by Davis, Carla
Once we’d been given the tour and Alex tipped the porter who’d carried our bags, I stared at him with wide eyes.
“It’s nice, huh?” he asked, stroking a casual hand through his mahogany hair.
“Uh, yeah,” I nodded. “It’s very nice.”
Standing near the door, he slipped his hands into his pockets. “So, you hungry?”
I remained near the threshold of the bedroom, leaning against the doorframe. “Not right now,” I responded.
“You want to see some of the city?” he suggested.
“Not right now,” I repeated.
“Okay,” he smiled. “Then what do you want to do right now?”
“Come here,” I requested, holding out my hand for him.
His grin broadened and for a moment, it looked as though he might insist I come to him instead. However, the expression faded and he tugged his hands free of his pants as he walked across the living room. When he was within arm’s reach, he offered me his hand and I slipped my slender fingers through his.
“I want you to not make me feel guilty again,” I whispered, looking up at him with a small, hopeful smile.
Tilting his face down to mine, he cupped my cheek in his free hand. “You’re so beautiful,” he mumbled. Gently, he pressed his lips to mine, before coaxing me slowly back into the bedroom.
It wasn’t long until we were both naked. I was on my back in the middle of the large, soft bed and Alex was sliding between my parted thighs. He entered me smoothly, his lips kissing me tenderly as he glided forward until his hips struck mine.
It was not as frantic and bestial as our joining on the plane. The heat of desperation had been tempered slightly, but there was passion and intensity of a different kind. It was not the need to reach climax that motivated Alex, it was the need to express something. Exactly what that was, I was unable to say.
Sliding my feet up toward my buttocks, I felt the large head of his shaft bump my cervix. “Ugh, so big,” I mumbled into his mouth, our tongues separated momentarily.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, lifting his face and pulling his hips back. “Did I hurt you?”
“No,” I assured him, with eyes that tried to focus on him, but found it difficult to fix on anything. “No,” I repeated, smiling.
He still looked concerned, his brow knitted slightly.
Chuckling, I lifted my hands to his face and took it in both hands. “I love it when you’re deep inside me,” I told him softly, the fingers of my right hand smoothing over his cheek and curling around the back of his head. Tugging him down to me, I kissed him, sucking his lower lip into my mouth. Slowly releasing it, I grinned at him. “I love your big, hard cock filling me,” I added, in a sultry whisper, surprising myself that I could use the word ‘cock’ and not blush. In fact, I was surprised I could use the word ‘cock’ at all.
He seemed a little taken aback by it, too. However, he was apparently too turned on by it to dwell over it for any length of time. His lower half burst into motion once again, impaling me with the firm, strong stokes that made me want to scream with ecstasy though I bit down on my lip, concerned that people in the next room would hear.
“Say it again,” he panted, his eyes staring down at me as his upper half hovered above, undulated back and forth.
“Ugh,” I moaned, tilting my hips to achieve more pressure on my clitoris. “Alex,” I whimpered. “I love your cock,” I cried, the quakes of climax causing me to lose control of my limbs.
“Ugh, yeah,” he growled, slamming into me with renewed vigor. “Mel,” he panted, his entire body turning rigid. “I love…” he groaned. “I love…” Hips jerking uncontrollably, he released his orgasm into me. “I love you,” he whispered, his face flopping forward until his forehead was resting on mine.
It was several moments before I released what he’d said and, even then, I couldn’t be sure whether he’d meant it or had intended to say something else. By the time, I plucked up the courage to ask him, he was easing himself off me and suggesting that we go out to eat. By that point, it seemed the opportune moment to mention it had passed. Besides, if he hadn’t meant it or I’d misheard him, I was happier not knowing.
That afternoon, Alex took me to lunch at a small bistro just around the corner from the hotel. We sat outside, sipping on large glasses of fruity red wine. He tugged his chair close to mine so that his thick thigh was brushing against my leg. We chatted, unable to stop smiling at each other and, I think, both a little drunk on post-orgasmic euphoria.
