Fighting for Flight JB Salsbury (room on the broom read aloud .TXT) 📖

Only scorching fire.

We watch our reflection and the pleasure builds. Our eyes lock in intimacy, liberating us of our need for words.

His gaze drops to my breasts, the driving power making them bounce. He bends forward, taking one into his mouth, and flicking the tip with his tongue. I grind into him harder, desperate for more contact.

A current builds, starting loose in my torso and condensing in my stomach. My lips part to accommodate my labored breath.

He pulls back, locks eyes with mine, and bites his lip. My hands sift through his hair and to pull his mouth to mine. A groan rumbles in his chest. His fingers dig into my bottom, the pinch against the sensitive flesh pushing me higher.

And like a lightning strike, I’m hit. My insides, once liquid, crystalize and shatter in pulses of euphoria. I throw my head back and moan. I fight to stay upright as my body enjoys the blissful indulgence.

He collapses on top of me before I feel his teeth sink into my shoulder. I tilt my head, and he groans against my skin, his body jolting from the power of his release.

My arms shake with the reverberations of my orgasm or from the strain of holding up our weight. He must sense my struggle and lifts his body to pull me to his chest.

Jonah holds me close, running his fingers through my hair while I come down and catch my breath. He places soft kisses on my face before we’re drawn to our reflection.

He smiles. “That was hot.”

I blush and agree. “Blazing.”

“I’m buying you a pair of those shoes in every color they make.”

“They’re 500 dollars.”

“Make that two pair in every color.”

His expression is serious, and I burst into laughter. All of the stress and pressure I’d been feeling from earlier dissolve to a distant memory.

With a small effort, Jonah lifts me from the counter and places me on my wobbly legs. I look down and notice his pants are still around his ankles. He kicks them off and kneels in front of me. One by one, he slips off my shoes so that we’re both standing naked.

He pulls me into his arms. “You doing better?”

“Yeah.” I chuckle, remembering the state Jonah found me in earlier. “Guess I just needed the release.”

His body shakes with silent laughter. What is it with his sense of humor? I pull back enough to show him my confusion.

“Guess you got your release . . . twice.”

“Jonah!” I slap his arm and my face flames.

“Ow!” His humor fades and something serious works behind his eyes. “I Hhate seeing you like that.”

“It’s okay—”

“No. It’s not. I can’t wait for this shit to be over. For you to be free of . . .”

I rest my cheek against his chest and sigh. “Me too.”

He reaches over and flips on the shower. The room fills with steam. “Come on. I’ll get you all cleaned up. We have a big day tomorrow.”

“Big day?”

His eyebrows hit his hairline.

My hand covers my mouth as realization dawns.

Tomorrow I meet his mom.

Twenty-six

Jonah

“I think I might puke.” Raven rubs her stomach, a grimace etched into her gorgeous face. She’s made herself sick worrying about meeting my mom. I couldn’t even get her to eat breakfast.

I wonder if any of her nerves this morning are leftover from her breakdown last night. I’d never seen a person go from rat-shit mad to completely unglued. When I overheard her laughing in the bathroom, I realized she’d reached her breaking point. I knew I needed to bring her back—to pull her from her hysterics and place her gently back into her skin.

Her skin.

My dick twitches at the memory of her slowly sliding off that dress, each sliver of delicate flesh, beckoning for my touch—the way her body responded immediately to the slightest brush of my fingers, opening to my unspoken request. Erotic flashes of her legs wrapped around my body flood my mind. Heat radiates from the red marks on my back left by her shoes. Watching the reflection of our bodies tangled together is forever branded into my memory.

A groan bubbles up from my throat, and Raven turns her attention toward me with narrowed eyes, throwing me from my sexy daydream. Her eyes get big at the sound of a mumbled voice over the airport’s loudspeaker.

“What’d he say? Was that it? Did they just announce her flight? I think that’s her flight,” she says, her eyes dart around the baggage claim carousel where we’ve been waiting for the last fifteen minutes.

Raven bounces on her toes like a kid who has to pee. My lips pull up. “Maybe you shouldn’t have had that fourth cup of coffee this morning.”

“She’s not going to like me. She probably wants you with some sweet, homey girl who, you know, bakes or loves scrapbooking, not a car mechanic who can’t even microwave popcorn.” She looks around like she’s mapping out an escape.

“You kick ass with a microwave, baby. Don’t sell yourself short.”

She glares at me, but her mouth ticks with the shadow of a smile.

“Baby, she’s going to love you. Trust me. Now stop jumping around like a fucking pogo-stick and come here.”

I throw my arm over her shoulder and she leans into me. Her muscles relax as my fingers trace along her skin.

“Excuse me, ‘Assassin’?”

A tall, awkward boy in the throes of puberty approaches us.

“Yeah.”

He shuffles his feet and avoids my eyes. He’s taller than Raven, but lanky. His messy brown hair hangs over his black-rimmed glasses. Printed in bold letters, his bright yellow shirt reads Stephen King is my Homeboy. I stifle a laugh.

“I thought it was you.” He flips a pen in his hand. “I’m a big fan. I’ve seen all your fights.” His voice cracks. “That take down against ‘Pit Bull’ Perez in oh-nine was the best I’d ever seen. I know you’re going to beat Del Toro tomorrow.

Raven gasps, and her grip tightens on the back of my shirt.

“I can’t wait to see the