by Shayne Ford
Friday evening, he sends a car to my place to pick me up and take me to the airport.
I travel light. A small suitcase with a few dresses, a light jacket, boots, jeans, a couple of T-shirts and pajamas are some of the things that I take with me.
The car picks me up at six o’clock sharp. Forty minutes later, I walk into Ed Preston’s jet. Promptly, a member of the crew greets me and courteously shows me around.
A soft glow illuminates the interior, the color combination–– light gray and black, coming to life under the discreet lights of the ceiling, floors, and walls.
I’m the first one to arrive.
The engines are already running when my guide leads me to the master suite where a bedroom with a double bed, sleek sofas, and stylish chairs fill the space. Here and there, black panels punctuate the decor, adding a dash of masculine elegance.
“Mr. Preston would be with you any moment,” the woman says, a smile brightening her eyes. “Dinner and champagne will be served as soon as we reach the cruising altitude. In the meantime, you can let me know if there is anything you need right now before we take off,” she says, making a sweeping gesture with her arm and pointing to a small table and chairs sitting nearby.
“I’m good. Thank you.”
She helps me with my suitcase before she smoothly pulls away.
I shed my jacket, run my hands over my soft knit cream dress and take a seat in one of the chairs, my eyes sweeping the tarmac, searching for him.
Within minutes, cold rain begins to fall, the night becoming a wet dark backdrop with scattered lights here and there–– watery smudges across the window.
Ten minutes later the headlights of a car cut into the thick darkness. The vehicle pulls to a stop before the back door slides open and a man clad in a coat rushes to the plane–– his hands tucked in his pockets, his chin tipped down to shield his eyes from the falling rain, the collar of his coat lifted.
Moments later, I hear Ed's familiar voice in the aircraft as he exchanges a few words with the woman and the rest of the crew.
He walks in, smoothly shedding his coat, his eyes looking for me as if we haven’t seen each other in months.
He runs a long-fingered hand through his hair, brushing off beads of rain, the corners of his lips lifted with a sensual smile.
I take him in as well as I rise to my feet, his dark gray suit looking sharp and dressy, his shirt’s collar white and bright against his skin.
Cold air mixed with the scent of rain and the aroma of his cologne drifts in my direction.
His eyes hover over me as he takes a quick inventory of my dress, high heel boots, nude painted lips, and wavy hair. The small red scarf wrapped around my neck catches his eye too.
His gaze stays locked with mine as he stretches his hand out, takes mine, and brings me to him.
In one fluid motion, he wraps me in his embrace, cuffs the side of my neck and presses his lips against mine.
Small shockwaves ripple through me, the warmth of his lips making me melt in his arms.
“Hey, baby...” he purrs against my lips, the vibration of his voice, reverberating all over my skin.
“Hey...” I mutter, bringing my hand to his face, stroking his cheek.
Touching him with tenderness, I read his eyes.
Happiness beams in his gaze, and I’d like to think that I’m partly responsible for it. I also notice a hint of sadness, but that was always there. It’s just that he concealed it better.
“I apologize for the delay,” he says, breaking away from me, and taking his jacket off as well.
He motions me to the chair where I’d been sitting before he arrived, and announces the crew that we are ready to take off.
“I like your hair,” he says minutes later as we fly at cruising altitude, eating a light dinner and soaking our lips in rose champagne.
My eyes move slowly from his eyes to his lips, and then his hard chest, smooth shirt and metallic watch wrapped around his wrist.
Smiling, I set the glass down.
“Thank you,” I say with a soft voice in response to his compliment, my gaze dipping for a moment, my smile faltering.
“What is it?” he asks, prompting me to lift my gaze.
I’m quick at plastering a smile on my face.
“Nothing.”
He leans back in his seat, a grin lighting up his face as he lifts his arms and rubs the back of his neck. His shirt stretches even more across his pecs.
“What is it, Thea?” he insists.
It takes me a few seconds before I start to speak.
“I was thinking about next week.”
He folds his arms across his chest, still smiling as if he knows what I’m about to say.
I’m sure he does.
“What’s next week?”
Our eyes stay connected–– his gaze warm, lined with a playful smile, mine filled with worry.
“You’re leaving,” I say, the words scraping my throat like bits of gravel.
“Mmm-hmm. And?”
Although suppressed to a degree, his smile still lights up his eyes.
“I’m going to miss you.”
“You’ll be leaving soon after.”
“Yes. And we’re still going to be apart.”
He gives me a lopsided grin.
I smile as well.
“I’m not in the mood for games, Ed.”
A soft laugh falls from his lips.
“No more games, baby.”
Finally, he unfolds his arms and straightens in his seat.
“Don’t worry,” he says as he picks up his glass from the table and brings it to his lips.
My eyes stay on his mouth for a few long moments as he sips champagne.
“I’m not worried,” I say, denying the very truth.
“We’ll be seeing each other,” he says, no teasing in his voice this time.
Our eyes connect again.
He studies my expression for a few seconds.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“I’m going to be in school.”
“We’ll find a way.”
“Are you truly going to visit me?” I ask skeptically.
