by Davis, Carla
Bundling my skirt at my waist, he trailed gentle fingers over the edge of my panties. In response, my hips rocked and pushed my inflamed sex to his engorged penis. With a groan, he removed his lips from mine and looked directly into my eyes. “You are so beautiful,” he mumbled, as one hand lifted to my face and scooped a loose strand of hair behind my ear. The fingers of his other hand were slipping down into my panties.
I froze, every muscle in my body tensing with dread. I hadn’t prepared for this. If I’d allowed myself to think that it could actually happen, maybe I would have waxed for him; that’s what most men like, I thought to myself. As it was, my hair was trimmed and shaved into a neat triangle, but what if he didn’t like it? What if he was used to hairless women, and found me unattractive or even disgusting?
The tips of his fingers moved inextricably lower, meeting the hair that began at my pubic bone. He didn’t pause; there was no surprise, no reaction of any kind. Instead, his hand continued to smooth lower, eventually reaching my distended lips and drawing his forefinger between them.
I watched his face closely, searching for any sign of disappointment with my body. He was still looking up at me, his features fervid and open. As Alex’s moistened finger slid up to my clitoris, my jaw fell open in a silent moan of pleasure. I was no longer able to keep my eyes on his. Instead, they drifted closed and my head dropped back.
“Alex, please,” I panted, thrusting slightly and offering my needy opening to his affectionate touch.
However, he did not heed my request. While his index finger continued to roll playfully over the swollen bead, his middle finger stroked between my folds.
He was driving me insane with longing. Blistering heat flushed my face, throbbing desire pulsed through my passage, and an ache of restlessness had settled heavily in my pelvis.
“God, you’re sexy,” he whispered, his hand at my face curling around the back of my head and coaxing me down to him.
I went willingly, dropping forward until my forehead rested on his. Gradually, I opened my eyes, my vision hazy.
“Look at me,” he urged.
I blinked, trying to focus on him. His eyes were so unwavering in their intensity that I felt helpless and vulnerable. My breath was still coming hard and fast in my chest; I kept my gaze on him.
Leaving my clitoris bereft, his forefinger moved to join the middle one and he gently pushed both until the tips slipped almost imperceptibly inside me.
Instinctively, my eyelids drooped as I squirmed in an effort to work him deeper.
He resisted. “Look at me,” he repeated, refusing to move.
I forced my eyes open and braced my hands on his shoulders. As soon as my gaze met his once more, he tenderly pushed his fingers forward, curling them as he went and stroking the front wall of my sex.
Sensing that the rules of the game meant he’d stop if I took my focus from him, I continued to watch him. Finding his lips curling in a smile, I offered a shaky grin in return.
“Hmm,” he hummed, his fingers questing deeper still. “You feel so good, Mel.”
Needing more, my trembling hands quickly descended to his lap and began to unbuckle his belt. Leaving it loose at his waist, I unfastened his pants and tugged down the zipper. He grunted in relief as his erection was offered more space, but it was still firmly held within the confines of his tight boxer briefs. Reaching between the fabric, I shyly wrapped my hand around his shaft and gasped at the realization of just how large he was.
“You okay?” he asked lifting his face and placing his mouth to mine in a quick but expressive kiss.
“Yes,” I replied, nodding.
Carefully, I eased him free of his underwear and beheld the sight of him. His circumcised head was pink and glistening with arousal; the shaft was almost completely straight with just the slightest curve that, in that position, caused the bulbous tip to curl toward his belly. It was incredibly thick, at least eight inches in length, and throbbing with a winding, bulging vein.
Clasping him, I worked my hand back and forth, imagining the vastness moving within me. He was considerably bigger than the men I’d been to bed with and I wasn’t sure if I could comfortably accommodate him.
However, as his fingers suddenly left me and both hands grabbed either side of my panties, the need to feel him was much greater than my trepidation.
“I’ll buy you a new pair,” he muttered, before roughly tearing the fabric in his hands and stripping it away from my body.
