3 BOOK BUNDLE: Flown By The Billionaire I, II, & III

by Davis, Carla

  “Oh, God,” I muttered, head flopping back and hitting the door with a clunk that, any other time, would have been painful.

  He lingered, his tongue and lips tracing a path from my hip to my mound.

  During the week away from him, I had considered removing all of my hair, but as he’d already seen me with a neat pattern of dark curls and hadn’t seemed offended by it, I’d decided to leave it as it was. Of course, if I’d imagined his mouth making the kind of explorations it was, I might have had second thoughts.

  As he slowly kissed downward, reaching the very top of my vulva, he swept his strong right hand behind my left knee and encouraged it upward.

  Unable to resist, I lifted my leg and allowed him to hook it over his shoulder. The fingers that were still deep within his thick hair clenched nervously. No man had ever done what Alex was doing to me. None of my boyfriends had expressed any interest, and it hadn’t been something I’d given a lot of thought to.

  With the tips of his soft, warm fingers, he parted my flushed outer lips and his tongue swept luxuriously between them.

  “Ugh,” I panted, my entire body clenching at the new experience. It was so much sweeter than the caress of a hand.

  As the tip of Alex’s tongue reached my swollen clitoris, he tapped it, circled it and lapped teasingly at it.

  “Alex…arghh,” I sighed, my breath coming heavy and nosily, while the backs of my legs began to twitch uncontrollably. Forcing most of my weight into the door, I hoped that would keep me on my feet, although I suspected I was mere minutes away from having liquefied limbs.

  Suddenly though, the movement of Alex’s mouth ceased and he lifted his head from my body. “Crap,” he mumbled.

  In a daze, it took my brain several seconds to catch up. By the time I managed to say, “What’s wrong?” he was already leaping to his feet and brushing at the small pieces of lint on his knees.

  “Wait here,” he softly said, reaching a hand to the door and quickly opening it.

  “Alex?” I asked, as I was nudged to the right by the opening door.

  He said nothing in reply. Slipping out of the room, he quickly and quietly closed the door behind him.

  For a moment, I stood there with a muscle in my thigh twitching violently. I listened to the sound of my own blood rushing in my ears as my heart continued to pound with ferocious arousal that had come so close to being sated.

  “Nathan,” Alex’s voice reverberated from the plane’s main cabin. “I thought you’d gone.”

  “Yeah, I was just waiting for you. I wanted to apologize again for earlier,” the young man’s voice responded.

  “Oh, right,” Alex replied. “Well, as long as it doesn’t happen again.” His tone was calm, confident. There was nothing about it that would give away what we’d just been doing.

  “Did you find your phone?” Nathan asked.

  “No,” Alex sighed. “I don’t know where it could have got to.”

  “Hmm, do you want me to help?”

  “No, no,” he quickly assured his colleague. “It’s fine, you go on home.”

  “Well, I’d like to apologize properly to Melissa before I go,” Nathan explained. “Do you know where she is?”

  Eyes widening in panic at the possibility of being caught in my current lack of dress, I quickly bent down to pick up my skirt. As I hurriedly and indecorously yanked my underwear up, I continued to listen anxiously to their conversation.

  “Umm, she’s in the bedroom. She wondered if my cell might be in there.”

  “Okay.”

  “Wait,” Alex suddenly stated, and it was obvious to me that Nathan had begun to walk through the plane. “I…umm,” he added, not sounding as calm as he had before.

  Checking myself quickly in the full length mirror on the wall, I reached for the door handle and quickly opened it. “You were right, it’s definitely not in there,” I said, with a breezy shrug of my shoulders.

  Alex’s eyes met mine and something that looked like an apology passed between us. “Thanks for looking anyway,” he nodded.

  “Maybe you left it in Detroit,” Nathan suggested.

  “Maybe,” Alex conceded with a nod, his gaze still firmly on me.

  I listened to Nathan make a much more sincere version of his earlier apology, but my mind was fixated only on Alex.

