“Don't move,” he said. “You will make the letters all wobbly.”
Curling his finger inside me, he ran the pad over the sweet, aching spot at the top of my tight passage that I knew could make me come. Technically. I technically knew that. I'd never had an orgasm from that before. I wanted to see if he knew how to do it.
“'I have gone out,'” he said suddenly, his voice rich and dark as he rubbed his finger in circles over my g-spot, making my toes curl and my back arch. “'A possessed witch, haunting the black air, braver at night.'”
Something began to build deep in my belly. A heaviness that I had never felt before. It was almost uncomfortable, a dark, lurking experience, waiting to be released, and I couldn't stop it. The circling of his finger inside me was relentless. I quivered and quaked around it, knowing that he could give me things I'd never known.
The charcoal continued down my thigh. “'Dreaming evil,'” he murmured slowly, and I realized he was writing the words on me. I could barely concentrate on his voice. The thunder of blood in my ears was almost too much for me to bear. It was a poem I had never heard before, but it sent the hairs on the back of my neck on end even as my body twisted and thrashed, out of my control. The terrifying feeling in my belly mounted, growing larger and larger. I didn't know how much more I could take.
“Malcolm,” I pleaded, my voice shuddering in my chest. My arms had come down, of their own volition, and crossed over my breasts. I cupped them in my hands, rubbing my palms absently over my nipples as my lower lip found its way between my teeth.
His hand stilled and I cried out, bereft. “No speaking,” he commanded. His dark cherry wood eyes had fixated on the flesh of my inner thigh and the tip of his charcoal stick poised there. I bit down hard on my lip and waited, trembling, for his indulgence. The hum of the plane was all around us, under my back, in my bones. At some point we had broken above the clouds and sunlight poured in through the windows, spilling across the cream and gold and mahogany interior. Warm light touched my shoulder, and I realized that I had finally escaped the cold. I was surprised my skin wasn't incandescent with the fire Malcolm stoked in me.
At last he began to write again, and his finger picked up its magical rhythm. “'I have gone out,” he repeated, his eyes wandering over my nude body, marked and branded as his own, “'a possessed witch, haunting the black air, braver at night. Dreaming evil, I have done my hitch over the plain houses...'” My release began to coil within me again, hard and tight, and I struggled to hold my body still, the way he had asked me to. The charcoal left off suddenly, then alighted on my elbow where it lay against my ribcage as I cupped my breasts in the palms of my hands. “'Light by light,'” he whispered, and another finger slipped inside me, “'lonely thing... twelve-fingered...'” A third inside, and then he picked up the pace, slamming his fingertips into the soft yielding mound inside me, and I tried not to cry with the unbearable delight of it.
He crawled over my body, let the charcoal reach my forehead. “'Out of mind,'” he murmured. Then he dropped the charcoal stick on the carpet by my head and moved his newly freed hand down to my pelvis. There he laid a heavy palm across me and began to work my tight cunt as vigorously as if he were feeling the same mounting pleasure and needed it just as badly as I did. Faster and faster he went, and my body left me behind in the dust. My brain became blank as every muscle within me tightened and coiled around his fingers, a dark wave swelling up inside me, threatening to take me over, wash over me and drag me out to sea.
“Come, Sadie,” he whispered fiercely then. “Come for me.”
I broke.
The black wave of pleasure crashed into me, bowling me over, sweeping me under. I became lost inside it as it filled me up. I shrieked, terrified, transformed, just a blaze of light and heat on the floor of his private jet. The staff may have heard me. I couldn't say. Everything melted away and I writhed and thrashed, my body jumping and leaping on the carpet as though I had been struck by lightning.
It felt as though I had.
The sensation drew out, longer and longer as he pounded his fingers inside me, holding me down by my hips until at last I began to cry from the intensity, the incredible, wonderful, mind-altering force of it.
At last he stopped plumbing me, and I sank down to the carpet, my body slick with sweat. I gasped staring at the ceiling of the plane while the hum of the engines filled my head.
Malcolm let his fingers slip from my tight passage and moved up, covering my body with his own. Hiking my legs around his waist, he cradled me against him as I panted, exhausted and fulfilled. His lips brushed over my ear.