Page 143 of Rut Bar

His hips rock against mine and his grip slides around to my front, fingers curling around my pelvis until his middle one slips between my labia. It strokes over my clit, pulls the hood back, and makes circles. He goes still, everything but his pulsing cock and stroking fingers locking into place.

His knot pops, filling me until it’s too much. Too wide and too stuffed. But there’s no choice but to take it. To stretch and surrender. His cock kicks and he grunts with every spurt of seed inside me. He lashes my walls with cum, the fluid trapped by his knot, and his fingers don’t stop. They toy with me. Make me pant and arch and writhe on his knot.

He winds me until all I can think about is how full I am. Full of cock. Cum. Need.

There’s a banging on the bathroom door that matches the pounding of my pulse between my thighs. Someone impatiently tries the door, the flimsy material almost giving as they jiggle it. My cunt tightens on his cock with unhinged delight.

“Occupied,” Brendan growls, his voice deep and rough. His fingers never stop petting me. They stroke over our tie and tease my clit. They work me as hard and fast as his cock did until I’m panting and desperate to come.

“It’s been a long time, man. Hurry up. There are other people who need the bathroom.”

“Find another one,” Brendan answers. He rubs circles, adds pressure, gathers up my slick arousal and uses it until the need to come tightens in my belly.

I whimper, biting my lip to stifle the sound before it can grow too loud, and ignore the way his knot tugs at me as I grind my clit against his hand.

He shoves his other hand down my shirt and pulls my breast free of its bra cup. He finds my nipple. Rolls it under his fingers. Pinches it. Twists. The sharp tug goes straight to my groin and I come on his knot.

I’m no longer capable of stopping my noises and gasps. Now when my walls flutter on the bulge of his knot. When his cock gives another kick deep inside me, his head brushing against my cervix as he gives me one last spurt of cum. A reward.

“That’s my good girl,” he says softly. Brendan strokes my butt and hips, curls a hand possessively over my belly where his cock is lodged deep. He presses, driving the ache of his knot deep in my guts.

Oh, fuck. If he keeps doing that, he’s going to get me going again. We’ll be banned from this airline for life.“We should probably get out of here before they get desperate and break the door down,” I say.

His agreement is a huff and a fondle of the outline of his buried cockhead through my belly. He shivers and gives me a final spurt that makes his chest rumble.

It takes a bit for his knot to soften enough for us to pull apart. Brendan shoves a wad of nearly see through toilet paper between my thighs to catch the bulk of the spill. He helps me clean up. We fix our clothes and take turns washing our hands, shoving the cum-smeared paper down the metal toilet and flushing it away with a whoosh.

There’s no hiding as we leave the bathroom. Brendan scoots around me and goes first, enduring the waiting passenger’s displeasure, and I follow him as we head back to our seats. Not even the sour looks on the flight attendants’ faces or the shock, disgust, and baffled amusement of the surrounding passengers can ruin my buzz.

We take our seats and I fidget in mine, my pussy delightfully sore. After a moment of silence we glance at each other, and I can’t stop my giggle. I can’t believe we really did that.

For the rest of the flight, I’m not nervous at all. Not when the plane shakes and shudders or my ears pop as we land. Brendan’s heavy hand falls on my thigh and squeezes, and I lean against him, breathing in the comfort of his delicious scent.

ChapterThirty-Nine

VERONICA

BringingBrendan along to join me in these meetings turns out to be the best decision I ever made. Not because I need him there to do my job, but because he serves as a litmus test for the worthiness of the potential investors.

It doesn’t matter that he sits behind me and slightly to the side. Or that I shake their hands and do most of the talking, only deferring to him when they have a specific question about quarterly earnings and expenses from the year before that I haven’t memorized. Or that I introduced myself as the founder and president of Rut.

They all talk to him.Him. As if the sheer fact he’s an alpha or a man means somehow he’s in charge, even when I’ve made it very clear that he’s not. I am. Still, the investors disappoint me one by one.

“Thank you for your time,” I tell this latest group, my fake customer-service smile and high-pitched voice disappearing the moment the door closes behind them. “Fuck. This has been an enormous waste of time.” All of that preparation. The agonizing. Was it really all for nothing?

Everyone is going to be so disappointed when we return to LA without an investor. I can already hear Nate’s displeasure ringing in my ears. He’ll argue that I should have brought him instead of Brendan. But that was by design, not by accident.

Nate has a habit of stealing the spotlight. He can’t help it. It’s the Broadway background running through his veins. Every stage is his show. Every room he’s in is his stage.

“Don’t say that,” Brendan says, coming behind me and rubbing my shoulders over my smart black suit.

I’m so annoyed by their subtle bigotry and the way they look down on omega business owners. I can’t be mad that Brendan’s shoulder rub is going to wrinkle my suit. What’s the point? Not like they’ll notice. All they can stare at is the tiny centimeter of tasteful cleavage that shows above the neckline of my modest blouse. I even wore pants for this meeting today to avoid them ogling my legs.

“We haven’t found the right investor yet. These things take time,” he reassures me. “How many are left?”

“One.”

One appointment stands between me and failure. But maybe this is a good thing. A gift in disguise. Perhaps it’s the universe telling me New York is a mistake and we should go with Las Vegas instead. Some of the top clubs in the country are in Las Vegas. But I wanted to get a foothold on both coasts before working our way inward. And I know Nate won’t be nearly as happy about Vegas. It’s a city that’s already way over-saturated with sparkly thongs. It won’t be a salacious splash.

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