  “So…umm, are we heading back to the city?” Nathan blurted, once he believed he’d made amends.

  “Sure,” Alex replied, slowing turning to pick up his briefcase.

  I stepped forward, watching Nathan trot eagerly down the steps.

  Alex quickly turned his head over his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  “Not your fault,” I replied, with a shake of my head.

  “I’m going to Paris in three days,” he added, seemingly apropos of nothing.

  I nodded, but my eyebrows crinkled.

  “I want you to come with me,” he explained hastily. “I don’t just mean on the flight,” he added. “I mean, stay in Paris with me for the week.”

  “What?” I replied.

  “You don’t have to decide right now,” he added, edging toward the stairs and acknowledging the still-waiting Nathan with a nod. “Just think about it,” he urged.

  “Okay,” I replied, too shell-shocked to really take in what he’d asked.

  Chapter Three

  For the next two days, I thought of precious little. Daydreams of the two of us being able to spend a whole week together, going to sleep in his arms, and making love with him for hours at a time. It was all too much for my raging libido to bear. And, of course, there was the memory of what he’d done to me in the plane’s bedroom; those precious moments that, had they not been interrupted, promised so much more.

  In other words, I was in no fit state to make a logical decision. Logic went to hell. And I went to Paris with Alex.

  We were alone on the flight out, and I expected him to pounce on me with the same pent-up desire with which I wanted to jump on him. However, he invited me to sit down in one of the large reclining seats and then disappeared toward the bar.

  “Hey,” I called after him. “That’s what you pay me for.”

  He chuckled, keeping his back to me as he strolled down the length of the cabin.

  Eventually, he came back with two foaming cappuccinos. He handed one to me, “Careful, it’s hot,” he said, keeping a firm grip on the other and lowering himself into the chair opposite me.

  “Thank you,” I smiled. “But you really should have let me do this.”

  “It’s going to be a long flight,” he responded dismissively. “You can make the other drinks.”

  We sat there for about an hour. It was almost exactly as it had been during the first few weeks of my working for him. He asked me questions about my childhood, my old job and my plans for the long-term future, and I was surprised to note that he’d remembered everything I’d told him before, even the inconsequential things.

  And oddly enough, I found it easy to be open and honest with him. I did not feel that I had to hold back or censor myself, for fear of judgment. Somehow, I instinctively knew that whatever I said, no matter how foolish it might seem, he would not laugh at me. Eventually, the conversation turned to past relationships, and the questions became more intimate.

  “You said when you were in college when you started to drift away from your Catholic upbringing, was that because of a boyfriend?” He did me the courtesy of phrasing it as a question, but there was a sense that my answer was an inevitable one.

  “Yes.”

  “And he was your first?” he continued, conversationally.

  “Yes,” I replied, nodding and ducking my eyes in embarrassment.

  “But it didn’t work out?”

  “Umm,” I muttered. “No, we were together for a while, but…I don’t know,” I shrugged. “Even though I knew what we’d done, what we were doing, wasn’t wrong, I still felt…”

  “Guilty?” Alex offered.

  “I
guess,” I replied. “Eventually, that guilt pushed us further and further apart.”

  “But, you enjoyed it?” Alex asked, propping his elbow on the arm of his plush chair and pressing his forefinger to his temple.

  “What?” I queried.

  “Sex,” he explained.

  Just the word caused my cheeks to color, but not through shame this time. “I…err…” I hesitated. “I enjoyed giving him pleasure.”

  “That’s not quite the same thing,” he responded, smiling softly.

  “No, I guess not,” I admitted quietly, evading his eyes.

  “And what about boyfriends since then?”

  With a shallow sigh, I shook my head. “There have only been a couple,” I told him honestly. “I think the problem was probably with me.”

  “The guilt?” he offered.

  “Yeah,” I breathed.

  Alex turned thoughtful and quiet, leaning back in his chair. I wondered if he was recalling the afternoon we’d made love and trying to figure out whether I’d felt guilty about that, too.

