But then my eyes squinted because the name Charlie Childs sounded a little familiar. Hmmm. Taking out my phone, I did a quick search and my eyes widened. Seemed that Charlie Childs was a cosmetics mogul. He ran a billion dollar conglomerate selling everything from nail polish remover to high end perfume. Man, this guy was rolling in dough.
And from the pictures on my phone, he was gorgeous too. Tall, dark and handsome with movie-star good looks, always a gorgeous woman or two hanging off his arm. The girls were always svelte and perfectly made up, not a hair out of place. Quite the contrast to my own plump form and unruly curls.
But right. This was a job. Real-life, not the movies.
And as steps sounded, I pulled myself upright with a smile to greet my new passenger. And suddenly Mr. Childs loomed in the entryway, massive and huge. Unlike Mr. Dawson, he actually acknowledged my presence.
“Hello,” came that deep growl, blue eyes taking in everything in half a second. Oh god, how many beautiful women he must encounter in his job every day? Top models, Oscar-winning actresses, all dying to promote his products.
But somehow that gaze was warm and non-judgmental.
“I’ll show myself to my seat,” he said with a grin. “No one on this ride but me.”
I nodded quickly.
“Of course Mr. Childs,” was my stammer. “I’ll be by momentarily with your nuts and champagne.”
And once we leveled out on our way to Chicago, my hands sprang to work. Out came the small dish of nuts and the tall flute of champagne. Was Mr. Childs going to ask that I serve the almonds on my breasts, like Mr. Dawson? Oh god, oh god. My face flushed, breasts heaving a bit. Because I was ready if he asked. This man was so dark and gorgeous, that anything was possible.
And wobbling a little in my high heels, I made my way down the aisle.
“Here you go sir,” was my murmur, leaning over to place the welcome tray on his table. “Welcome aboard, Mr. Childs. I’m Joanie and I’ll be your flight attendant for this trip. I’ve brought you warm nuts, a bit of bubbly, and the day’s newspaper.”
The dark man leaned back, surveying my form from the jaunty cap on my head to the polished navy blue stilettos.
“Thank you,” was his reply. “Have you been with us long?” he asked.
“No sir,” came my dulcet voice. “Just since yesterday.”
“Ah, yesterday,” rumbled the man, a twinkle in those blue eyes. “Mr. Dawson sang your praises,” he added. “Damien couldn’t have said better things.”
I flushed.
“You-you know Mr. Dawson?” came my low voice. “I didn’t realize.”
Charlie Childs smiled so that his eyes crinkled at the corners, those white teeth perfect.
“We all know each other,” he said smoothly. “Elite Air was created by a group of us. Guys who wanted to fly private all the time. So we pitched in the for the expense, sharing the costs and benefits. A plane like this goes for fifty g’s,” he said with a wicked smile.
Fifty g’s?
That meant fifty million right? Not fifty thousand?
That smile grew wider, Mr. Childs reading my mind.
“That’s right, sweetheart. A plane like this costs fifty million dollars, so we split the price tag. Not that I don’t have my own.”
My mouth dropped open once more.
“You-you have your own plane, in addition to this one?”
The alpha threw his head back and laughed.
“Oh yeah. It’s good to have back-up you know? If one isn’t available for whatever reason, I can always turn to my spare.”
I swallowed heavily again. The billionaire talked about planes like other people talk about cars. Except this was a fifty million dollar toy, not exactly something you park in your garage.
“I see,” was my low murmur. “I see.”
And Mr. Childs smiled again.
“From your encounter with Damien yesterday, he said you’re very flexible.”
My head snapped up.
“I’m sorry?” was my gasp. “Wh-what does that mean?”
“It means that you’re a good girl,” Mr. Childs rumbled. “Because I like to see everything.”
“Everything?” I echoed in a whisper.
“Everything,” he said silkily. “Now everything off.”
I stood stock still for a moment, not believing my ears. But as those blue eyes roved over my form, my insides went hot and loose once more, nipples pebbling as a low ache settled in my belly. Because we were gearing up for round two, and suddenly I wanted it.
“Everything,” Mr. Childs rasped once more. “Now.”
And with that, my hand went to the navy blue hat.
“No not that,” he corrected. “Let’s leave your hat and heels on. But take everything else off,” that deep voice commanded.
And slowly, I obeyed. The zip on the back of my dress slithered down, material pooling at my ankles. Like before, I had on no bra, so my girls immediately burst free, creamy with pink tips. But my hands paused at my hips, toying with the sides of the little g-string.
“Everything sir?” I whispered. “Everything?”
At the moment, I wore nothing but the hat and high heels, plus this tiny scrap of lace over my secret spot.
Mr. Childs was relentless.
“Take it off, sweetheart,” he commanded. “I like my girls bare.”
And what could I do? Slowly, my fingers rolled the fabric over my hips and down my thighs. But that’s when things got nasty. Because as the material descended, a long strand of pussy cum connected the crotch of the panties to my cunt, evidence of my need.
“Oh!” I gasped, cheeks flushing red. “Oh!”
But Mr. Childs was on it. With one big finger he leaned forwards and broke the strand, lifting it to his lips.
