Flying Read online

  “Wait,” Stella says, and sits. “Let me.”

  She brushes her lips over his belly, that soft patch of hair. Closing her eyes, she breathes in the warm, male scent of him. For a second or so, Stella lets herself nuzzle his skin while her hands run up the insides of his denim-clad thighs. She cups the weight of his testicles and runs her thumb over the hardening lump of his cock, but doesn’t undo the button. Not right away.

  She looks up at him with a smile. Truax isn’t smiling. His brow is furrowed. Mouth pursed. He cups a hand to her face, then strokes his fingers through her wig.

  “Why do you do this?” he asks.

  He could mean take men home from bars. He could mean wear a disguise. He could mean a lot of things, but Stella’s answer is the same for all the questions she can think he might be asking.

  “Because I want to.”

  His thumb rubs the line of her chin, then tucks into her mouth. She sucks gently, nipping at the tip of it, and is pleased at his reaction. His eyes go heavy-lidded. His lips part, moist from the swipe of his tongue. His hips bump a little forward. Beneath her hand, she imagines the throb of his cock, imprisoned by his jeans. He sighs when she undoes his zipper. When she takes him in her fist, stroking, her breath gusting over the sweetness of his thick erection, Truax gives a small, soft moan.

  “I haven’t had...this...in a really long time.”

  Stella pauses, the tip of her tongue so close to his cock he should be able to feel the heat of it. Her fingers twist around his shaft, her knuckles nudging the rim of his head. “No?”

  His hand caresses her wig again. She can feel the weight of his touch, of course, but it’s different than if he’d touched her own hair. For a moment, she considers slipping off the wig and letting her own hair down so he can tangle his fingers in it. Pull as hard as he wants.

  Instead, she takes him slowly into her mouth, sucking gently and using her tongue around the rim. Down, down, she engulfs his cock with her mouth until she can’t take any more. His cock is thick but not too long, and Stella’s able to brush her lips against his belly before sliding her mouth up and off him. Her hand follows behind and she strokes him while she looks up to see his reaction.

  He shudders. “Oh. God. So good.”

  “Good.” Stella smiles and takes him in her mouth again. Slow, slow, she sucks gently at first and then harder. She pushes his jeans and briefs down to his thighs and settles herself between his legs. He bends his knees a little, fucking into her mouth, and she lets him.

  The thickness of him, the length, both are just right. Stella lets herself get lost in the back and forth and up and down, sucking and stroking. She cups his balls with her other hand, stroking her thumb along the seam. His moans turn her on.

  She shifts her thighs, pressing them together to squeeze her clit with a delightful pressure that makes it unnecessary for her to use her hand on herself. She can probably get off this way, if it goes on long enough. For now, it’s enough to let her body fill with slow-growing pleasure.

  “I’m gonna come,” he mutters, and tries to pull away. “It’s too good.”

  “No such thing as too good.” Stella stops sucking him but keeps her grip with her fist. His cock is hard and gleaming from her mouth, gone that yummy shade of on-the-edge red. She lets her fingers drift up and down his shaft, avoiding the sensitive divot beneath the head. She blows a breath across it.

  Truax shudders and jerks; he lets out a low, guttural groan. But he doesn’t come, and Stella grins. She flicks her tongue once, twice, on the underside of his cock, which pulses.

  “Shhh,” she tells him. “Not yet.”

  He laughs breathlessly. “You’re killing me.”

  Stella, his cock still firmly in her fist, leans back. “How long has it been since you’ve had your cock sucked?”

  “Five years,” he says at once, no hesitation.

  Her fingers squeeze him gently. “That’s a long time. How come?”

  “My wife...” Truax chokes on the words or on the pleasure in his dick; it doesn’t matter. “She doesn’t like it.”

  “That’s a shame.” Stella rubs his slit with her thumb, covering the head of his cock with clear, sticky fluid. “And nobody else?”

  “I haven’t...with anyone else.”

  This stops her. “What?”

  For a moment, she thinks he’s going to pull away, but the allure of what her fingers are doing, what her mouth has done, keeps him standing there. Never underestimate the power of a blow job, she thinks, and doesn’t let herself dwell. She takes him briefly in her mouth again, sucking until he starts to shake.

  She stops. Truax lets out a muttered curse. Stella smiles and strokes him, judging how close he is by the look on his face.

  “You want me to keep going.” It’s not a question. “You want me to suck this lovely cock until you come.”

  “Please,” he says. “Oh, fuck. Yes. Please.”

  He could be lying about it being five years since a woman sucked his dick. He could be lying about not fucking around too. And really, it doesn’t matter because nothing about any of this is all the way honest, not her hair or clothes or the way she paints her lips.

  But the way his prick throbs against her tongue—that is honest. The weight of his balls in her palm, that’s honest too. And so is Stella’s desire to make this man explode for her.

  “Lie down,” she says.

  He hesitates. She lets go of his cock, and it rises proudly to tap his belly. Stella unequivocally loves cocks, but there’s no denying Captain Truax’s is particularly lovely, and frankly, she adores that thick hardness she gave him with her touch. She loves how he shakes as he lies back, how his poor, fellatio-deprived prick pulses under the sweep of her tongue from the head to the base just before she settles herself between his legs.

  “Shhh,” she tells him when he starts to speak. “Just enjoy it.”

  “Do you want me to—”

  “Shh,” Stella repeats. “Not now.”

  She takes her time. She worships and adores his cock. Hands and mouth working together, she sucks and strokes. She wiggles out of her dress and presses him between her breasts until he bucks and cries out hoarsely; then she eases off and watches his cock fuck the air.

  Again and again she brings him to the edge, certain each time she’s going to misjudge and finish him, but either her skills are just that fucking good—which is possible—or he’s just willing to be teased, which might also be true. And the longer she goes, the wetter she gets. The harder her clit. The tighter her nipples.

  Stella fucks him with her mouth and hands, every so often stroking herself, but it’s the pressure of her thighs as she squeezes them together in rhythm that sends her hurtling toward her own finish. It would be easy to forget herself just now, lost in the pleasure, but Stella focuses. Sitting up, rocking her hips and clenching her muscles to keep herself edging toward her orgasm, she strokes his cock a few more firm pumps.

  “I’m...” is all he says this time.

  “Me too,” she tells him, and bends back to take him in her mouth for that last, desperate thrust.

  She comes in slow, rolling ripples that are so different from how it feels when she comes while actively rubbing her clit. The pleasure goes on and on while his cock pumps into her mouth and she swallows again and again. Breathing hard, Stella sits up again, her body still quivering with the force of what turned out to be a surprisingly strong orgasm.

  Truax had been moaning, but is now silent. His softening cock is a reminder of how little Stella likes this part—what she thinks of as “the clash” because of that rock group’s famous song. “Should I Stay or Should I Go?” Stella almost always votes for go, especially on nights like this when she still has a cab ride back to her own hotel and a plane to catch.

  She takes a moment to fall ont