I crossed to Beacon’s seat.
“Come with me.”
She didn’t ask what I wanted. She didn’t tell me no. She reached for her crutch, planted it, and got to her feet.
I moved aside to allow her to step into the aisle.
“Go ahead,” I said.
I walked a half-step behind her to the plane’s aft, close enough that if her knee buckled, I could catch her, far enough that nobody in the main cabin had a reason to look twice at the two of us. She passed the galley and slowed for a second at the edge of it. The crutch paused on the carpet.
“Keep going.”
The stateroom was at the rear of the cabin, behind a door that looked like the wall. I came up behind her, reached around her shoulder, and turned the handle. My other hand landed on the small of her back, and I moved her through the doorway. She didn’t resist.
I closed the door behind us and locked it.
She was facing the room. I took her good arm, turned her, and pressed her against the wall beside the door.
Then I kissed her.
I gripped her chin and held her where I wanted her. Her mouth opened under mine, and I thrust my tongueinto it. When she whimpered, I leaned away enough to see her face.
Her eyes bored into mine, but she didn’t speak.
“Unless I specifically ask you a question, if you make a sound, I stop. Do you understand me?”
She nodded.
“Say it.”
“I understand.”
“Good.”
Her hand fisted my shirt as I worked the button of her pants loose one-handed and kept her mouth busy with another kiss. The button gave, and I lowered her zipper.
I broke the connection long enough to put my mouth against her ear and eased my hand inside her panties. “I have wanted to do this since I stripped you bare and put you in that shower.”
She was so wet that my fingers slid against her without effort. She was hot and tight, and when I curled my fingers, her whole body jerked against the wall, and she bit her lip.
Before her leg could buckle, I put one arm behind her knees, the other around her waist, and lifted heronto the stateroom bed. She weighed nothing. I followed her down, eased her pants over the brace, and knelt between her legs.
“Bishop, I need more,” she whispered.
“Shh.”
I spread her legs, rested my palms on the inside of her thighs, and brought my mouth to her. Her taste hit my tongue, and my hips pressed down into the mattress, my cock aching behind the zipper.
I licked through her folds, and when she gasped, I stilled and waited for her to quiet. Her thigh quivered under my hand, and her pulse beat against my thumb.
When I licked again, she wove her fingers into my hair and her hips came up off the bed. I laid my forearm across her belly, gently enough not to hurt her ribs but firmly, so she couldn’t move away from me.
I took my time, bringing her to the edge, then pulling my fingers away and kissing the inside of her thigh until she settled. I did it again, then a third time, and when her hand tightened in my hair hard enough to tell me she was ready to scream, I smiled against her skin.
Through it all, Beacon was silent.
When I finally let her come, her whole body went rigid under my arm. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. Her eyes stayed on me as her essence flooded my tongue. I was so close to coming with her. Only the idea that the first time I let myself, it would be inside her, gave me the restraint I needed.
