Wasted Love with You (Wasted Love 1)

“My apologies for not kissing you here first, like I promised,” he says.

What?

He doesn’t pause to elaborate. He buries his head against my pussy, rendering me absolutely useless with every flick of his tongue, with every alternating push and pull of his skilled fingers.

His rhythm is all-consuming, overpowering, and so fucking fast that I can’t hold on for much longer.

“Ahhh, Ryder…” I say his name as he continues to devour me, as he grips my legs tighter and holds me still.

“Can you…” I can barely speak between moans. “Can you… slow down?”

He responds by keeping his intense tempo the same, torturing me with a pleasure I’ve never known and pushing me closer to ecstasy with every perfectly timed kiss.

My pussy is throbbing against his tongue, and I can feel my knees weakening, but he doesn’t stop. He pushes me far over the edge, driving me toward the most intense orgasm I’ve ever experienced in my life.

“Ryder, I’m about to…” My sentence ends the moment he sucks my clit between his lips again, the moment the tips of his fingers hit my most wanted spot at the exact same time.

I scream his name as I’m forced to let go of the ledge and break the only rule he’s set.

Holding me steady, he continues kissing me, keeping me taut until I stop shaking.

“Do I need to worry about you being late or quitting on me again?” he whispers against my inner thigh.

I’m too breathless to answer.

“Autumn?” He blows against my clit. “Do I?”

I shake my head, managing a strained, “No…”

“Good.” He places a few final kisses against my skin and stands to his feet.

He looks as if he wants to ask me something else, but he holds back, refastening my dress and smoothing my hair instead.

Pulling a set of keys from his pocket, he unlocks the handcuff from my left wrist. Then he grabs my duffle bag.

“We need to go now.” He presses his hand against the small of my back and leads me off the plane.

When we’re halfway down the jet bridge, he pushes on a “Personnel Only” door, revealing a flight of metal steps that lead to the tarmac.

“Walk slow,” he commands.

I oblige, and by the time my feet touch the ground, a black town car is pulling in front of us.

The driver jumps out to open the back door, and I immediately collapse onto the leather.

Ryder takes a seat on the other side, placing the briefcase between us.

Still on a high from my orgasm, I stare out the window as we coast past all the commercial airliners.

What the hell just happened to me…

Several minutes later, the car parks in front of a massive white jet.

“Good evening, Miss Jane.” A suit, the same one I saw weeks ago at Crafts & Notes, opens my door.

“Good evening.”

“We have fifteen minutes.” Ryder steps beside me, addressing the suit. “Make sure we’re all set.”

“Yes, sir.”

As if he can sense that I’m still lost in thought, Ryder guides me up the brightly lit steps.

Inside, six plush leather chairs guard the windows; the letter “R” is engraved on every headrest. A frosted glass door stands near the back, flanked by a wraparound sofa and a liquor bar.

“Give me one second, please.” Ryder disappears into a side room while the flight attendant steps in front of me.

“I’m Anna,” she says, shaking my hand. “I’m honored to be at your beck and call with whatever you need. Would you like something to drink before takeoff?”

“I’m fine, thank you.”

She nods and picks up a blanket, draping it around my shoulders. Then, as if she doesn’t believe the words I’ve said, she hands me a steaming cup of tea.

“This way.” Ryder returns, slipping his arm around my waist. He walks me to the back and pushes the frosted glass door open.

“It’s a seven-and-a-half-hour flight to Miami, and then two and a half from there to New York.” He hits the lights, revealing a beautiful grey bedroom. “After that, you’ll return home to me. I’ll call you with further instructions at each landing.”

“Wait… You’re not coming with me?”

“No.” His voice is deadpan. “I can’t.”

“Are you banned from those cities?”

“Feels that way at times.” There’s a hint of pain in his irises. “It’s a long story.”

Not pushing it, I nod and walk over to the bed.

“When are you planning to give me an official employment contract?” I ask.

“Never,” he says. “Do I seem like the type of man who believes in paper trails?”

“You could make me an exception.”

He smiles and sets my duffle bag on the dresser. “There’s a shower to your left, and a private sofa and bookshelf behind the door on your right.”

“Noted. Thank you.”

“Have a safe flight.” He turns around to leave, but then he looks over his shoulder. “Oh, and Autumn?”

“Yes?”

“About not seeing ‘anything’ when you opened my briefcase without permission…”