“Tastes good, sweetheart. I’m glad you want me just as much as I want you.”
Because by now, his cock was out. Oh yeah, that massive fuckrod stood straight at attention, pointing my way. And my pussy melted at the sight, more goo dripping out, a rivulet sliding hotly down one thigh.
“Yes,” I whispered, hungry brown eyes meeting his. “Yes.”
But Mr. Childs isn’t a guy that can be rushed.
“Champagne,” he commanded.
What? What was I supposed to do? But with trembling fingers, I handed him the flute, every nerve waiting with anticipation.
“Come here, sweetheart,” he beckoned. I moved closer to him, the space between us disappearing.
“Closer,” he rasped again. And this time, I moved even closer, so that my nude, lush form was merely inches from that big body seated in the white leather chair.
The dark man smiled at me then.
“I can smell your cunt,” he rasped. “It’s dying for dick. But sweetheart, I’m gonna make you feel good another way. You think you can handle it? You think this curvy bod can take what I’m about to give?”
Wordlessly, I nodded, every nerve quivering, juice streaming down my thighs now.
“Yes, Mr. Childs,” I whispered obediently. “Yes, I’ll try.”
“Good,” he ground out. “Because I want to suckle this sweet, meaty cunt flavored with champagne.”
And dipping his fingers into the flute, he lifted them, dripping with golden fizz. And then slowly, he leaned forwards to paint the champagne over my clit, stroking my throbbing nub and making circles around the pleasure point.”
“Oh!” I gasped, knees going weak. My hands gripped the back of his chair to stay upright. “Oh god!”
“That’s it,” Mr. Childs rasped, his eyes never leaving my juicing pussy. “That’s it sweetheart.”
And he dipped his finger in again, this time painting the golden liquid all over my folds. He stroked my outer labia, getting them soaking, before using two fingers to pull my lips apart, showing the gleaming ruby red within.
“So beautiful,” he breathed approvingly. “You’re sopping wet baby.”
Because of course I was. I was standing before
a gorgeous billionaire, letting him play with my cunt. Not only that, but he was painting my private parts with champagne, smoothing fizzy all over my sensitive lips, and now, even into my interior.
“Oh,” I moaned, throwing my head back, white knuckles gripping the leather seat tighter. “Oh god, I’m gonna come.”
“Not yet,” he rasped. “Because we’re not even halfway there yet.”
And the man leaned forward then, placing his tongue against my sensitive spot. Slyly, those lips nibbled at my clit, jolts of pleasure going straight from pussy to spine, making me stiffen slightly.
“Oh!” came my helpless mewl. “Oh oh!”
“That’s right,” Mr. Childs murmured from between my folds. “I’m gonna eat this all up.”
And with that, he began in earnest. The alpha suckled my clit before biting at it, and then running circles around the stiff nub. And then he held my folds open and traced every sensitive crevice, every beautiful crease of my creaming pussy.
“Oh!” I shrieked this time. “Oh god!”
And it was so good that I almost fainted. But Mr. Childs gave no quarter. Because he kept kissing and licking and slurping, tasting my insides as female cream mixed with the champagne covering his mouth.
“Tastes good,” he muttered into my pussy. “Tastes real good.”
I thought I’d burst at that very moment. But then the man lifted his dark head, blue eyes gleaming.
“You know what would make this taste even better?”
I couldn’t’ answer, my breath coming in labored pants. He merely smiled again, chin slick with my wetness.
“Your puss would taste even better if there was some cum in the mix. Champagne and cum. You think you can handle that?”
And wordlessly, I’d stared at him, the heaving of my breasts my only answer. Because was this really going to happen? How would it work?
But Mr. Childs has all the answers. Reaching one big hand down, he stroked his cock slowly, easing out a heavy trickle of pre-cum. And then with the wetness on his hands, he painted my clit again, making me mewl and arch my back with pleasure.
“Oh!” was my helpless cry, clit so hard and ready, standing stiffly straight up. “Oh!”
The alpha rasped, eyes on his handiwork.
“Yeah, it’s beautiful like this,” was his harsh growl. “Your clit slick and smooth with a double coating of champagne and cum.”
And in one swoop, he was on it again, biting and sucking at my sweetest spot, drinking my cream mixed in with his potent juices.
“Oh!” came my helpless cry. “Oh oh OH!”
Because I’m a virgin. I’ve never been with a man in the biblical sense. My hymen’s still there, deep inside and secret. But Mr. Dawson and Mr. Childs didn’t know, and they were bringing me to new heights. I squealed, pussy bursting on the alpha’s lips.
“Oh!” came my gasp. “Oh god oh god oh god!”
The fall of cream was almost embarrassing. So much came rushing from my hole that it rivaled a man’s ejaculation, the river wild and wet. But Mr. Child’s was on it. He drank every last drop, lapping at my folds, forcing his tongue into a point and slipping it up my dripping canal.
“Oh!” I screamed again. “Oh oh!”
And something about the hot situation, the nastiness of what we were doing sent him over the edge. Because with a muffled roar into my pussy, the billionaire came as well.
That cock shivered in the air, trembling, before erupting with giant spurts.