His response comes promptly.
“Yes.”
“Okay,” I say, relaxing in my chair.
“Feel better?” he asks, observing me through his lashes.
I give him a small smile.
“Are you sure you’re not simply messing with me?”
“Why would I?”
I spend a few more seconds reading his eyes before I start to push out of my chair and rise.
“Okay then. If you’ll excuse me, I need to go to the bathroom.”
His gaze goes up with me and then it follows me as I pivot away, and head to the bathroom door sitting next to the double bed in the back.
I feel his stare all the way–– on my back and legs, on my backside.
Moments later, I struggle with the doorknob, unable to open the door.
I shoot him a side glance.
Without a word, he springs out of his chair and paces to me.
For a few seconds, I get completely distracted as I watch him walk toward me.
His fingers meet mine as he easily unlocks the door.
I stay still, and so does he, his shoulders leaning against the doorframe, his eyes cradling a smile.
His gaze hovers over my face–– my lips, my eyes, and hair, while mine stays rooted to his eyes.
“I love the fact that you can’t stay away from me for long,” he says, his grin still clinging to his lips, although his voice is serious as if he means every word.
Warmth spreads through me as I read the longing for me harbored in his eyes, the kind that makes you soft inside.
The moment stretches as I don’t seem to be able to tear away from him, and he surely doesn’t want to let me go.
His lips curve a little more, his smile flowing through his eyes.
He pushes off the doorframe, straightens, and er
ases the small space between us. His arms drape around my body, his embrace pressing me against his frame.
The memory of last Friday comes to me in a split second. The phone sex, the pictures, my hand gripping the sheet, my fingers sliding deep into me...
His words.
Oh, yes his words.
I start to tremble inside, wrestling with a longtime suppressed feeling, not to say the nervousness and anxious anticipation.
It’s been a while since I felt him inside me.
His hands come to my shoulders as my fingers slacken on the doorknob.
Unhurriedly, he drags his gaze down, registering the rising and the falling of my chest.
He slides his hands down as well, across my collarbones, and to my chest where he cups my breasts–– his face still tilted down.
My skin gets flooded with a warm sensation as I sense his warm, tender touch through the soft wool knit of my dress.
He gently squeezes my lace-encased mounds, prompting me to part my lips as I breathe out a quiet gasp.
He moves his hands without the slightest rush, enjoying every sensation flowing through his touch.
When I expect the least, he lowers his mouth and locks my lips, invading my senses, making my tongue swirl with his in a quiet feast of pleasure. My hands slide smoothly to his neck as my breath becomes one with his.
He couldn’t be clearer than that. The passion in his hot kiss, and undeniably, the need to consummate and own.
He shows me his hunger–– even bigger than before.
He shows me emotion as well.
His teeth sink into my bottom lip making me whimper before he breaks the kiss and looks at me with playful eyes.
Leaning closer, he breathes against my lips.
“You. Are. Mine. Miss Porter. There’s nowhere you can go.”
My fingers splay on his clean-shaven cheek, a grin tickling my lips.
“Am I your hostage, Mr. Preston?”
“You are way more than that, and you need to make up for what you did to me last week. Big time,” he says, his eyes glinting with mischief.
“But I didn’t do anything...” I mutter, playing his game. “Am I going to get punished now?” I ask, arching an eyebrow and giving him a flirty smile.
His finger comes to my lips as he breathes on them again.
“Turn around,” he says, his eyes dancing with a grin.
Pushing back a smile, I spin around the way he wants me.
With one flick of a hand, he sweeps all my hair over my shoulder and lets his palms slide onto my back. He goes past my waist, follows the contour of my backside, and reaches the hemline of my dress.
Smoothly, he slinks his fingers underneath and makes the trip back up, snagging and lifting my skirt.
“Put your hands on the door,” he says, my skin dotting with goosebumps and tingling from his touch.
He slides his hands around my hips to the spot between my legs and pulls my backside against his groin.
“Oh, my...” I breathe out as I feel his bulge.
He’s hard as steel.
With one hand he holds my skirt up, with the other brushing my stomach before he slides his fingers down, slipping them inside my panties.
A moan falls from my lips as I slowly arch my back and thrust my bottom out, rubbing the hard ridge of his erection through the soft wool of his suit pants.
He presses his hard length against me even more, his fingers sliding a little lower, parting my folds, and slipping into my wet entrance. The heel of his hand exerts pressure just above my pubic bone, increasing my pleasure, a sensitive spot inside me craving a good rubbing.
My fingers tense as well, my butt pressing hard against his hardness, the tension between us scaling up fast.
He strokes me for a few more moments before he tears his hands away from me as if he knows how close I am to come.
Smoothly, he slides my zipper down and removes my dress.
My scarf slithers around my neck as he pulls it away, and ties my wrists with it.
My arms are up, propped on the door, my muscles tense, my body shaking, waiting for his touch.
“I’m getting cold...” I mutter.
“Not for long,” he says, the grin flashing through his voice beaming with promise.
He moves all my hair to my front, his fingers dancing slightly on my spine.
