King of Masters by Brynn Ford

CHAPTER 14

Stella

MY FINGERS CURL around the armrests and my lips curve into a smile as I revel in the luxury of Murphy’s private aircraft. I knew he and his family had money, but I couldn’t have imagined this kind of money. He could buy happiness. He could buy anything he wants.

And he picked me to spend his time with.

I let my head fall back against the headrest, shutting my eyes and breathing deeply as I let myself enjoy the fluttering flaps of butterfly wings in my stomach. As the plane levels out and I start to feel a little more settled, I open my eyes and lift my head to find him watching me.

He sits across from me, his ivory leather seat facing mine. He looks relaxed, resting his chin on his hand and his elbow down on the armrest. When our gaze meets, he grins, those damn wrinkles around his eyes nearly killing me as he sits up straight, scrubbing his hand across his beard.

“You’re stunning,” he says, his tongue sneaking out to lick his lips. “I’m lucky I found you.”

My stomach flips. I’m aching to touch him, hold him, kiss him. It’s been a complete whirlwind since he arrived at my apartment this morning—a tense phone conversation with Cora, quick packing, and straight off to the private landing strip that Murphy’s family owns.

The whole thing feels like a goddamn fairytale. Though I know I shouldn’t be getting off on this whole rom-com scenario—the sexy, wealthy Irishman sweeping his random New York City meet-cute girl off her feet—but I’m totally horny for it.

“Come on over here, sit on my lap.”

My seatbelt is unbuckled before he finishes his sentence. I leap across the small space between us and eagerly climb onto his lap. There’s plenty of room for me to straddle him in the comfortably wide seat, and I lower my ass to sit on his thighs. I grab his cheeks and kiss him hard and fast as his large hands splay across my back. His rings are hard, digging into my flesh as he pulls me in close. He sinks his tongue inside my mouth, kissing me so deeply, I can hardly even reciprocate.

He wants this kiss and he’s taking it.

He can have it.

He can take whatever he fucking wants from me.

I feel like a teenager with the way we want each other. His hands don’t stop moving and his tongue doesn’t stop tasting me until our heavy breaths are as loud as the aircraft engines rumbling all around us. He doesn’t stop until I’m rocking my hips, grinding my weight down heavier on his lap, intoxicated by the feel of him against me.

He breaks from our kiss and trails his lips along my jaw, his breath warm and his lips soft as he moves them down my neck. “Good for both of us you wore this hot little skirt.”

He grabs the bottom hem of my black-and-white striped mini-skirt and flips it up over my hips, giving me a little more wiggle room to spread my legs wider and sink heavier on his lap.

I smile as I lick my lips and my eyes flutter shut. “You’re never gonna see me in pants again, stranger. Easy access from here on out.”

He groans as his mouth moves over the hollow of my throat—I can feel the vibration of it buzzing over my skin. “I like your way of thinking.”

My hands roam down his chest as he nips at my collarbone. I drop my voice to a whisper. “Can I fuck you here? Is someone going to walk in on us?”

He lifts his head, draining the last bits of concern and rational thought from my mind with the way his eyebrows dip to frame his heated stare. My fingers are already between us, working his belt buckle before he speaks. “If you don’t fuck me, then I’ll fuck you.”

I cock an eyebrow at him. “Is that a threat?”

“It’s a fucking promise.”

There’s a beat that passes between us before we both devolve into frantic creatures, both of our hands between us, fighting to get his pants undone and free his thickening cock. I rise onto my knees and he reaches between my legs, his fingers brushing across my sex, slipping beneath the fabric of my underwear, and tugging it to the side.

I shift forward, prepared to impale myself on him before I’m even fully ready because I need him so desperately. But he stops me with his touch. His fingers swirl, teasing me as he watches with hungry eyes.

“Get wet for me.”

He licks me with a single stroke of his thick tongue from the hollow spot of my throat all the way up to my chin, and it makes me shudder. His fingers still move, caressing the sensitive flesh between my legs. I gasp when he gently presses them inside me.

I let my head fall back and enjoy the way he touches me with experienced hands. I’m briefly reminded of how much older he is than me…older and more experienced sexually, but also more powerfully knowledgeable as a white man in a privileged world.

Guard your heart with this one.

