Page 21 of Her Wicked Promise (The Devil’s Plaything #2)

Eva

T he private jet hums through the sky. I should be focused on the approach to Vegas. I can use this opportunity to meet with the Colombos again, assure them of my commitment. I should be planning that meeting.

Instead, I’m hyperaware of Robin sitting across from me.

She’s curled up in her seat, legs tucked beneath her, pretending to read some paperback she picked up in the airport. But I can see the tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers grip the book’s spine too tightly.

Rome changed something in me. The way she looked at the Colosseum with such wonder. The tears in her eyes when I told her we were going to Vegas. The realization that I would rearrange my entire schedule just to see her smile.

Dangerous territory.

I force myself to stare out the window. But my gaze keeps drifting back to her. The soft curve of her mouth. The way her strawberry blonde hair curls over her ear. The rise and fall of her chest beneath that simple white blouse.

The plane hits a pocket of turbulence, and Robin gasps, her book sliding to the floor with a soft thud. Her knuckles go white as she grips the armrests, and those blue eyes flash to mine—wide, startled, but trusting.

That trust hits me hard. Have I earned it from her?

Have I finally made up for all those terrible things I said to her when I lashed out, hurt her, made her hate me?

The plane steadies almost immediately, but Robin’s breathing is still quick and shallow. She’s never really gotten used to the occasional turbulence, has always been a nervous flier ever since the first time I spirited her away from Las Vegas. Without thinking, I unbuckle my seatbelt and stand.

“You’re scared,” I murmur, crossing to her.

I slide onto the seat beside her, my thigh pressing against hers through the soft fabric of her skirt. The contact sends heat spiraling through me. I reach up and cup her jaw with one hand, tilting her face toward mine.

“Eva—” she starts, but I silence her with my thumb against her lower lip.

“Shh.” My voice comes out rougher than intended. “Let me take care of you.”

The first kiss is slow, exploratory. I trace the seam of her lips with my tongue until she sighs and opens for me. For a moment she melts into me, soft and pliant. Then her hands fist in my collar, dragging me closer with a desperate hunger that matches my own.

The second kiss is harder, hungrier. I press her back against the seat as our teeth clash, tongues tangling in a battle for dominance that she surrenders with a moan that makes my clit throb. Her lips are already pinking up, her breath quick and harsh.

My hands seem to move of their own accord, skimming down her throat, feeling her pulse flutter beneath my fingertips. I pull off her top, yank down her bra to get at those perfect tits, nipples already hard for me. My thumbs brush over them, making her shiver.

I dip my head to pull one tight peak into my mouth. She gasps, arching her back, and I reward her with a gentle bite, just hard enough to make her squirm.

Her hands fumble with my jacket, pushing it off my shoulders. I shrug it off and toss it aside carelessly—something I never do. Everything about Robin makes me forget my own rules.

Her fingers tug at my silk blouse, sliding underneath to trace the taut muscles of my stomach. I suck in a sharp breath at the contact. Her touch is gentle but insistent, exploring me like I’m something precious she’s afraid to break.

And then she climbs into my lap.

The shift in power sends electricity through my veins. Robin straddles my thighs, her dress bunching up around her hips, and suddenly I’m the one struggling to maintain control. She looks down at me with those blue eyes, and I can only smile at her.

And when she leans down to kiss me again, her strawberry blonde hair creating a curtain around our faces, I know the truth I’ve been trying to ignore.

She matters more than anything has mattered in years.

More than anyone, ever.

I grip her hips tightly, steadying her as I kiss her with a rawness that surprises even me. My usual control is nowhere to be found. There’s only her warmth, her scent, her soft moans as my hands slide under her skirt.

I push aside her underwear and she shivers as my fingers stroke her. She’s already wet for me, and the knowledge sends a surge of possessive satisfaction through my blood. My fingers find her clit, sliding around it in a way that makes her shudder.

“Eva,” she breathes, her hips rocking against my hand.

I love the way she says my name. I move my fingers slowly at first, teasing, drawing out those little gasps and whimpers that have become my favorite sounds.

I circle her hard clit faster as her breath hitches.

Her hands tangle in my hair, tugging in a way that sends jolts of pleasure straight through me.

Robin’s body is a masterpiece of curves and softness, so different from my own lean and compact frame. But then she’s sunshine where I’m shadow, warmth where I’m ice. And somehow, impossibly, she fits against me like she was made for this.

Made for me.

I pull my hand from between her thighs, and she lets out a small noise of frustration. But I need to taste her, need to feel her coming against my tongue. I hook my fingers into the waistband of her panties and pull them down, letting her step out of them and kick them away.

Then she’s straddling me again, her thighs spreading wide, her wet pussy open for me.

