, marking him as one of the sky’s own.

But it was the piece across his chest that stopped me cold.

A shadowy silhouette of a Hercules C-130 stretched from one side to the other, the aircraft rendered in stunning detail with shading that made it look like it was flying right off his skin.

The plane seemed to emerge from clouds of ink that swirled around his ribs, disappearing and reappearing like it was cutting through real storm clouds.

My eyes traveled lower, taking in the defined ridges of his abs, the V that disappeared into his jeans. My mouth watered. I wasn’t big on giving head, but I had to consume the man.

I jerked at the button of his jeans and quickly unzipped.

I dropped to my knees and yanked his pants down.

I froze. I saw the scars—angry, raised lines that ran down his left leg, clearly from burns.

They should have been ugly, a mar on perfection, but instead they just made him more real, more human.

Less godlike and sexier than any man I had ever laid eyes on.

“Shit,” I breathed, my hands hovering over his chest, afraid to touch something so beautiful. It might disappear. “You’re…”

“Scarred up,” he finished, his voice rough.

“Perfect,” I corrected, finally letting my palms flatten against his skin. “Absolutely perfect.”

His eyes darkened at my words.

“My turn,” I whispered, looking up at him through my lashes as I freed him from his jeans. “Let me take care of you.”

I took him in my hand, feeling the weight and heat of him.

He was thick and hard and of course big.

Huge. Again, I didn’t have a high body count, but he was absolutely the biggest yet.

I could feel his pulse through the silky skin.

His breath hitched as I stroked him slowly, learning the feel of him, the way he responded to my touch.

I leaned forward and took him into my mouth.

“Jesus,” he groaned, his head falling back.

The taste of him was intoxicating, salt and heat and something uniquely him. I started slow, my tongue swirling around the head before taking him deeper. His hand found my hair, not pushing, just holding, like he needed something to anchor himself to.

I could feel his control slipping with every movement of my mouth. The salty taste of him drove me wild. The sounds he made sent heat shooting through me. I’d never felt so powerful, so in control, as I did with this strong, guarded man falling apart under my touch.

“Fuck, Janna,” he breathed, his voice strained. “You’re gonna kill me.”

I pulled back just enough to look up at him, my lips still brushing against him. “Good,” I whispered, before taking him deep again.

His hips jerked forward involuntarily. A loud groan erupted from his throat. I could feel him fighting to stay still, to let me set the pace. But I wanted him to lose control. I wanted to be the one to break through all those walls he’d built around himself.

I hollowed my cheeks, taking him as deep as I could, and felt his entire body tense. His grip tightened in my hair, and I could tell he was close.

“Wait, I’m—” he started to warn me, but I didn’t pull away. I wanted all of him.

I could feel him pushing against the back of my throat. I didn’t gag. I just sucked him harder.

“Janna.”

My name on his lips nearly had me orgasming again. And that was when he found his release. He came with a shuddering groan. I stayed with him through it, savoring the way he trembled, the way his breathing came in ragged gasps. I swallowed every last drop of him.

When he finally stilled, I pulled back and looked up at him. His eyes were dark and intense, studying my face like he was trying to memorize it.

“Come here,” he said roughly, pulling me up to him. His mouth crashed into mine again, and I could taste the desperation in his kiss.

We were both breathing hard, our bodies pressed together in the small space. The reality of what we’d just done was starting to sink in, but I couldn’t bring myself to regret it. Not when he was looking at me like that.

I felt empty. I was so not done with him. I needed to feel him inside me. He was big and I knew his girth would stretch me and fill me like I had never been filled before.

I didn’t realize how tightly wound I had been. He slipped his hands between my legs and felt my slickness.

He smirked against my lips. “Really?”

“Stop,” I said.

I wasn’t going to be embarrassed. It had been a while. I was a little… extra.

He smiled. Like a real smile. Not the cocky, arrogant smirk he often flashed. In the afterglow, he looked almost vulnerable. Almost like a man that could smile and laugh and be normal.

I wondered what happened to him to make him that way. Laser had said he wasn’t always so sad. I took a moment to run my hand over the tattoo on his chest and down his ribcage. Flames. Fire. The man has been dipped in the flames. Forged in fire.

Just as I was about to suggest we find somewhere more comfortable to finish what we’d started, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the hangar. Gilbert’s voice carried across the space, talking to someone on his phone about parts and delivery schedules.

Dalton’s eyes went wide, and we both froze like deer in headlights.

Without thinking, I slapped my hand over his mouth to muffle any sound he might make, and he did the same to me.

The absurdity of the situation—both of us half-naked, pressed against each other with our hands clamped over each other’s mouths—was so ridiculous that I felt laughter bubbling up in my chest.

Dalton’s eyes crinkled at the corners. I could tell he was fighting the same urge to laugh. His shoulders shook slightly, which only made it harder for me to keep quiet. I bit down on my lip behind his palm, trying desperately not to make a sound.

Gilbert’s footsteps grew closer, then thankfully moved toward the other side of the hangar where his tools were. We could hear him muttering to himself about the parts he needed, completely oblivious to our presence in the storage room.

We stayed frozen like that for what felt like an eternity, staring into each other’s eyes, our bodies still pressed together. His erection had returned and pressed against my belly. The intimacy of the moment was somehow even more intense than what we’d just shared.

Finally, Gilbert’s voice faded as he moved outside, probably to check on something else. We waited another few beats before slowly dropping our hands from each other’s mouths.

“That was close,” I whispered, barely able to contain my giggles.

“Too close,” he whispered back, but I could see the amusement dancing in his eyes.

We quickly and quietly pulled on our clothes, trying to make ourselves presentable. The small space made it awkward, our bodies bumping into each other as we dressed, which only added to the surreal nature of what had just happened.

When we were both decent, Dalton cracked the door open and peered out. After a moment, he nodded and we slipped out of the storage room like a couple of teenagers.

The hangar was empty again. Gilbert had moved on to whatever other tasks demanded his attention. We stood there for a moment, suddenly awkward now that we were back in the real world. The weight of what we’d just done hung between us, and I wasn’t sure what to say.

“I should…” I started, gesturing vaguely toward the exit.

“Yeah,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “Me too.”