Cora’s words echo inside my head, but it’s too late for that. I’m in too deep and this feels too damn good.

As Murphy draws slickness from my core, I meet his eyes, giving back the intensity he feeds me. His breath hitches as he hooks two fingers inside me and my lips part to puff out a breath.

He grins as reason melts away and drips down my insides, washing away my sanity and rushing liquid straight to my core. “That’s my good girl,” he says as I soak his fingers.

I shift my position, not only ready, but entirely needy for him. I lower my body and take his cock inside me, slowly and deeply. We breathe together through every inch until he’s sunk in completely.

“God, that feels so good…”

His hands rub over my back as I start to gently rock forward and back. His touch is so soft that it makes my chest tighten with a swell of emotion. Our eyes are still locked, our bodies are molded together as one, and all I feel is him.

Fuck yes. I’m ignoring my rationality with him—I have been since the moment I met him. But I’m obsessed with him, intoxicated by him, consumed by him, body and soul. He’s taken hold of me in such a significant way that I know I’ll never recover from him.

I’ll never recover from this.

“I’m falling for you,” I say softly.

I didn’t mean to say it, but I know the words are true. I’ve been falling for this privileged prick since the day I met him.

“I know,” he replies and the ache of those two words—of simple acknowledgment and nothing more—sinks inside my gut. But then he kisses me, mouths closed, with absolute sincerity. He lets our lips linger before he breaks away and says, “I’ve already fallen for you, Stella.”

His words strike like a lightning burst from my heart, lighting me on fire from the inside out. It takes my breath away, but air isn’t what I need. I need his touch. I need to feel him move within me, faster, harder, deeper. As if he knows what I need, he rises abruptly from the seat, lifting me with him and taking me down to the floor, laying me sideways between our seats.

As I settle onto my back, he pulls out, tears my twisted panties down my legs, tosses them away, and slams back inside me. I wrap my legs around him, and he comes down on top of me, smothering me in heat and kissing me breathless as his hips work to pump his thick cock.

I moan against his lips as he roughly thrusts. In moments, we’re both so breathless that our panting breaks the kiss. He stays close, his cheek pressed to mine as he moves inside me, through me, all around me.

“Come for me, Stella. I want to feel it. Give it to me. Promise you’ll never give it to anyone else.”

His words tug deep inside me, dragging pleasure to my center.

Never?

Is that a promise I want to make him?

There’s no room for logic with the way he fills me so completely.

“Never,” I whisper.

“Say it,” he grunts, angling his hips so his cock presses upward, rubbing against that perfect spot inside me. “Promise me.”

“I promise.”

“Promise me your pussy is mine.”

The way he growls and grunts his words is so primal, so erotic, that it makes me say it. My pussy is mine, but this dumb, lust-driven version of me is so wrecked that she makes promises she doesn’t mean just because it feels so fucking hot to belong to him.

“I promise…my pussy is yours.”

That sets him off. He rears back, sitting up on his knees, gripping my hip with one hand as the other lands on my stomach. His fingers spread and his thumb slides down over my dark curls to swirl over my clit.

My hips buck up off the floor as he pounds into me. He fucks me so hard I think I might break…but fuck, it feels so good to let him break me. I lift my hands above my head to push them against the wall behind me, just in time to catch myself before hitting my head.

“Murphy…”

“You’re fucking mine,” he hisses, his jaw tense, his eyes narrowed and focused on me as he thrusts and swirls his thumb.

I can feel how this orgasm is going to wreck me. It keeps building and building, like a bubble expanding through my core, getting bigger and threatening to burst, though it only expands more. “Harder,” I tell him. “Move your thumb faster.”

Our eyes remain locked as he gives me exactly what I ask for, as he inflates that bubble larger than ever before. “Come for me,” he says, his lips parting, his chest expanding as his breaths quicken with his pace. “Come for me, Stella.”

It’s his look that does me in; the way he starts to lose control as I get closer, as he gets closer, as he tenses and fights to hold back his orgasm until I come first. And if that isn’t the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. The bubble bursts, forcing my entire body rigid as my climax tears through me.

“Yes, fuck, that’s a good girl,” his growling words blend into a groan. “That’s a good fucking girl.” He thrusts fast and comes inside me, liquid heating me and claiming me from the inside.