  “You can take the scarf off, if you want to,” he said, after a moment of companionable silence.

  “Huh?” I responded.

  “The scarf,” he repeated, pointing at his own neck. “You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to. I mean, it’s only me here and I’m pretty casual.” He was dressed much more informally than usual. Dark blue jeans were covering his legs, and a black button-down shirt was all he wore on his upper half.

  Without a word, I lifted the fingers of both hands to the knot at the side of my throat and unfastened it. When the silk was hanging loose either side of my neck, I pulled it free from me tossed it on the coffee table to my left. “Well,” I sighed, realizing his eyes had been captivated by my movement the whole time. Feeling a little embarrassed, I pushed up from the seat. “I’ll…umm, just go and get something to eat,” I said, walking quickly toward the small kitchen and bar.

  Alex must have moved stealthily, because I did not notice he’d also gotten out of his seat. I wasn’t aware of him following me until I felt his hands at my hips, giving me a slow but powerful shove, causing my lower abdomen to meet the edge of the bar.

  I released a surprised breath, but before I could turn my head, Alex had planted his face on my shoulder and was kissing his way up my throat.

  Mewling happily beneath his tender lips, I reached a hand back and slowly stroked at the nape of his neck.

  “Mel,” he mumbled, his words distorted because he refused to remove his mouth from my skin, “I need you.” As he spoke, his hands were already gripping the edge of my skirt.

  The hunger in his voice, that raspy guttural grunt of desire, sent spears of heat straight to my groin. “Take me,” I whispered, feeling his big, steely erection prodding my buttock.

  Unlike our other encounters, Alex did not take his time. He yanked my skirt up in a frenzy of need, and tugged the panties down with the same sexy voracity. His mouth continued to move over my neck, switching sides every so often, as he bent me further forward over the bar.

  I felt vulnerable with my bare ass sticking up and out for him, but, at the same time, there was a sense of safety. Alex was draped over me, and as I turned my face toward his, he claimed my lips sensually.

  Meanwhile, his hands disappeared from my body, and I heard the rasp of a zip, followed by the scratch of denim against denim. As he placed his fingers back on my naked hips and began to push himself forward, we both moaned into the other’s open mouth.

  Although I knew exactly what to expect this time, his size still caught me by surprise. I was slick with arousal, and he slid in easily enough. Still, my eyes widened as he pushed a little further, and still further, and then just a fraction more.

  By the time he stilled, his lips tore from mine, as he groaned and panted. I was mumbling nonsense and feeling as though he was about to cleave me in two. He was ruining me for any other man, of that I was certain.

  It seemed as if he had eight hands, they moved so quickly over me; stroking my back, my hips, my belly, then up to my breasts and cupping them through the blouse and bra I was wearing. As his fingers moved restlessly, apparently wanting all of my body at once, his hips began a gentle, shallow thrust. It was just the slightest movement, sliding easily back and forth.

  At first, I thought that soft motion wasn’t having any effect on me, but I quickly realized it was. In its own subtle way, it was fanning the flames. The pleasure was building gradually, making me sweaty, breathless and fidgety. As I writhed beneath him, gripping the far edge of the bar with both hands, I waited impatiently for him to give me what I needed. “Alex,” I whimpered, pressing my burning cheek to the cool surface of the countertop. The action made my buttocks press more firmly into his hips and changed the angle of his entry. Now, as he carefully slipped leisurely to and fro, I felt his manhood press against the front wall of my sex. An intense flood of warmth shot through me, and I was unable to suppress the languid moan that started at the very bottom of my lungs.

  He leaned right over me, his lips caressing the back of my neck and then the scalding cheek that was available to him. “Tell me what you want,” he whispered, his breath tickling my ear and making me squirm.

  Closing my eyes, bright spots danced in front of the lids. “Alex, please,” I muttered, my lower half bucking unsuccessfully against his strong frame.

  “Say it,” he urged softly. “Tell me.”