“Still worried that I don’t respect you?” he asked, the fingers of his right hand lifting to my face and sweeping the loose hair away from my cheek.
“I guess not,” I replied, mirroring the lazy smile I found gazing at me. “But…” I added thoughtfully.
“Mel,” he responded as if sensing the cause of my hesitancy. “I don’t want people that we work with to think that this is just some fling…or worse,” he muttered the last two words, no doubt thinking of what Nathan had said earlier in the week. “Because you mean so much more to me than that. And I really don’t want to sneak around as if we’re doing something wrong. So, I promise, we will work something out.”
“I don’t care what other people think,” I assured him, reaching under the table and stroking his muscular thigh with my hand. “As long as I know what you think, that’s all that matters.”
“Right,” he agreed, grinning. “And I think-”
A shrill voice cut through our private, peaceful moment. “Alex?”
Tearing his eyes from me, his head followed the call of his name and landed on a tall woman with a shoulder-length bob of brunette hair. She was dressed in a red cocktail dress, bosom almost bursting free of it and long legs stretching out for what seemed like forever. She wore large sunglasses, which she was holding perched on her head so she could get a better view of the man by my side.
“Katherine,” Alex replied, surprise and discomfort evident in his face.
“I didn’t know you were planning a trip to Europe,” she stated in her refined, but very nasal, accent. I thought a detected a little Bronx that no amount of polish could obliterate.
“Business,” Alex shrugged,
“Yes,” she smiled, her serpentine eyes moving swiftly to me, “I can see that.”
“Umm, Melissa, this is Katherine,” Alex murmured, gesturing between the two of us. “Katherine, this is Melissa.”
“Hi,” I greeted, awkwardly.
“Hmm,” she nodded in amusement.
“Is Fin with you?” Alex asked.
Finally, he’d given me the context I had needed. However, the realization of who this woman was did not come with any pleasant emotion. His ex-wife, the woman who had given him a son. Before, she’d been faceless, nameless; a shadow. Now, she was flesh and bone, and very attractive flesh and bone at that. The thought that he’d made love to her caused a stab of jealousy to sear at the pit of my stomach.
“I’m sorry, Alex is so rude,” Katherine sighed, still facing me and ignoring his question. “I’m sure you have no idea who I am. I’m Mrs. Race, his wife.”
“Ex-wife,” I responded, unable to prevent the venom with which I spat the words.
Her ruby red lips opened in a predatory smile. She glanced between Alex and me before settling on him. “Is that what you told her?” Laughing, she slipped the glasses from her head and placed them back on her nose. “Oh, no, no, honey,” she insisted. “Alex and I are still very much married.”
Snapping my face to Alex, I found him staring pensively at the surface of the table. Saying nothing, I begged him to set her straight; to tell me that she was lying. However, he remained silent and, as the seconds ticked by, it became clear that she hadn’t lied.
“Well,” she joyfully sighed. “I’ll leave you two to your meal.” Her heels clipping on cobbled stones, she strode down the street.
“Oh, God,” I whispered, the reality beginning to seep in. “Oh, God,” I repeated a little louder. “You lie
d to me,” I hissed.
“No, I didn’t,” he said, turning to face me with pleading eyes. “I didn’t lie to you.”
“Are you still married to her?” I demanded.
He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. Inhaling deeply, he tried once more. “Yes,” he replied, his eyes unblinking. “Technically,” he stressed, “we are still married. But it is over, Mel.”
“I can’t believe this,” I muttered, pushing my chair out with a loud scrape and jumping to my feet. “I trusted you,” I ranted. “I’ve given more of myself to you than anybody else, and, the whole time, you’ve been married.” The feeling of betrayal was like a hot poker stuffed right through my heart. I had opened up to him, allowed him to see sides of me no other man had ever seen. I’d felt secure enough with him to let go and, for the first time, express myself sexually. But it hadn’t been the wonderful, emotional, almost spiritual experience I’d imagined it to be. It had been nothing more than a dirty work affair.
