The Boarding Call
THE LAST FLIGHT OUT – PART IV
In the last installment…
Not With Haste
The dessert was something I couldn’t pronounce—delicate layers stacked with a precision that made me hesitate before stabbing my fork into it. Ian didn’t. He took one bite and groaned loud enough that the couple two tables over glanced our way.
R. Adrian Thorne
We shifted without even thinking—a tangle of limbs and ragged breaths until I was on my side, Ian pressed tight behind me, chest slick against my back.
He slid back in like he’d never left, and fuck—the angle was different, deeper somehow, sharper. It knocked a sound out of me I didn’t even recognize.
His arm hooked under mine, pulling me flush against him, his other hand reaching down—finding me, wrapping around me. Hot, tight grip.
I jerked hard in his palm, hips caught between his thrusts and his hand, no escape from the pressure building on both fronts.