  “Urgh,” I groaned, every muscle rigid with tension. “Harder,” I managed to whisper on a heavy exhalation. “Faster,” I added, panting.

  The weight and warmth of Alex’s upper body quickly left my back, and his hands took a secure grasp of my waist. He breathed a deep, masculine growl as his smooth hardness withdrew almost entirely from me.

  Open-mouthed, I mewled with shallow heaves of air. And suddenly, he was thrusting forward, burying himself within my body, his member forcing its way aggressively until it was swallowed up to the hilt. I cried out, my head lifting from the bar as I released a licentious scream of pleasure. The entire length of my vagina throbbed and contracted with the hammering of my heart. It sent waves of pleasure through my core and rushing to every extremity.

  Alex’s strangled breathing was coming fast and hard, his fingers tensing and gripping me tighter still. “Is that what you wanted?” he asked, his voice throaty.

  “Ye…yes!” I squealed, trembling violently. “More,” I begged.

  He didn’t need to be asked. He was already pulling his hips back. As he slammed back into me, the soft, domed head of his manhood rubbed violently against my front wall and I wantonly screamed, arching my back.

  Panting and oblivious to anything except the sensations of our bodies, we continued to move in rhythm. Using my hands to push myself away from the bar, I met each of his thrusts with a reversed one of my own. Soon, the motions were frenzied, frantic; spiraling out of control as we breathlessly drove each other higher and higher.

  Finally, with an eruption of intense heat that seemed to explode both in my head and between my legs simultaneously, I parted my lips and gripped the bar as though my life depended on it.

  Alex’s grunts had taken on a different quality and, as my climax hit, he gave one more powerful drive of his hips and groaned in tense, agonizing pleasure.

  My muscles flexing tightly seemed to milk his seed from him, his warmth injecting into me with strong pulses of his shaft.

  “Oh, God,” he muttered, the tension beginning to leave his limbs as his body continued to spasm within mine. It was weaker than before, but it was several seconds before he was completely spent.

  “Argh,” I moaned happily, flopping forward on the counter. This was sex like I’d never known. I adored the way he made love to me before; I liked the fact he was capable of being gentle, and had allowed me control the first time he entered me. However, there was something infinitely sexier about this aggressive side of him. This time, we hadn’t made love; we’d fucked. And, although t
hat was something I’d thought I never wanted, I realized just how mistaken I’d been.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, one hand sweeping around my hip to my belly and then creeping between my legs.

  I giggled quietly, my head feeling much too heavy to lift. “Better than okay,” I told him softly. “Much better.”

  Chapter Four

  When we landed in Paris several hours later, we were both cleaned up, calmer, and looked, to all the world, as if nothing had happened. Of course, it didn’t seem that way to the two of us. I was incapable of keeping my eyes off him for long, and it seemed he was suffering from a similar problem.

  He gestured for me to exit the plane first and I found a car waiting for us. Alex thanked the driver and took the keys from him, inviting me to jump in the front passenger seat.

  As he drove the twenty minutes or so to the hotel, he kept one hand on my thigh, lazily drawing patterns with the pads of his fingers. “Do you feel guilty now?” he asked out of nowhere.

  “No,” I replied, without having to give the question much thought.

  “Honest?” he probed.

  “Honest,” I confirmed, smiling at him. “It feels different with you. I’m different with you,” I added, contemplatively.

  “Good,” he grinned.

  We stayed at La Tremoille, the most luxurious hotel I’d ever set foot in. I felt somewhat out of place as we walked into the large, high-ceilinged lobby. I felt even more out of place, when we were led to the lavish one-bedroom suite, which was larger than the apartment I’d had in New York. With light gray carpet throughout, there was a massive living room with circular table by the floor-to-ceiling windows, three armchairs, a sofa, a coffee table, and a massive flat-screen television above a fireplace.

  Next door was a queen-size bed with blindingly white bedding, yet another chair and, just in case, another television. Then, there was the bathroom with corner tub, separate shower cubicle, and at least a dozen big, fluffy red towels on two racks.