I run a finger down her slit, then bring it to my lips, sucking it clean.

She watches me, eyes half-closed, her breathing fast and shallow, and then I let down the seat and wriggle down in it, my intentions clear.

She reaches for the headrest and pulls herself higher, lining up with my mouth.

I bury my face in her cunt and her taste floods my senses.

Sweet and musky and addictive. I can’t get enough of her.

My tongue moves faster, finding her clit and flicking it hard, making her gasp and grind against me.

I can’t breathe, but I don’t care, don’t need to.

All that matters is her, and the way she’s using me, fucking herself against my mouth.

“Oh, God, Eva, I’m gonna come.”

Her words go straight to my clit, making me ache with desire, and I grab her ass with both hands, pulling her tighter, encouraging her to take her pleasure.

She’s riding me, her juices smearing over my face, and then she tenses and shudders and cries out, her body going rigid as an orgasm rolls through her, her cunt clenching and releasing, her thighs shaking.

I let her clamber gently back into her seat, laughing at her dazed expression.

“Fuck,” she mutters. “The whole place is going to smell like…” She laughs. “Well, like we did what we just did.”

“So what?” I ask casually. “It’s my goddamn plane.

And I’m not done with you yet.” But just as I say that, the seat belt sign comes on.

I’m inclined to ignore it, but Robin looks a little nervous again, the antithesis of what I hoped to achieve.

I set my chair back to seated position. “Come on,” I tell her, pulling out the half of her seat belt that she’s sitting on. “Let’s get you strapped down.”

“You should put your seat belt on, too,” she says anxiously. “Just in case.”

“I plan to. Leon would be mortified if I managed to die from airplane turbulence.” But before I fasten my own belt, I reach over to snatch one of the soft blankets folded on an empty seat. I spread it over both of us and Robin snuggles into me. “Now we’re safe and private,” I purr into her ear.

She looks up at me, eyes sparkling. “What do you mean?”

“I mean there’s nothing like a little mutual fingering to pass the time when you’re trapped inside a metal tube high above the ground.”

Her laugh turns to a squeak as I run a hand up her thigh, tugging her skirt up again. Her panties are still on the ground, and when she spreads her legs, I can feel her damp heat.

“Don’t be selfish,” I tell her in mock admonition, and with a cheeky grin, Robin copies me, sliding her hand up under my skirt, too. We watch each other’s expressions as we tease, fingers moving in sync, and then we’re kissing again, tongues meeting, mouths hot and hungry.

I slip two fingers inside her easily, her heat making me groan. She’s tight and warm, her inner walls clenching around my fingers as they plunge into her. But her fingers on my clit are driving me crazy.

I’m usually a dominant lover. I love watching Robin react to my touch. But there’s something undeniably intoxicating about being on equal footing with her. We’re side by side here, facing each other, kissing, touching, sharing.

She’s the first woman I’ve been intimate with in a long time that I would consider an equal. It’s new, this feeling. New and overwhelming and a little terrifying.

Robin slides her fingers around the sides of my clit, pinning and almost pinching it, sending a shock of pleasure through my body. I’m so wet for her, so desperate. I can feel my own arousal dripping down the insides of my thighs.

We’re both panting, the sound almost drowned out by the engine noise. I press my palm against her pussy and grind the heel into her, letting her ride it. At the same time, she’s working my clit with her fingers, and I can feel myself getting closer.

As for Robin, she’s just about there, her breath coming in short gasps.

I keep rubbing her, letting her use my hand.

Her fingers falter on me, and then she cries out, her thighs squeezing around my hand as she comes.

And as she shudders, her fingers tighten reflexively, sending me over the edge, too.

My orgasm hits me hard and fast, and she kisses me to muffle my groans.

For a few moments we sit there panting, our hands still buried in each other. It’s blissfully peaceful.

“You’re dangerous, Novak,” Robin chuckles at last, her voice soft and sated.

“You know it,” I murmur back.

But it’s not true.

She’s the dangerous one. Robin Rivers, with her soft smiles and stubborn kindness and the way she makes me want things I can’t have.

We disentangle, tidy up, and I even change outfits, giving up on my creased jacket, but then we remain curled against each other in the seat as the plane hums softly around us.

Robin’s weight is a comfortable warmth against me, her breathing gradually evening out.

For a few brief minutes, the world beyond the cabin feels like it doesn’t exist.

And I can pretend that the journey is all there is. No destination. Just being here with her, forever.

But nothing lasts forever. Eventually, we’re disturbed by a steward bringing food, then by Leon, who wants to talk about security protocols, and at last by the pilot, who announces over the speakers that Las Vegas is in sight, and that we will begin our descent soon.

It’s time for me to meet Robin’s family.