Page 45 of Say You Hate Me


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I gasp. “Be professional,” I say quickly, panic filling me that Luca is listening in on our conversation.

“You think Luca can hear us? Let me lift one of the headphones off of your ear.”

He unbuckles himself and reaches over, lifting my left headphone. The noise is undoubtably loud—there’s no way anyonecan hearanythingin this ruckus. He places it back on my ear, but he doesn’t move.

I stop breathing as he trails a hand up my thigh.

“See? It’s just you and me up here.” He runs a finger even higher, and I audibly moan. “Wow. You’re really wound up, Natalia.”

“Stop,” I breathe, my clit already aching. I won’t admit to him how much this is affecting me—how much I want him to keep touching me.

How much Ineedit.

“I’ll stop if you really want me to stop,” he says, his breath hot on my face. I don’t take my eyes off the plane or the open air before us. We dip slightly, and he reaches over, adjusting the throttle. “Easy,” he murmurs, leveling us.

“It’s hard to concentrate,” I quip, my pulse pounding in my throat.

“I barely touched you,” he articulates, and when I sneak a look at him, he’s watching me with a bemused expression.

“Just—not while I’m flying the plane,” I remark, pulling my lower lip between my teeth.

He moves closer, and I suck in a breath, attempting to ignore him so I don’t kill us all.

“You don’t think you could fly this plane and come at the same time?”

I jerk in surprise, and the plane veers slightly. I wait for Anderson to help me, but he laughs, and once the plane stops rocking, he places his palm between my legs, rubbing the bundle of nerves against the soft fabric of my pants with his thumb.

“Jesus. I can tell you’re already wet,” he murmurs, working his thumb quicker.

I pant and spread my legs slightly, my chest and cheeks flushing with heat.

“Wider,” he commands, and I part my legs farther. “Don’t take your eyes off of the plane. Keep an eye on the instruments.”

“O-okay,” I stutter, moaning as his thumb roughly flicks my clit again.

I barely have time to register what’s happening. But I know I need more of it. His thumb swirls around my nub, and his other fingers slide overtop my slit, causing the friction of my pants to heat even further.

“Oh my god, Anderson,” I whimper, biting my lip.

“You’re so fucking wet, Natalia. Your pants are soaked.”

I thrust into him as the plane rocks slightly with our movements.

Please god, don’t let Luca wake up.

I grip the handle tightly with both hands, my knuckles white. Every instinct inside me is telling me to slide down and throw my head back, but since I’m steering the plane, I can’t. I grip the handle harder.

“Do you know what you do to me? A week ago, I hated you,” he hisses, his motions frantic. The heat builds in my core. “Now, you’re all I can think about.” He doesn’t lean over to kiss me—he stays where he is, working his hand against me. When I look up, there are beads of sweat on his forehead, and he’s watching me with fervent concentration, like he’s trying to commit this to memory. I’ve never seen such a look on his face—on anyone’s face.

Holy fuck.

“I hated you, too,” I rasp, groaning. I’m fucking his hand now—there’s no other way to put it. His thumb is hitting me at just the right spot, and with every thrust, it sends a smattering of electricity through my body, making my toes curl.

“And now?” he asks, his voice ripe with hunger. I moan loudly—the subtleness of him rubbing me outside of my pants causes me to tip over the edge before I realize I am. “Say it,” he growls, working his hand faster and faster. “Say you hate me.”

“Holy fucking shit,” I bleat as the orgasm cleaves through me. I thrust as hard as I can without causing the plane to move, which in turn takes away some of the friction I crave… causing me to orgasm for what feels like minutes. I shudder as Anderson laughs, removing his hand and taking control of the plane handle.

“Good job, Natalia. You flew a plane and came all at once. I think that deserves a medal.”