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Chapter Eight. Mach One.
The pre-dawn darkness was still heavy when Ana arrived at the facility the next morning. The mood in the control room was a curious mix of professional efficiency and barely contained excitement. Engineers and technicians moved with purpose, checking systems, running diagnostics, speaking in the specialized language of their discipline.
Ana found an unobtrusive spot in the observation area, setting up her notebook and camera. Through the large windows, she could see the aircraft waiting on the tarmac — its sleek lines looking predatory even in the dim light. The name painted on its side — Vector — seemed fitting for something designed to push boundaries.
Zee arrived thirty minutes before the scheduled takeoff, moving with the easy confidence of a man completely in his element. He conferred briefly with the flight director, then approached the observation area where Ana was waiting.
“You made it,” he said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Wouldn’t miss this for the world,” Ana replied. “How are you feeling?”
“Ready,” he said simply. “The pre-flight checks are complete. Weather conditions optimal. The aircraft is performing to specifications in all simulations.”
He paused, looking directly at her. “But there’s something I want to do before I go.”
Before Ana could respond, he took her hand, leading her away from the main observation area toward a small private office attached to the control room. The space was minimal — just a desk, two chairs, and a window looking out onto the runway.
“The control room has this office for private consultations,” Zee explained, closing and locking the door behind them. “But I’ve always thought it served a better purpose as a stress-relief chamber.”
He turned to face her, and Ana saw the predatory look in his eyes — the one she’d come to recognize preceded particularly intense encounters. “I need something to focus my mind,” he said, his voice low. “A physical anchor to keep me grounded during the flight.”
“What kind of anchor?” Ana asked, though she already knew the answer.
Zee responded by pulling her into a fierce kiss, one that was more about possession than passion. His hands roamed her body, reacquainting themselves with her curves and hollows. Ana felt herself responding instantly, her body remembering the intensity of the previous night, wanting more.
“I need you,” Zee murmured against her mouth, his hands moving to the waistband of her pants. “Right here, right now.”
The urgency of his request sent a thrill through Ana. This wasn’t about exploration or connection — this was raw, primal need, the desire for a physical release that would carry him through the intense concentration required for the flight.
She helped him undress, their movements clumsy in their haste. The office was small, the space constrained, but somehow this added to the intensity rather than detracting from it. When they were finally naked, Zee lifted her onto the desk, the cool surface a shock against her heated skin.
“I want to remember exactly how you feel when I’m breaking the sound barrier,” he said, positioning himself between her legs. “I want to carry the memory of your body with me into the cockpit.”
He entered her then without warning or preparation — a hard, fast thrust that made her gasp with both pleasure and pain. There was nothing gentle about this encounter; it was primal, urgent, driven by a need that went beyond simple desire.
Zee’s movements were powerful, almost brutal, each thrust driving her harder against the desk. Ana wrapped her legs around him, pulling him deeper, meeting his intensity with her own. The sounds of their coupling filled the small office — the slap of skin against skin, the harsh rasp of their breathing, the small whimpers that escaped her lips.
“Look at me,” Zee commanded, his hands gripping her hips hard enough to leave bruises. “I want to see your face when you come.”
