The chopper zooms through the air toward the open ocean. I close my eyes and listen to the beautiful sound of Daimon’s voice as he speaks to Julien. A few moments later, someone shakes my arm and he’s kneeling before me again holding the parachute vest I’m supposed to strap on for the next phase of the plan.
We strap on our vests and safety goggles, then grab hold of the bar above the helicopter exit door. The wind is blasting me in the face so hard, I can’t feel my lips anymore. Daimon turns to me and I wouldn’t be able to hear him if he spoke, but he doesn’t have to speak. I know what that look in his eyes is saying.
He leans over and we exchange a quick, but nonetheless passionate kiss before we let go.
I immediately yank down hard on the ripcord and a small black parachute deploys above me. The chute slows my descent into the water by a great deal. Once I hit the seawater, my life vest automatically inflates and the chill of the Ligurian Sea seeps into my skin. The water is fifty-eight degrees right now; significantly lower than my body temperature. And it’s only going to plummet overnight until the sun comes up in about five hours. If I lose Daimon, or if one of us is not rescued, we could be dead by morning.
I struggle a bit to detach the cover of the vest attached to the chute, but I finally manage to get it off and swim away so I don’t get tangled in it. I try not to panic when I don’t see Daimon in the black water, but it only takes a moment before I hear him calling my name. I turn around and my heart leaps when I see him swimming toward me.
“Daimon!” I call, struggling a bit to swim fast with this bulky life vest.
Before we even reach each other, I hear the whine of the speedboat engine approaching. Daimon takes my face in his hands and kisses me hard. The kiss is salty, but his mouth is warm and comforting in this cold sea.
A small wave of water is dumped on our heads as the speedboat stops next to us. A man in a black wetsuit helps us board the boat, then another man drives away into the night.
“They followed the helicopter,” says the man in the wetsuit.
“And Julien?” Daimon asks while helping me out of my life vest.
“Julien and Mark are prepared to deal with the fallout.”
I don’t know what this means, but it seems to satisfy Daimon. He tosses his life vest onto the floor of the speedboat and pulls me into his lap so he can rub my arms and keep me warm. We reach the shore in Nice thirty minutes later, where Victor is waiting for us with a change of clothing, disguises, and identification documents.
Seventy-five minutes later, we board a train to Vienna and I can finally breathe. We settle into our sleeper cabin for the six-hour train ride. Daimon locks the door behind him, then we both take in the size and smell of the tiny space. Each of the bunk beds alone isn’t big enough for two adults, but that doesn’t stop Daimon from insisting we sleep together on the bottom bunk.
Without proper sleep attire, we both decide we’d rather sleep nude. He hangs his gun holster from the bunk above us, so it’s within arm’s reach should he need it. Then he presses his back up against the rear wall and I press my back against his chest.
His hand immediately slides forward, landing on my abdomen as he presses his lips to my ear and whispers. “This is quite intimate.” His hand skims over my ribs and up to my breast. “Would you like to have sex on a moving train?”
I arch my back a little, pressing my ass against his growing erection. “Do you think our neighbors will hear us?”
He pinches my nipple and the throbbing between my legs becomes painful. “Oh, yes.”
“Then, yes. I definitely want to have sex on a moving train.”
I twist my head around and he kisses me hungrily as his hand slides down my belly, over the scar on my side, then between my legs. I lift my top leg and lean back a little to drape it over his leg as he enters me.
I cry out in pain and he stops moving. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes. Don’t stop.”
His index and ring finger spread my flesh as his middle finger gently stimulates my clit. He does this for a few minutes without moving until he can feel me contracting around him. Then he slowly moves in and out of me.
“Oh, God. That feels so good.”
We’ve had lots of oral sex over the last couple of weeks while I was healing, but this is the first time he’s been inside me since our last night together in L.A. It feels more exquisite than I anticipated, his thick cock stretching my walls, moving in just a bit farther with each heavenly stroke.
“We are equals everywhere, except here,” he growls in my ear. “But now that you’re ready… I’m going to teach you how to receive me.”
I whimper as he digs deeper into me. His finger continues to caress my clit and I’m getting so aroused, I have to keep myself from screaming and squirming out of his grasp.
“What’s my first lesson going to entail?” I murmur, grinding my ass into him to draw him in even deeper until he hits that spot deep inside me that throws me over the edge.
He strokes my clit and thrusts harder and deeper into me until I come. I yank his hand out from between my legs and he chuckles as he continues to dip in and out of me.
“Your first lesson will start right now,” he murmurs in my ear, then he kisses my neck as his hand massages my breast. “Lesson number one: One orgasm is never enough.”
I laugh as he pulls his cock out of me and turns me onto my back. He climbs on top of me, settling himself between my legs as he slides into me again. His hips move in a decadent slow, rolling motion, his pelvis rubbing against my clit and sending pleasurable shockwaves coursing through me.
God, this man knows what he’s doing.
After a few minutes of this sweet torture, he pulls out of me again and moves down until his face is between my legs. He hooks his arms around my thighs and, through the dim lighting in the cabin, I can just barely glimpse his smile as he dives into me.
Suffice it to say that, after two hours in that sweaty cabin, I’ve learned lesson number one. And I’m not at all surprised when he admits that this is the only lesson I need to learn.
Chapter Ten Alex
The private jet lands in Los Angeles at four in the afternoon. I feel well-rested from the nap on the plane, but I’m not sure that any amount of rest or planning could prepare me for what we’re about to do.
A driver with a sign that reads “DURANT FAMILY” waits for us near baggage claim. Family. Daimon and I are now being referred to as a family. Sure, Durant is not our real surname, but the word family still rings true. Because family is not always the people with whom you share DNA. Sometimes, family is the person who fights the hardest for your happiness.
We don’t have any bags to claim, so we head straight for the car. Once we’re settled in the backseat, Daimon laces his fingers through mine and plants a tender kiss on the back of my hand. He holds my palm against his cheek for a moment, lost in thought, then he turns to me, his gaze penetrating me.
“No matter what happens right now, I want you to know that you are loved and you always have been.”
I smile, though it’s a bit forced because I know he’s just as nervous as I am. And I don’t like seeing Daimon nervous.
“I’m not trying to placate you,” he continues. “I loved you before I knew you. I know this because my heart recognized you from the first moment I saw you six months ago.”
He brushes my new black hair behind my ear and the sensation of his fingertips on my skin gives me chills. He lightly sweeps the back of his fingers over my left cheek where the makeup is hiding my discoloration.
I reach up to grab his hand, then I hold his palm against my face. “Thank you for turning on the lights and showing me what I could not see.”
Daimon