Free Face of Danger by Roxanne St. Claire

painful plank of wood that strained his pants and his composure.
    She mouthed the words of the song, licking her lips and slipping a finger into her cleavage. Sliding it over her nipple, arousing the peak.
    His jaw hurt from how much he wanted to close his mouth over that lace, tear it off with his teeth—and suck. He dragged his attention to her face, hidden in shadow enough to make him question his certainty that this was Vivi and not some pole-dancing, moviemaking, strip-teasing—
    She rubbed both breasts and glided her hands down her belly, slipping one into her panties, then out again, her body jumping slightly as they hit turbulence.
    Vivi
. Like he’d never imagined her before. And he’d done some pretty thorough imagining of her.
    Blood surged and slammed and his balls tightened up to needy, swollen walnuts. A drop of semen darkened his khakis. Jesus Christ, she was going to make him come.
    “You better…” he rasped. “Not…”
    “Better not forget the best part?” she coaxed. “Of course not. Who else could do this but me?” She lifted one booted leg and planted her foot on the armrest. The tattoo, a perfect replica of a Ferrari logo, was inches from his mouth. It looked real. It looked permanent. It looked edible.
    Would Vivi get that tattoo just to play a part?
    He didn’t know. He didn’t know anything anymore. Not why he was here, not her name, not his own. He just knew—
    She closed her teeth over the zipper of the boots, dragging it a few inches. The move put her crotch against his, and, holy hell, she was wet.
    That was all it took.
    His dick jerked, needing to rub, needing to roll against her, needing to be deep inside that wet, white lace and shoot the wad that was ready to burst. He gripped the armrests so hard he could feel the skeleton of the seat under the leather pad. If he let go, he’d touch her. He
had
to touch her.
    She finished the boot zipper with her fingers, stretching her leg to kick it off, exactly as she had in the movie. It was burned in his memory. He’d shot a few loads to that image in his life, and was about to again.
    “Please,” he whispered. “I… can’t… control…”
    Her eyes flashed with victory. “Never thought I’d hear you say that.”
    Vivi
. Only Vivi would say that to him. At the confirmation that this woman was no stranger, but Vivi, he just got harder.
    She repeated the whole boot-teeth-kick move on the other leg. There was only one move left in this famous dance.
    Would she?
    She flattened her palms on his chest, no doubt feeling the insane hammer of his heart. She drew her hands down, over his stomach, lingering on muscles with an appreciative moan.
    “No hands,” he reminded her. If she touched his dick, even just got within a hair’s breath of it, he’d implode.
    “No hands for you. Hands for me are fine.” She unbuttoned his pants. Unzipped his fly. Spread his boxers and out he came, as massive and hard as he could ever remember, a swollen, throbbing, desperate dick that owned him right now. “But tongue is even better.”
    He almost broke the armrest, his breath jagged and furious now. Sweat trickled down one temple, rolled down his back, soaked his balls.
    She zeroed in on his cock, sliding her body lower, her thighs dragging over his, her breasts scorching his chest, her mouth inches from his jutting hard-on. He couldn’t stand it anymore. He seized the hat and pulled it off, taking some hairs with it as she let out a small cry of dismay.
    She looked up at him, the netting barrier gone, her face completely familiar, and shockingly beautiful.
    Vivi.
    Instantly she put her face back down, hiding herself.
    The song reached a crescendo. The plane reached cruising altitude. And she reached his shiny wet tip and—“Oh, my God, Viv—”
    Licked.
    The lights went out in his head.

CHAPTER 4
    V ivi knew she’d gone too far. She shouldn’t make him come.
    The bone-deep scary thing was, she couldn’t stop. In fact, when she closed her