Uncaring about my underwear, I lifted my weight onto my knee and shuffled forward. His manhood still in my hand, I held him steady, stroking my warm folds over his tip and stopping when we were aligned.
Hesitantly, I pushed down slightly, breathing deeply as I felt my body stretching. “Argh,” I gasped. Releasing his shaft, I grasped his shoulders and, with tears forming in my eyes, I looked down at him. I wasn’t aware of a desire to cry, it came upon me without warning. Sudden, powerful emotions, coupled with the way his body widened me in its quest for entrance, made me feel as though I was losing my virginity all over again. Only this time, it was exactly as I had always imagined it would be. This was the kind of sex that made women crave it.
“You all right?” Alex softly asked, shifting his head back so he could really look at me.
Silently a tear spilled onto my cheek. “Yeah,” I smiled nodding. “It’s just…” I said, a lump in my throat strangling the words. “It’s been a while,” I acknowledged apologetically. “And…umm,” I added. “You’re…err…”
“It’s okay,” he smoothly said, halting my pitiful attempts to speak. “We can take it slow,” he offered simply. “You’re in control.”
Giving him a grateful smile, I leaned into him. “Touch me,” I whispered.
Using both hands, Alex gently cupped my breasts, rubbing his thumbs over the softening nipples and stirring them once again into hot, hard points. Experiencing the warmth between my legs as well as at my chest, I ventured to impale myself further, swallowing up half of him with an ecstatic moan.
The fingers of Alex’s right hand fell away from my bosom and slid down to my pubic bone, he pressed his palm against it and rubbed in a circle, before placing his soft finger against my clitoris and stroking in up and down motions.
“Oh, God,” I whimpered, my thighs beginning to burn with the effort of keeping myself above him.
“You’re so sexy,” he mumbled, leaning forward and tracing my left areola with the tip of his tongue.
“Ugh,” I groaned, plunging down a little further and experiencing the delicious, powerful sensation of my body lengthening and swelling under the pressure of his large, steely length.
“Mmm,” he moaned, his teeth gently gripping the nipple.
Caressing the nape of his neck, I dropped forward and pressed my cheek to the top of his head. “Alex,” I mewled, letting go and pushing my hips until they met his, consuming the final two inches of his shaft. My pubic bone was then pressed against his, he was entirely sheathed within me and, as my fingers dug into the thick muscles at his shoulders, I felt the tension slowly release. I felt flutters and throbs as my passage made the final adjustments and then, finally, I relaxed into him.
“Mel,” he panted, his breath coming hard against the curve of my breast. “You feel so warm; so soft.”
Chapter Four
For several moments, we remained that way, simply enjoying the fact that we were one. My body quickly grew restless, though, and I rocked uneasily against him. I wanted to feel him moving within me; plunging in and out in that age-old rhythm. However, my legs were trembling and weak; I knew I didn’t have the strength left to thrust myself above him. “Alex,” I mumbled, running my hands through the short, soft hair at the top of his neck. “I can’t…” I murmured, still rocking.
Apparently, he didn’t need a more eloquent version and understood my gauche efforts to tell him what I needed. Grasping my hips, he suddenly flipped me to the right, twisting as he moved, so that when my back hit
the couch, he was still securely inside me.
“Is this what you want?” he asked, his voice deeper than I’d ever heard it before.
“Yes,” I replied, wide-eyed from the shock of our motion, but nodding eagerly.
He claimed my mouth as his hips pulled back slowly. I felt every tiny ridge of veins and twitch of his motion, and moaned into his open lips. He didn’t pull completely free, nor did he pause. Instead, he smoothly thrust forward.
“Ugh, ugh, ugh…yes,” I whimpered, relishing the power with which he entered me. Still with my shoes in place, I crossed my feet somewhere at the base of his spine before edging them higher and moaning once more as it caused him to sink deeper still.
Again, Alex slowly drew back and this time plunged forward quicker than before.
The head of his shaft struck me sharply and I bucked against him with a squealed mixture of discomfort and pleasure.
