Page 7 of Shattered Veil

My thighs tense, my core tightens, and my nipples stiffen, the tender buds scraping against my lace bra. Fire simmers in my veins, igniting an insatiable longing I’m desperate to satisfy.

Unable to form words, I only shake my head, wondering how such an undeniable attraction can blossom so fast and powerful out of nowhere.

“Answer me, butterfly.”

I shake my head.

“Whynot?”

Shit... Can I keep going? Let this lead to a one-night stand that I really needandmix it with a hooker fantasy?

If my poor father only knew what he set me up for.

But I’m twenty-seven, and I love sex. Or I did before Wesley Brennan. It’s been six months since he hurt me for the last time, and I’m finally beginning to feel like myself again.

This sexy stranger is the gasoline I need to get my flame roaring.

“He...didn’t pay me enough.”

“JesusfuckingChrist. How much...” Balor leans in.

“If you own a jet, I’m sure you can afford it.”

“We can make use of that five-hour layover in Los Angeles,” he utters. “In bed.”

“Can you last five hours, sir?” I whisper.

“I can last. How do you feel about getting back on this plane limping and sore after what I’ll do to you for five hours, butterfly?”

CHAPTER THREE

Ella

I’m still shaking from his response and unable to form a comeback.

“Now sit there like a good girl with your legs crossed, so I can get some work done,” Balor growls playfully.

“You realize that’s another ten hours?” I yawn, already sleepy from the wine and the meal served shortly after take-off.

We’re somewhere over the Pacific Ocean, in between time zones, but it’s past midnight in Sydney.

“Right,” Balor acknowledges. “I’ll get some sleep eventually.”

“I wouldn’t leave that up for chance. You don’t want to be tired when we land, especially if you want your money’s worth.”

He guffaws sharply. “Don’t worry your pretty head. I’ll have my money’s worth.”

“Okay, then, I’ll just tire myself out.”

“By making yourself come?” His brazen dirty talk spoken so effortlessly spikes adrenaline in my veins.

The captain lowered the cabin lights fifteen minutes ago. The seats are arranged on a diagonal, and to my left is a storage closet. It’s as if the airline’s interior designers knew what happens on these mega-long, transcontinental flights.

“I admit, when I’m tossing and turning, a good O helps me sleep.”

“Show me.”

“Show you?”