Page 61 of Sunrise Arrows

Taking the glass from him, I blindly hand it behind me to Briar and guide his hands into my loose hair. His fingers instantly tangle into the waves—one hand holding on like I’m his lifeline and the other combing through the length. With him pacified, I cup my hands on either side of his face like blinders on a horse and direct him to look down at me and I repeat, “Hey, Superman.”

Archer’s breath is ragged when he sucks it in and it comes out in a stuttered exhale. He takes another breath—eyes locked on mine and hands moving through my hair to pull out the adrenaline that’s riding him so hard—this one a little more steady. On his third, he murmurs, “Hey, Shortcake.”

Pulling him down to me, I whisper against his whiskey coated lips, “There you are, baby.” With the plane blocked from his view, I slip my hands into the front pocket of his jeans and turn us so I can start walking backward. “Eyes on me, Superman,” I encourage.

Behind him, John follows us, smirking and shaking his head as I lead Archer into the back of the cabin. The area is like a small bedroom and has the benefit of being able to shut out the rest of the cabin. There’s two chairs that sit angled to one another with a table between them, a bed just big enough for two people who enjoy snuggling close, a slightly larger television than the small individual ones in the main cabin, and just beyond, a functional, albeit tiny, closet and a full bathroom where I can freshen up before stepping off into wherever my latest destination is.

Once inside, John says, “Stay buckled until we level out, Miss Jacobs,” closing us into the private space.

Ignoring my bodyguard, I get Archer into one of the club chairs and before he can buckle himself in, I sit down in his lap, facing him with a knee on either side of his thighs.

“Tinsley.”

“Archer.”

“Shouldn’t—” I cut him off by colliding our mouths together, my tongue immediately seeking his out.

When his hands come around to grasp my ass and move me over his growing erection, I trail my lips off to his stubbled jaw and murmur, “Be reckless with me, Superman,” moaning when my clit lines up with him through my shorts and his jeans.

“We shouldn’t. Most plane crashes happen during takeoff and?—”

“We definitely should,” I entice, rolling my hips over him and running my tongue up the column of his throat, leaving behind a sucking kiss at his jaw. “I’ve had this jet for seven years, and the only thing to christen that bed and these seats has been my own fingers in my pussy.

“Make me soak the sheets, Archer. Fill the cabin with the smell of sex. Paint me with your cum and then wash it off of me in the shower.”

He swears under his breath, hips thrusting up against mine, and his head falling back. His grip on my ass tightens when I try to move over him again, and his breathing is sharp and ragged as if he’s seeking control of himself. I’m sure I’ve lost him to the anxiety of flying. But then Will’s voice comes on over the intercom, telling us to prepare for takeoff.

“If we do this, we do it my way,” Archer finally says. “Do you understand, Tinsley? You listen to me and doexactlyas I tell you. And if I think it’s no longer safe?—”

“I won’t object,” I promise.

My smile slips off into a parted gasp when his hand grabs my throat. He adjusts in the seat, keeping my eyes on his as he stares unblinkingly at me. “My way, or not at all. I won’t take any chances with you. Nod if you understand.”

I do as I’m told, my thighs clenching around his as my greedy pussy ruins my panties.

“Good; now take off your shorts and turn around,” he orders, letting me go.

I’m quick to shuck the denim off my thighs, playing with the lace waistband of my thong, teeth biting my lip as I silently ask if I should keep going.

He studies me for a moment before deciding. “Take it all off, baby,” he commands, spreading his legs out in the seat and tugging his shirt off with an arm bent behind his head.

Naked, I sit in his lap with my legs between his and my back to his chest. Not happy with the position, Archer hooks his hands behind my knees and lifts my thighs up. He spreads me open, draping each one over his own and locks me into place by opening his own legs even wider.

The plane starts to taxi and he stretches the lap belt over the both of us. He wraps the excess around his hand and yanks on the strap to tighten it until it digs into my skin.

His lips touch my shoulder, fingers sweeping my hair to the other side, and he asks, “Are you comfortable, baby?”

“Yes.”

“It’s not too tight?”

I shake my head and he pulls on the belt a little more. “Words, Tinsley. Give me your words.”

“It feels good.”

“Good. Now let me use this pretty pussy to distract myself.”

“I’m all yours,” I whimper, feeling how wet I’ve become.

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