“Where are you going?” he asked, snatching hold of my wrist. “Melissa, you have to listen to me.”
“No,” I replied, pulling my hand angrily free from him while tears I refused to let him see pricked the back of my eyes. “I don’t want to listen. I can’t be near you right now.” I bolted from the table, walking quickly to the end of the street and back toward the hotel.
All the way, I sensed Alex following me and knew that he wasn’t going to accept my refusal to talk. Inevitably, he would catch up with me in the room. With those handsome eyes, I knew how easy it would be for him to charm be back into his bed. I could not allow that to happen. I may have been willing to abandon many things my religious upbringing instilled in me, but my moral values (regardless or religion) simply could not allow me to be the ‘other woman’.
Steeling myself, I was determined not to let anything he said…or did soften my rage toward him.
To be continued…
Flown By The Billionaire III
By
Carla Davis
Prologue
After being laid off from her job in finance, Melissa Cannagh, was forced to leave her New York apartment and move back in with her parents. The sleepy Connecticut town of her childhood and the overbearing attitude of her mom and dad soon became too much for Melissa – and she determined to take any job that will get her back on her feet.
However, the job she was eventually offered is one she had not envisaged herself doing and had no experience in: cabin crew for a private jet. And to complicate her life, she found herself attracted to Alex Race, the handsome billionaire who is her new employer.
Having had a strict Catholic upbringing, Melissa considers herself relatively inexperienced when it comes to sex and relationships. Although she no longer follows the religion, years of brainwashing led her to find physical intimacy to be a guilt-ridden experience with all three of her past boyfriends. But as she’s drawn ever more closely to Alex Race, she feels frenzied desires she has never known before. Even though he attempts to keep a professional distance from the young woman, the tension between them inevitably bursts in a passionate encounter during one of the flights.
Despite her concerns that Alex Race sees her as little more than an executive toy, Melissa knows she’s falling hard and tries to avoid him in the hopes of protecting her heart. However, when her boss asks her to accompany him on a business trip to Paris, her yearning to revisit the sensations he awakened in her is too much to bear.
The trip starts well; Alex is affectionate as well as passionate. Melissa realizes she’s opening herself to him in a way she never intended, and has never done with any other man. She even begins to let herself believe that he cares as much for her as she does for him.
But one afternoon at a small Parisian bistro, a beautiful woman approaches the pair and introduces herself as Alex’s wife.
Chapter One
Scorching unshed tears blurred my vision as I all but ran back to the La Tremoille. Nausea rolled through me in lurching waves, as I thought about Alex touching his wife in the same way he’d touched me. Most of all, the question beating at my brain and making me want to stop and throw up right there in the street was: how stupid could I have been?
Did I really think, even for a moment, that someone like Alex Race could be interested, truly interested, in me? No, I was a plaything to him. Perhaps after I’d told him about attending a Catholic school, and not losing my virginity until my junior year of college, he thought me prudish or frigid and perceived it as a challenge. Well, then he must be very proud of himself. He’d had me shaking with desire, begging for more and screaming in orgasm. How flattering for his ego to know that I’d never been that way with any other man.
In my frantic, angry, self-loathing state, I did not think about the fact I hadn’t got a room key. It wasn’t until I reached the suite and stared at the stupid card-scanning lock that I realized I should have stopped at reception.
“Damn it,” I muttered, kicking the door with my black, flat-heeled pump and immediately regretting it. Pain shot through my uncushioned foot and all the way up to the ankle. As one salty droplet left my eye and skated down my cheek, I spun from the door. However, I didn’t stride back down the corridor as I had intended.
Alex stood no more than eight feet away, his features somber and anguished.
“Don’t bother,” I stated, my voice cracking. “I don’t want to hear anything you have to say.”
He came nearer, sliding a hand into his pocket and retrieving the key. “I...” he mumbled, his rich eyes staring at me as though I had somehow harmed him.
