Page 7

Chapter Six

Sophia

This plane is a far cry from the commercial flights I have taken in the past. Angelo’s private jet is luxurious. It offers the kind of opulence that makes it hard to forget who I’m dealing with. The seats are plush, the lighting soft, and the air feels crisp, like it’s somehow fresher than the air outside.

The plane’s engines hum softly, a steady vibration that thrums through the plush seats. It’s the only sound breaking the thick silence between Angelo and me. Outside, the night sky is an endless expanse of darkness, the clouds below us like a blanket of uncertainty.

And then there is Angelo. Sitting across from me, his presence is impossible to ignore. He is calm, almost too calm, as if he is completely at ease with the situation. But I’m not fooled. I can feel the tension in the air, thick and heavy, like a storm waiting to break. It isn’t just the situation that has me on edge—it’s him.

Every time I look at him, I feel a pull, something magnetic that makes it hard to think straight. It’s infuriating, how he manages to get under my skin without even trying, how he can make my heart race with just a glance.

I hate it, hate that he has this power over me. But there is no denying the chemistry between us, the way my body reacts to him, even when my mind screams at me to keep my distance.

As if sensing my thoughts, Angelo shifts in his seat, his gaze sliding over to me. His eyes are bright and intense. It’s the kind of look that makes it hard to breathe. I try to ignore it, try to focus on anything else, but it’s impossible.

The air between us is charged, crackling with unspoken tension, and I can feel it pulling us closer together, drawing me into his orbit.

“Stop looking at me like that.” I probably sound like a petulant child, but I can’t help it.

“Like what?” His voice is low and inviting. I feel it in my core as it washes over me. I can’t help it that I’m clenching my thighs together, and I release a shaky breath as his eyes follow the movement of my legs.

“Like what, Sophia?” he says again.

I swallow, already feeling my nipples tightening to hard buds. Maybe it hadn’t been the brightest idea to wear my flimsiest lace bra when I knew how much he affected me, or maybe a part of me had wanted to be ready for…for what?

What’s that thing Justine always says? When in doubt, go for hard, unfiltered honesty.

“Like you're thinking about fucking me.”

Something shifts in his gaze. His eyes narrow slightly, as if he has been waiting for those words. He stands, his movements fluid and deliberate, and he crosses the small space between us. I watch him, my breath catching in my throat as he reaches out, his hand brushing against my arm, sending a shiver down my spine.

“And if I am?”

My heart pounds in my chest, every rational thought slipping away as his fingers trace a line down my arm, his touch light but electrifying. I look up at him, meeting his gaze, and for a moment, everything else falls away—the fear, the uncertainty, the questions.

All that is left is him, and the way he makes me feel.

“I should tell you to fuck right off.”

That makes him smile.

“Will you?”

I shake my head.

“Good,” he replies, his voice a low rumble. “Because I’ve been waiting for this.”

My breath hitches, every nerve in my body on fire as his lips brush against mine. The touch is so light it’s almost maddening. I can feel the heat radiating from him, and the tension coils tighter within me, ready to snap.

And then, in one swift movement, he closes the distance between us, his lips capturing mine in a kiss that is anything but gentle. It’s fierce, hungry, filled with all the pent-up desire we have been trying so hard to ignore.

I gasp against his mouth, my hands gripping his shirt as I kiss him back, all thoughts of resistance melting away.

He pulls me closer, his hands roaming over my body, exploring, claiming. I can feel his heartbeat against mine, the steady rhythm mirroring the rapid pace of my own. Everything else fades into the background.

There is only this, only him, and the way he makes me burn.

“Angelo,” I breathe, my voice full of desperation.

“Say that again.”

He sounds crazed, his fingers already slipping underneath the hem of my dress, teasing me as they progress toward my aching core.

“Angelo.” It doesn’t even sound like my voice speaking his name. I sound like a woman in a porn video. I feel a sharper throb of want in my pussy.

“Fuck, I've dreamed of you calling out to me, just like this, but in my dreams. You’re naked and draped over my lap, and my handprint is on your ass.”

I was wet before, but his words turn on the waterworks for real. I feel his fingers sliding through my wetness and he growls approvingly.

“What are you waiting for, then?”

He doesn't need any more encouragement before he’s yanking the dress over my head and tossing it to the floor. His calloused palm slides down my throat and into the valley between my lace-clad breasts.

“Fucking perfect. I knew they would be.”

He palms a breast, twisting and turning the nipple between his thumb and forefinger and I throw my head back in ecstasy. He deftly removes my bra so that he can attend to both of my breasts, licking, biting, sucking.

“Don’t stop,” I beg, holding on to fistfuls of his thick hair.

He lifts me off my seat and my breasts bounce perkily as I settle onto my feet again. I can hear myself panting, the sound filling the space between us as I stare at him, captured by his smoky green eyes. I think again of the fairy smut I have been reading and I want to cackle with delight. This is so much better than any book.

It’s almost obscene, standing before him wearing just my lacy thong and my arousal while he is still fully dressed.

“You’re breaking the rules of the game Angelo.”

“And what are the rules? Tesoro mio ?”

