Page 333 of Don’t Say Mafia

“How?”

“Because you’re you,” he said simply.

I frowned. “That is not a real answer.”

He exhaled a quiet laugh and leaned back, still holding my hand. “I’m more worried about you not liking him.”

That caught me off guard. “What?”

“He’s slightly insane,” Jagger said. “The best and the worst guy ever.”

I stared at him. “That is not reassuring.”

He huffed out a laugh. “You know what you need?” he asked.

I narrowed my eyes. “To go back to Vegas?”

“A tour.” He grinned.

Before I could protest, he unbuckled my seat belt with one smooth flick of his wrist, then stood and tugged me up with him. His fingers laced through mine, and he led me toward the back of the plane.

The cabin narrowed as we moved past the bar and the cluster of seats. A sleek black door waited at the end, and Jagger turned the gold handle and pulled me inside.

My breath caught when I saw we were in a bedroom. A real freaking bedroom thirty thousand feet in the air.

The space carried the same black-and-gold aesthetic as the rest of the plane, but this time it centered around a king-sized bed. A row of oval windows lined one side of the cabin, framing nothing but open sky—an endless sweep of blue with thin ribbons of cloud drifting past. I got a little queasy staring outside at the dizzying drop below.

Jagger kicked the door shut behind us, and I jumped when he turned the lock. He turned to me, his eyes dark and hungry. “Still freaking out about flying?”

I swallowed. My pulse was a drumbeat between my thighs. “A little.”

He stepped closer, crowding me until the back of my legs hit the bed. “Let me fix that.”

His mouth slammed against mine. I parted my lips for him right away, tasting the faint burn of whiskey he’d had when we’d first gotten on the plane. His palms roamed without mercy, slipping beneath my top and cupping my breasts before his thumbs brushed over my sensitive peaks.

I whimpered against his tongue, and he drank in my cries before pulling back just long enough to rip my shirt off and then unhook my bra in one swift motion. Sudden coolness washed across my bare skin, and my nipples drew even tighter under his scrutiny.

“Fucking hell. Look at you,” he growled.

Jagger sank to one knee in front of me and pulled on the waistband of my leggings and underwear, dragging both down together in a single impatient yank. I stepped free on trembling limbs.

He rose slowly, never once breaking eye contact with me as he pulled off his shirt. The air between us thickened as his fingers moved to his belt and he tugged the leather loose before shoving his pants low enough to release himself. His cock jutted free, and I licked my lips at the fact that the swollen tip was already weeping precum.

Jagger fisted himself and closed the last step between us. “Open your mouth, baby,” he purred.

I parted my lips without hesitation, even though this was the first time we were doing this.

This wasn’t just my first time giving Jagger head . . . it was also the first time I’d ever really wanted to do it at all. With Ryan, it had always been a duty that I swallowed down like bad medicine. I’d hated the taste, the way my jaw ached, and the way it made me feel small and used. I’d never once felt that spark of heat low in my belly; I’d never once craved the stretch, the fullness, the weight pressing against my tongue.

But with Jagger?

The second he guided himself past my lips, something snapped awake inside me. My mouth watered instantly. I wanted this. I wanted him to fill me, I wanted to taste the salt and heat that was only his. To see his control fray because of what I was doing to him.

Jagger fed me his dick slowly, his eyes on mine as my lips stretched wide around him. I moaned at the salty taste of him, the sound vibrating around the head as he pushed in, inch by inch. My eyes were watering from the effort, but I didn’t pull away. I leaned forward instead, eager and greedy for more.

His free hand twisted gently into my hair, holding me exactly where he wanted while he rocked forward in shallow, measured pulses.

“That’s it,” he groaned. “Take it all for me. Fuck, look at you.”