“Too much?” he asked, lifting his head in concern.
“No,” I breathlessly replied. “Don’t stop, don’t stop!”
Lifting his upper body, he placed his hands flat on the couch either side of me. Bracing most of his weight, he began to pump his hips faster and with more strength. Each drive forward was coupled with a groan of satisfaction from him and a breathy moan of pleasure from me.
I looked up at him and studied his face, frozen in concentration and biting down on his bottom lip. My hands, which had been at his back, slid down to his buttocks, grasping the large muscles and enjoying the sensation as they clenched each time his hips met mine.
I began to arch, meeting his thrusts, as I felt a pressure building in my pelvis. “Ugh, God,” I panted.
“Argh,” he groaned, stepping up the speed of his motion.
Each time he filled me, his pubic bone struck my clitoris and, with the increased speed and friction, I experienced the mounting orgasm. Sucking in a breath, I held it as I rolled my hips in a tiny circle.
“Oh, Mel,” he breathed. “I’m close.”
“Alex,” I screamed, feeling that I was about to explode. “Yes, yes, yes!” I mumbled, my eyes clamping shut and fingers contracting tightly at his buttocks. I trembled and my hips jerked and bucked; my internal muscles spasming quickly in an arrhythmic pattern.
“Ugh,” he grunted, thrusting once more and remaining deep inside me, his own pelvis jolting as if charged with electricity.
Then the warmth of his seed filled me in three strong bursts, and it suddenly occurred to me that neither one of us had stopped to think about protection.
“Oh, shit,” he gasped, breathless and perspiring. Closing his eyes, his face dropped to mine and he kissed me tenderly. “I’m sorry,” he panted against my mouth. “I totally forgot.”
“It’s okay,” I responded calmly, as my fingers, which were struck with pins and needles, gradually released their hold of his behind. “I didn’t think, either. I’m…err…okay, though. I mean, it’s been a long time since I last had sex and that was protected, so I don’t have anything.”
With lazy eyes, he peered down at me. “I wasn’t worried about that,” he smiled. “And, just in case you were, I’m safe, too.”
“I’m not worried,” I replied. At that time, it was the truth, the next day it may have occurred to me to begin worrying, but right then and there, those concerns were far from my mind. I was too fixated on the way he felt within me, how right it seemed to have him fill me completely. He was softening, but still his body was exquisitely secure within mine.
“And, what about…?” he asked.
“Oh, I’m on the pill,” I replied, assuring him that the chances of me being impregnated by the encounter were remote. Of course, taking the contraceptive pill was blasphemy as far as my parents were concerned. But it had been advised by my doctor to help regulate my cycle and, more importantly, they didn’t know about it.
We lay there, content for several minutes. I didn’t mind his bulk pushing me into the couch. Somehow it felt comforting. Occasionally, we’d share a sleepy kiss or one of us would release a satisfied sigh that caused the other to chuckle. However, as we gradually began to feel the chill in the air and our bodies and brains returned to the reality of our situation, I wondered where we’d go from here.
Alex began to get up, saying, “I guess we ought to get dressed, we’ll be landing in a few minutes.”
I stopped him, curling my arms around him. I needed to know something before we parted, before real life butted its way back into the perfect moments we’d shared. “So, umm…I guess I’ll have to look for another job?” I suggested, a hopefully little smile on my lips.
“Why?” he asked, his dark brows creasing.
My heart sank and the smile faded. “Oh,” I sighed, releasing him as if his skin burnt me. “I just thought,” I muttered. “Never mind,” I insisted, shaking my head and pushing at his chest in an effort to slip out from underneath him.
“You thought what?” he asked, refusing to budge. “What’s wrong?”
“I just thought that this meant something,” I gabbled. “I’m sorry.”
“It did mean something,” he responded quickly. “But I don’t-” he stopped himself, a dawning realization lifting the heaviness of his confused eyebrows. Smiling, he placed a hand on my cheek, rubbing his curved forefinger over my jaw. “I’ve always made it a rule not to get involved with people I work with,” he sighed, grinning broadly. “But I think I’m prepared to make an exception for you.”