As he speaks the words, he casts his jacket onto the seat behind him and starts taking off his tie. I swallow hard as I watch him revealing himself a little bit at a time. He unbuttons the top two buttons of his shirt, but then he stops. He gives me a smile, and my heart flips over in my chest. We just stare at each other for a moment. I squirm, desperate for him, desperate for his touch.

“Clothes off,” I finally say to him.

“Take them off yourself, Tesoro mio. ”

Gladly.

I begin unbuttoning his shirt, but my fingers are trembling so much that he takes over. I bend forward to run my tongue down his torso, and he groans.

“I like that a little too much.”

I bite on his nipple next, and I am rewarded with his shocked hiss.

“There should be rules about this,” I say against his skin. “We should have boundaries.”

He chuckles, and I can feel the sound through my lips. I tilt my head back to look up at him, at his too-handsome face, at his full lips, at the sultry heat in his eyes.

“Rules are made to be broken,” he whispers as he slips two fingers inside of me.

“Oh fuck.” I hold on to him for dear life as he curves his fingers, hitting that sweet, mythical spot that most men can’t ever find. I cry out as waves upon waves of pleasure wash over me.

My orgasm crashes into me so suddenly that I fall against him, a sopping, shaking mess.

“Oh my God,” I pant, clinging to his bare arms, my face pressed against his smooth chest. “Oh my God.”

“You look beautiful when you come,” he says huskily. He sets me away from him for a moment so that he can take off his pants. I blink a little as he turns to face me again, taking in the size of him. He’s huge, but he’s perfect.

I abruptly remember Justine talking about a guy she was hooking up with who had “the prettiest penis” she had ever seen. I remember laughing at her, because how could a penis be “pretty”? However, looking at Angelo, I suddenly understood what she meant. He’s beautiful from head to toe, utterly perfect in every way.

“My turn,” I announce, dropping to my knees and wrapping my hands around his length. I suck him into my mouth with an eagerness that surprises even me.

“Sophia…fuck!”

My tongue works over his skin as I fist the length of him and tug gently. I start to take him deeper, but he pulls me gently away.

“This is very generous of you, but this is not what I want right now.” He looks down at me, his chest rising and falling.

“What do you want, then?” I ask, licking my lips.

He says something in Italian that I don’t understand, but the words are musical and beautiful in my ears. He pulls me to my feet, turning to take a seat. He tugs me onto his lap, and in one fluid, mind-numbing stroke, he buries himself inside me.

We sigh in unison, and I move against him, unable to hold still. He’s big, and there’s a bit of pain, but the pleasure is already overcoming the little prickles of discomfort at taking him in one stroke.

“Fuck, I knew it would be like this,” he says his hands lifting my hair off my shoulders. I feel his cock twitch inside of me.

“Like what?”

“Perfect. Fucking perfect.”

Something inside of me cracks open, like the lid coming off a jar that has been sealed too tight for a long time. I swoop down to kiss his lips, and he starts moving inside of me. We quickly find a cadence together, as if we have been doing this for years.

“Angelo,” I gasp, tipping my head back as my orgasm looms. “I’m going to come.”

“Do it,” he orders me, his voice sharp. His long fingers come to rest on my clit just as he slaps my ass hard with the other hand. “Come for me, Tesoro mio.”

As if my body was waiting for his command, I shatter, screaming his name as I tremble against him. I cling to him as I see stars, dying and being born again, a changed person. I had no idea sex could be like this. I have never experienced anything that approaches it in all of my life.

Angelo murmurs something approving in Italian, and strokes into me two more times before coming, his fingers tangled in my hair, tugging until it hurts, his cheek pressed between my breasts.

We stay still for a moment, both gasping for air, both sticky with sweat and our mingled pleasure.

“That was…” I start to say, but stop. I have no words for what I just experienced.

“Incredible,” he says simply, pressing a warm kiss to the spot between my breasts. “You are incredible, Tesoro mio.”

“What does that mean?” I ask, shifting a little as my foot cramps up.

“My darling, or my treasure,” he replies, helping me to lift myself off him.

I’m not sure what to make of that. We barely know one another, but then again, what we just shared changes everything. I don’t know if I want to be his darling, but I like the way the endearment sounds falling off his lips.

“Don’t overthink it,” he suggests, tweaking my nose playfully. “The sex was good. Leave it at that.”

I smirk at him. “Good” doesn’t even begin to cover it. I still feel weak in the knees and my body keeps clenching with little aftershocks of pleasure.

“Come on,” he says, taking my hand. “Let’s get cleaned up and dressed. I’m sure the flight crew is tired of hiding out.”

I feel a flush rush over my skin. I had completely forgotten where we were and what we were doing. I look around, horrified, and scoop up my clothing from the floor. I notice with renewed horror that there’s a wet spot on the chair where we fucked.

Angelo starts laughing, the sound bright and carefree, and I feel my worries dissolve a little. “Don’t panic. They won’t talk about this,” he assures me. He leans over to whisper in my ear. “Besides, I’ve always wanted to join the mile-high club.”

I giggle in spite of my embarrassment and follow him toward the bathroom at the back of the plane to get cleaned up.