The fact that he dared feel wounded made me all the more furious. How did the man have the gall to look at me like that?
“You lied to me,” I told him, the words pushed out in a harsh whisper. “You,” I emphasized, “lied to me. And nothing you can say now will change that.”
His strong jaw dipped and he stared at the carpet. “You’re right,” he eventually sighed. Suddenly, his head rose and he nodded. “But if you would just let me explain,” he added.
“I don’t want-” I began, shaking my head vehemently. My insistence was halted by the sound of the elevator doors. I swiveled toward the suite, hiding my tear-streaked face, as two middle-aged women stepped out of the car and passed us. Although emotions were churning passionately, shame and embarrassment still prevented me from drawing attention to myself.
Without a word, Alex stepped forward. His arm brushed my shoulder, causing me to leap back, as he stretched across me and stuck the card key in the door. The tiny light blinking green, he pushed the door open and gestured for me to enter.
Not looking up, I strode quickly across the threshold. Once in the room, my feet didn’t slow. I scurried through the living room to the bedroom, scooped up the suitcase I’d left on the floor, and tossed it on the bed. My fingers reached out to unclasp the case, but my eyes were suddenly captivated by the bed and its sheets, which were creased and strewn haphazardly over the mattress. White hot rage filled me and I felt the color drain from my face, as the memory of what we’d done just two hours previously stabbed me in the chest. That time, he’d even told me he loved me. Another lie, no doubt.
Briefly, I closed my eyes, and the words resonated in my head. His strangled voice muttering, ‘I love you’, as his climax spilled warmth into me. Oh, God. That was something else. I hadn’t just been having sex with a married man. I’d been having unprotected sex with a married man. If he’d lied to me, then maybe he’d done the same to other women. He could have been having multiple affairs.
“How many?” I mumbled, my eyes still fixed to the mattress.
Alex was standing by the bedroom door. I had felt his presence and the heat of his eyes, but he’d remained silent until then. “What?”
“How many others?” I asked, my face snapping around to his.
“Others?” he muttered, shaking his head.
“How many other ‘other women’ have there been?” I asked hars
hly, annoyed that he didn’t understand.
His chest moved with a deep inhalation. “There isn’t anyone else,” he insisted. “You’re the only one.”
“Hmm,” I muttered sarcastically. Turning my head away, I focused once more on the suitcase, unzipping it quickly. “Isn’t that the line you give your wife?”
“Mel,” he softly uttered. “Look, I understand if you want to leave and I won’t stop you, but you’ve got to listen to me. Katherine and I have been separated for nearly six months.”
His words were penetrating on some level, but as I stalked to the dresser, yanking at the clothes I’d placed there not half an hour before, I tried to look as though I wasn’t listening.
“The divorce has been filed. It’s taking forever to iron out the details; she’s been dragging it out and...”
“Maybe she’s dragging it out because she doesn’t really want a divorce,” I pointed out, dumping an armful of clothes into the case, uncaring that they were a messy heap.
“No, she’s trying to get every cent she can, and she’s trying to keep my son from me,” he responded, suddenly not as calm as he had been.
“It doesn’t alter the fact that you’re still married,” I said, striding back to the dresser for my underwear.
“Yeah,” he admitted quietly. “But in every way that matters, Katherine and I aren’t married,” he added. “We don’t love each other, we don’t live together, we haven’t seen each other outside a lawyer’s office for months, and we haven’t slept together in even longer than that.”
I didn’t know whether to believe him or not. There was no proof, except that his wife, although frosty toward me, didn’t seem surprised to see Alex with another woman. The fact that they were separated was, I suspected, true. What about the rest? Lots of couples still see each and still have sex despite being separated. However, this was not something I had any way of knowing for sure, so decided not to debate the potential truthfulness of his statement. Instead, I stuck to the thing I did know. “But you are still married,” I repeated, tossing the delicate cotton into the bag as carelessly as the rest of my clothes.