I reach for him as my explosive climax drops from the peak, tumbling down the edge. He bends over me, snaking his arms around me to hug me as he rolls us onto our sides, his cock still sunk all the way inside me. I wiggle my hands up between us to hold his cheeks as I kiss him deeply, slowly, tasting him with my tongue and thanking him without words for making me feel this way—for making me feel so satisfied, so cared for, so wanted.

We hold each other for minutes after the kiss breaks, breathing and coming down from the high together as our hands roam each other. The way he touches me is gentle—such a stark contrast from the way he fucked me.

“I can’t give you my heart if you’re not going to be careful with it,” I say, my voice soft.

He pulls back from our embrace just enough to meet my eyes.

“I told you I was falling, but I can’t hit the ground with you unless I know you’re going to protect my heart. I’ve been hurt so much in the past. I don’t want to fall for you only to be hurt again.”

Something unsettling flickers across his gray-green eyes as he strokes a hand down my hair. “I will take care of you. I’ll appreciate you. I’ll give you everything you need, and I’ll protect your heart from being hurt by any other man.” He sighs and pulls out of me slowly, and the absence of him is profound.

I roll onto my back, gaping at him as he gets to his feet and adjusts his clothes too quickly, buckling back up before holding out his hand to help me from the floor. I let him pull me to my feet.

“The bathroom’s back there.” He jerks his chin toward the back of the cabin. “Go clean yourself up. I think it’s time I told you the truth.”

My heart beats double time and I feel a whoosh of adrenaline flood my veins. “What are you talking about? The truth about what?”

“Go clean up. When you come back, we’ll talk.”

“No. I don’t want to clean up.” I narrow my eyes at him. “I don’t care. Talk now.”

“I’m not going to ask you again.”

His cum is seeping from inside me, threatening to run down my leg, but I couldn’t care less about cleaning up. I need him to talk. Now. The air around us is suddenly stale and stagnant, and goosebumps run up my arms. “You’re right, you’re not going to ask again because I already said no. Tell me. Tell me now.” His hand clamps around my bicep, squeezing just above my elbow. He tugs, trying to pull me after him toward the bathroom, but I plant my feet, refusing to move. “Murphy, I said no!”

“Stella—”

“I. Said. No!” I shake my arm from his grip and stare him down, panting from the anger that’s burning inside my chest.

What’s happening?

Why is he acting like this?

Before I can get answers, his hands come up to grip my shoulders and he pushes me, forcing me to walk backward toward the back of the cabin. He reaches out with one hand to wrench open a small door before shoving me inside the tiny bathroom and following after me. He pulls the door shut behind him and stands in front of it, blocking my exit. I feel breathless as anxiety and adrenaline mix and flood my veins.

“What are you doing?”

He reaches around me to grab toilet paper, then reaches between my legs. My eyebrows shoot up to my forehead in shock at the way he’s so blatantly ignoring me. I take a step back and hit the wall beside the toilet, smacking his hands away.

“Stop it!”

But it’s like he doesn’t hear me at all. He presses against me, stealing my breath as he crowds me against the wall. I feel the pressure of tears behind my eyes. He reaches between my legs again, but I fight him as I smack his hands and shove at his forearms. It’s useless, though. He’s bigger and stronger than me, and I can’t fight him off.

He forces his hand between my legs and I clamp my thighs together, but only manage to trap his hand there. He brings the toilet paper up to my pussy and wipes his cum away. The paper is rough against my sensitive flesh and his hand is forceful.

I hiccup, trying to suck in a sharp breath, but then I start to cry. I shove at his chest, though he doesn’t budge. “Stop it! I said stop!”

He gives me a stern look and yanks his hand free, dropping the paper into the toilet. “I asked you to do something. You didn’t do it, so I did it for you.”

That’s enough to send me into a raging fury of tears that flow freely as I reach out and slap him across the cheek. “How fucking dare you?”

His head turns to the side and he slowly brings his fingers to touch his cheek where I hit him, but I’m not done yet. I backhand him, hitting his other cheek with my knuckles. Then I put my hands on his chest and shove. I can’t move him, but I keep shoving. I hit him, punch him, push him.

When he’s had enough, he snatches my wrists in both of his hands, lifts them above my head, and slams them to the wall behind me as he comes in close, pinning me in place with his weight against my body.