“FUCK!” he shouted into my sweetly creaming cunt. “Fuck fuck fuck!”
And the semen was so beautiful. It was a waterfall, pulsing two feet into the air, landing on my breasts, my tummy, not to mention the chair, tabletop, and his immaculate suit. We were literally covered in man milk, hot jizz splattered everywhere.
But Mr. Childs doesn’t waste. Because once the pulsing subsided somewhat, he pulled back to take a look at my cum-splattered form.
“So beautiful,” was his murmur. “Absolutely gorgeous.”
And then the dark man did something that made the air seize in my lungs, senses going wild. Because reaching a big hand up, he scooped up some semen from my breast and tummy, the goopy white sticky and tacky between his fingers. And then the dark man caressed my intimate folds, rubbing virile baby batter into every crevice, even pushing it into my sweetly steaming hole.
“Oh,” was my sensuous murmur. “Oh god.”
The man glanced up at me, blue eyes wicked.
“You like that don’t you?” he rasped. “This slutty cunt likes getting the sperm rubbed in.”
And with his words, I came again. It wasn’t a huge one this time, just a small secondary explosion, creamy and fluid. But it was an orgasm all the same because Mr. Childs had touched something deep inside, literally and figuratively.
Yes, his fingers were stroking my sweetly steaming puss, making me feel good.
But it was more his words. Because I’m a slut. I’m letting a billionaire, a man I don’t know, touch me intimately. I’m even letting him push his semen into my most private spot, the thrill of a virile man’s seed throwing me over the edge. I wanted that sperm. I wanted the hot goopy white to coat my most intimate parts.
And crying out, I called his name then.
“Yes Charlie,” was my breathless gasp, body shaking as he stroked even more. “Yes.”
The billionaire caught my lips with his, pulling my head down even as his fingers glided over my private space, toying lightly with my hole.
“That’s it,” he whispered. “That’s it, pretty baby. Enjoy.”
And I collapsed then. My curvy form landed in his lap as we kissed, mouths fused, my naked form coated with his cum.
“Oh,” I murmured, the heady sensation overwhelming my senses. Somehow, our liplock was so meaningful even though I’d exchanged not ten words with this man. It thrilled my soul, the alpha breathing life into my form.
“That’s it,” he murmured once more against my lips. “You belong to us now.”
And I mewed my assent, even if I didn’t understand the words. Because who was us? What did “belonging” mean? All I knew was the right here, right now, splattered in a billionaire’s cum as he touched my secret spaces, our breaths mingling as we enjoyed one another.
But the mystery grew deeper.
Because I was leaving tomorrow, on another leg to Atlanta.
What would happen then?
And as the billionaire teased my hole lightly, he murmured into my ear.
“Remember me,” were his words, thumb skating over my clit. “Remember.”
And I sighed into his arms, curvy form undulating.
Because how could I forget?
This was the adventure of a lifetime … and I’d never be the same again.
CHAPTER THREE
Aaron
My phone rang just as my foot stepped onto the metal rung. I grabbed my twin brother’s arm.
“Yo,” came my grunt. “Wait up. Damien’s on the line. Damien, my bro,” I boomed. “You’re on speaker. Andrew’s here with me.”
Because Andrew’s my identical twin. We’ve done everything together for years now. Played hockey when we were young. Roommates at college even. And finally, our empire. Oh yeah, we have a multi-billion dollar business called Aerodynamix, which is a holding corp. That means Aerodynamix owns other corporations, everything from dog food manufacturers to insurance. So yeah, Andrew and I have been called the new Warren Buffet, even if we didn’t live in Omaha.
“What up?” grunted Andrew, somewhat impatient. “About to board.”
But Damien Dawson was just as terse.
“She’s a good one,” his voice rasped, the connection a little crackly. “Real good. Treat her well, you’ll enjoy it.”
And with that the receiver clicked.
Andrew and I shared a surprised look. Because a thumbs-up from Damien is the equivalent of getting a pardon from the Pope after committing adultery. Man, the girl had to be something if our b
uddy had decided to call.
But hey, Damien is Damien. And we get it. Being CEO can be tedious. Lots of paperwork to review, lots of decisions to make. And the amount of travel would drive a sane person nuts.
So Elite Airlines was created by a group of my buddies in order to make the flights a little more enjoyable. Yes, there’s wi-fi on board. Yes, there’s a comfortable bed for red-eyes. Yes, there are good snacks and even better drinks, plenty of top shelf alcohol. It’s worth it for sure. Because when you’re in the air as much as us, who wants to go through airport security and breathe recycled air with the masses? Fuck no.
So yeah, Elite Airlines was formed by a group of billionaire CEOs. It aims to provide everything a man night need on a flight, including specific types of on-board entertainment.
Because we screen our stewardesses carefully. Or more accurately, we pay Helena to do the screening, with an eye towards a couple things.
Curves everywhere.
Sweet smiles.
And a willingness to serve.
Oh yeah, taking a ride aboard Elite Air is the perfect end to a long day of boring meetings and factory inspections. It was worth it hands down.
Small Town Secrets: A Forbidden Romance Page 25