Page 62 of Air Affair

Hank took the picnic basket out of the back.

“We’re going to go for a little flight, if that’s all right with you, princess.”

She smiled widely as she followed him to the hangar. “Always,” she said, taking his arm.

“I rented a Jenny for the afternoon. I checked her over this morning, and we shouldn’t have any unfortunate incidents like the last time I took you flying.”

She kissed his cheek. “I had a delightful time last time, despite the engine troubles.”

“Well today, I’m hoping to give you some thrills without putting you in mortal danger.”

“Smashing,” she said.

Hank handed her a cap and goggles, and she took off her hat to put them on. Then he helped her into the front cockpit before climbing into the rear. Soon he had the engine roaring and the propeller turning, and they were taking off. The sound made her shiver in anticipation of what was to come. Her whole body vibrated with the plane, making it impossible to ignore the deep longing she felt every time she looked at Hank.

As they climbed into the air, the familiar thrill of risk trickled through her veins. It felt different this time, though. It wasn’t an escape anymore. It was a vindication. She no longer wanted to flee her life. She wanted to revel in it. They soared up above Mineola, her new home, and she looked down fondly on the town. She could see the O’Donnell’s and Hank’s house. It was becoming a familiar geography, and she loved it.

Throwing her arms out, she basked in the sun, loving the way its heat caressed her skin as a cooling breeze blew by. The engine growled beneath her, thrusting them forward through the open skies, and she could sense Hank’s gaze on the back of her head.

He brought them down skillfully in a grass field next to a stretch of beach, and the plane shuddered to a halt. There was no one in sight in any direction: no roads, no houses, just them.

The landing was smooth, and as soon as they stopped, she turned around. Giving in to impulse, she slipped off her shoes, climbed on her seat backward, facing Hank, and leaned out over the fuselage, kissing distance from Hank’s face. He took full advantage, standing and kissing her slowly, savoring her lips and tongue as if she were a ripe fruit. Hooking his hands under her arms, he pulled her to him until she was perched on the fuselage, her legs on either side of him.

“Do you know how many times I’ve imagined you sitting like this in front of me as I flew?” he asked. “You’re a very distracting co-pilot, even when you aren’t there.”

She loved how much he wanted her and was delighted that he fantasized about her when he flew. Whether she was ready for matrimony or not, it was clear she would never meet another man that made her feel so much.

His hands traced her curves, coming to rest on her buttocks, and she wrapped her legs around him, needing his hard muscle between her thighs. Other things too. His arousal pressed right where she wanted him, and he groaned as she moved against him. The friction was such a delicious tease.

“You said you wanted to canoodle in a Jenny,” he said, kissing her again, deeper and longer.

“Yes, I did,” she said, pulling off his tie and unbuttoning his shirt and union suit so that she could touch his delicious chest. Oh, how she loved the feel of him, the taste and smell of him, everything about him. Her fingers trailed over the newly bare skin, exploring. “Mercy, you are a handsome man.”

Still too much clothing separated them. He unbuttoned her jumpsuit and pulled it partway down, leaving her in her chemise and corset. Then he pulled it the rest of the way off, and she slid down with him into the cockpit where she straddled him in his seat. His lips traveled to her chest as he gloried in the taste of her skin, loosening her corset and freeing her breasts. “God, I’ve missed you,” he said, taking one nipple in his mouth and tickling it with his tongue.

She moaned as he teased and tormented her breast, abrading her nipple lightly with his teeth. The intensity made her moan. Here she was in the cockpit of a Jenny just like she’d dreamed, and he was devouring her, consuming her, making her tremble. “Oh, Hank.”

“Yes, that’s it, princess. Say my name. Let me hear it on your lips.”

The curling warmth of his voice reached her deepest depths, resonating, vibrating, making her want to do sinful things. “Yes, Hank, please. I need more.”

His fingers found the part in her bloomers and began to tantalize her as he continued to make her fantasy come true. This man knew her too well. He handled her with all the tender subtlety he used to fly his plane, and she was melting as his fingers worked their magic.

“Say ‘Hank, I want you to touch me,’” he murmured.

“Hank, I want you to touch me.” She would do anything at all for him at that moment as long as he didn’t stop what he was doing. He was driving her mad.

“Say ‘Hank, I want your fingers inside me.’”

“Hank, I want your fingers ins—” In they went, and speech gave way to an extended wail. She came hard against his hand, the control stick of the Jenny grazing her back as she trembled in his lap.

“Now, tell me what you want. I want to hear you say the words,” he murmured in her ear.

“Please, I need you inside me. Please, Hank.” The hunger inside her could not be contained.

“Yes,” he growled as she unbuttoned his trousers and union suit, and he sprang free. “Yes, Rory.”

She slid down onto him.