“What are you doing?” I cry. “We were just making love…” A sob breaks from my chest and I’ve never heard my own voice sound this sad, this broken.

“Do you really want to talk here? Like this? Or can we go back to our seats and have a civil discussion?”

I spit on his fucking face. I’ve never been so livid, so disgusted in my entire life.

A scowl shifts his features and I hate how he looks. He reaches up with his hand to wipe my spit from his cheek. “I’m gonna let that slide because I know I’ve upset you. But please make no mistake…if you do that again, there will be consequences.”

I gasp because the look on his face tells me he’s painfully serious.

When he’s satisfied with my stillness, he speaks again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to deal with you so roughly. But that’s why it’s time for me to tell you the truth about your future. You need to understand what’s really happening here.”

My eyes widen and air rushes quickly through my nostrils, my chest heaving up and down with my quickening breaths. “What’s really happening?”

He sighs. “Are you done fighting me now?”

I take a beat, staring at him intently, trying to figure out what I should do. My instinct is to fight, but I see where that got me—pinned to the goddamn wall, fearful of a man I thought I was falling for only moments ago. I’m trapped with him—not just in this bathroom, but on this plane at thirty-thousand feet, flying over open ocean. It only occurs to me now that I don’t really know where we’re going. He said he was taking me to Ireland.

But what if that was a lie?

Has it all been lies?

I have no choice but to play it cool and find a way to keep calm so he doesn’t hurt me.

I never would’ve dreamed he could hurt me like this.

Slowly, I nod.

And just as slowly, he loosens his grip on me. When he’s satisfied that I’m calm enough, he releases my hands and takes a step back. I drop my arms from the wall, bringing them down to my sides.

“Good girl,” he says.

“Fuck you. I’m not your fucking dog.”

His lips quirk up at the corner. “Right, you aren’t. My dog obeys without a fight.”

I almost think he means it as a joke, but God, if that isn’t the must condescending, disgusting thing I’ve ever heard a man say to me.

Stay calm.

He gives me a once over, then turns and opens the door. “Come on, let’s go have a seat and I’ll tell you everything.”

He leaves me alone in the bathroom and I start searching, scanning the space for something, anything I can take out with me as a weapon because suddenly, I’m afraid of the man I’ve been falling for. But there’s nothing. It’s empty aside from a soap dispenser, paper towels, and toilet paper. I push out a heavy breath through my rounded lips, tug down my skirt, and cautiously step out from the bathroom.

I’m hypervigilant as I scan the cabin, my eyes falling on him, and I’m surprised to find him back in his seat, sitting casually and watching me, as if nothing at all had just happened in the bathroom. I swallow my rising fear and move toward my seat. When I reach it, I lower slowly, never taking my eyes off him.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He could almost have me fooled that he’s being sincere. “I truly didn’t mean to get so rough with you. And I won’t have to be that way again once we understand each other a little better.”

I choose my words carefully, though a flurry of hateful words try to claw their way up my throat. “What do I need to understand?”

“I haven’t been entirely honest with you.”

My heart beats double time. “What do you mean?”

“I haven’t exactly been dishonest with you, either. I haven’t told you any lies, but I’ve omitted some rather important information. But it was necessary in order to get you here.”

Oh, my God.

“What information?”

“What my family does…Who we are…Who I want you to be.”

I grip the armrests, my fingers feeling like claws as they curl around the leather. “Who do you want me to be?”

“I want you to be you…but mine.”

The way he wants me still makes my belly flutter senselessly, though now the flutters are followed quickly by nausea. I press my eyes shut. “I was yours. I was.”

“You still are. You will always be. Your choice in that is no longer yours to make.”

A tear slips down my cheek. “I don’t understand. What are you saying?”

“You made the choice to leave with me. I asked you to come away with me and you said yes. You packed your bags and you got on this plane with me. All of your own free will. Isn’t that right?”

I nod, opening my eyes.

“You made the choice to be with me, but you no longer have the choice to leave.”

A stab of pain shoots through my chest. “What do you mean? What do you mean, Murphy? What do youmean I don’t have the choice to leave?”

He shifts to sit up straighter and looks at me squarely, seriously, grimly. “It’s time for me to tell you about the four families.”