Tenderly he runs them down, stroking my skin, and playing with the straps of my bra, enjoying every moment, every shudder.
Body heat transfers from him to me as he positions himself at my back, and fills his hands with my butt cheeks.
His thumbs run little circles on my skin, pressing hard into my flesh before he pulls my panties to my thighs and slides a finger into me, sweeping through a film of wetness.
His bite comes on my neck unexpectedly, spurring a small scream on my lips.
“Ed...”
I’m sure someone on the plane has heard me, if not the pilot, then the woman with her coifed hair, and pretty uniform.
He laughs, having no problem to fuck me on the plane, crew on board and all.
“Stop fretting, baby,” he purrs in my ear as he catches sight of my side glance in the direction of the front door.
Without wasting time, he peels my bra off, flicks the buckle open, and tosses it on the bed.
His hands become my new bra, his fingers pinching and rolling my nipples. His hot breath fans over my neck again, his tongue soothing the spot he bit before.
A moment later, he sinks his teeth into my skin again.
“Argh... It hurts.”
He kisses it just as fast.
“Punishment hurts, baby.”
I breathe out a chuckle.
“Why do I have to be punished?” I ask, grinning.
“You know why.”
I laugh again.
“I want to be punished more often then. Would that be okay?” I ask teasingly.
His wolfish chuckle echoes in my ears.
“As often as you like.”
With that, he rips the panties off and drops them on the floor.
“You know... I packed lightly,” I say, eyeing the piece of fabric lying on the floor not far from us.
“Good thinking. You don’t need clothes anyway.”
His voice travels down along with him as he lowers himself behind my back.
“What did you say you wanted me to do to you last week?”
Without waiting for my answer, he starts kissing my inner thighs, his hands grabbing my butt cheeks, nudging my legs to open.
My thoughts get all scrambled as my mind spins empty.
“Hmm?” he mutters, his palms sliding onto my thighs and calves before they go up and grab my butt again.
He spreads me even more open.
I hear the soft sound of clenching as my entrance opens, and a shiver falls through me making my hips shake in his hands.
“Oh, damn it...” I murmur incoherently although his lips and mouth are not even there.
“Tell me, baby,” he says, slowly swirling the tip of his tongue on the delicate skin of my inner thighs.
I’m about to crumble as my hips begin to roll.
Cold air rolls over my heated sex, more wetness dripping.
Another flick of his tongue sweeps it off my flesh, giving him a taste of me.
“I like the way you punish, Mr. Preston.”
“You sure are my inspiration, Miss Porter.”
His mouth draws closer, and closer while I curve my spine, even more, exposing my swollen, wet flesh to his lips.
“Please...” I murmur with a quivering voice.
He presses his lips on the soft skin between my thigh and a fold and squeezes it between his teeth.
It gives me pain. It gives me pleasure.
It hurts, and also makes me shudder.
His fingers dig deep into my flesh.
“Do you want me to beg?” I ask as I feel my body straining, and my muscles, sore. My nipples hard as steel.
> “That would be a good start,” he says.
“For what?”
“For getting closer to what you want.”
A grin sets on my lips as I get distracted for a moment, and then I feel it–– his mouth crashing onto my sex, kissing me and tasting me the way he’d eat a ripened, juicy fruit in the heat of summer.
My wet arousal trickles in his mouth while I throb against his lips.
For a few moments, I feel the sharp edge of his teeth as much as the velvet of his tongue.
“Edward...” I growl and then I moan, wanting him to enter me.
“Do it,” I rumble, unable to stop myself from trembling.
No way, I can push the sensation back so that I control it.
He swirls his tongue a few more times and sucks on me before he thrusts it into me, making me see the light of pulsing stars.
“Oh, fuck... Fuck.”
My pleasure spikes, my hunger growing, my need for him impossible to stop.
I want him badly.
Legs shaking, I bend at my waist and practically sit on his face, feeding on the pleasure that he gives me.
I’m so close to finding relief when he pushes up, loops an arm around my waist, sweeps me off my feet and sets me on the edge of the bed.
My gaze tips up meeting his, a sly smile on his lips.
He parts his legs and sets his knees on either side of my thighs before he unbuckles his belt and tosses it on the bed next to my dress. His hand comes to the back of my head as he locks my hair in his fist, a cocky smile tilting his lips.
He tips his chin once.
And it’s enough for me to know...
I lift my tied hands to his groin and cup his bulge, feeling him up–– his hard cock, and tight balls, his muscular hips.
I keep rubbing his fly with my lips until I get a rush between my legs and start to run my tongue on the ridge of his shaft, stroking his thickness through the fabric of his pants.
Grinning satisfied, he softly nods while I squirm in front of him, holding his erection with both hands, running my tongue up.
He brings his free hand to his groin, slides the zipper down, works his fly open and lets his hard flesh bounce out of his boxer shorts and pants.
I shift my head to the right and press my lips on his erection while he cuffs the root of his hard length and guides my head. My lips close around the crown, slowly sliding down as my tongue begins to swirl and sweep the silky skin.
I swallow as much as I can until he hit the back of my throat. Mouth full, I slide off the bed and fall to my knees.