Noting the sparkle in his sincere eyes, I knew he wasn’t simply telling me what I wanted to hear. “Are you sure?” I asked, suddenly concerned that I was causing him to backtrack on his personal ethics.
“I’m sure,” he replied. “I don’t want to fly with anyone else,” he assured me softly. His lips slowly descending and, seeming to seal the deal, he molded his mouth to mine.
While trying to kiss him back, I found myself unable to prevent the silly grin that contorted my lips. Something told me that work was about to get a lot more interesting.
To be continued…
Flown By The Billionaire II
By
Carla Davis
Prologue
Melissa Cannagh had been a shy, awkward teenager who attended an all-girls’ Catholic school and was sheltered from any kind of sex education. She lost her virginity at the age of twenty-one and, at that time, began to turn away from religion. However, now at almost thirty years old, she’s had just three sexual partners and has experienced the same problem with every boyfriend: she’s never fully enjoyed sex and, through years of being told it’s a sinful act, she invariably feels dirty afterward.
Nevertheless, she focused on other facets of her life, securing a good job and her own apartment in New York. But that all changed when the financial crash resulted in her company laying off nearly a hundred members of staff. After months of trying to find alternative employment, she has no choice but to give up her home and move back in with her overbearing, devoutly religious parents.
Desperate to get back on her feet, she applies for every job she can find, even fields in which she has no experience, and eventually finds herself being interviewed to become a member of aircrew for a private plane. Although she’s overqualified and inexperienced, the interviewer takes pity on her and agrees to a trial period.
That trial period looks like it may be in jeopardy when Melissa is instantly attracted to Alex Race, the man who owns the plane and whose company she now works for. Soon, it becomes apparent that he’s interested in her, too. However, he tells her that he’s got a rule regarding relationships with people he works with.
The large luxury jet becomes more claustrophobic as the tension between them continues to grow. When they’re alone in the plane, Alex asks her to sit and talk with him. During one of these conversations, Melissa learns that the young businessman is divorced and has a son.
Eventually, despite Alex’s conviction not to engage in an inappropriate relationship with a women who works for him, and Meli
ssa’s reticence regarding sex, passion and desire overcome them both and they make love right there in the plane.
Although Alex assures Melissa that it’s more than just a fling to him, will her old concerns and hang-ups cause her to shy away from being flown by the billionaire again?
Chapter One
Sitting in traffic, I fidgeted, my hand clasping and unclasping over the gearshift. I glanced at the small digital display above the stereo and established, for the seventh time, that even with the delay, I wasn’t going to be late. No, it wasn’t a lack of time that agitated me. It was the thought of seeing Alex Race again.
It had been a week since his last flight and since I had last seen him. I’d wanted to give him the number of my cell as we’d stood awkwardly on the tarmac, aware that we could be seen and wanting desperately to say ‘goodbye’ in a way that reflected the passion we’d shared that afternoon. However, we professionally parted ways, with me unwilling to offer my phone number in case I seemed like an inexperienced, clingy teenager.
The last seven days, which should have been a vacation, have actually been anything but. Left alone with my thoughts, I’ve been driving myself crazy; reliving every second of that afternoon and finding all the ways in which I may have disappointed him.
It was ridiculous. And part of me knew that.
Alex hadn’t acted as if he were remotely unhappy or dissatisfied with my performance or my body. But my sheltered adolescence and comparative inexperience created insecurities that I was not strong enough to battle alone.
So, as I sat in the unmoving car, I began to berate myself. ‘He won’t be as pleased to see you as you are to see him,’ I silently remonstrated. ‘Just get a grip.’
After an uncomfortable thirty minutes, I finally made it to Teterboro Airport. Getting out of the car, I quickly fastened my scarlet neck scarf and found myself blushing like a prudish Victorian maiden when I was suddenly struck with the recollection of his fingers removing it. Pulling myself together, I strode to the office, signed in and then went out onto the runway.