by Helena Vera
The galley is always stocked with food. It is basically a smaller version of a kitchen with a stove top, microwave, kettle, sink and dishwasher. I find a can of chicken soup. Perfect. Usually I have a private air hostess who prepares meals when I’m traveling long distance. Otherwise I make myself easy meals or wait until I land to get something to eat.
I ladle the soup into a small bowl knowing it is imperative for her to eat but being sick she probably wouldn’t eat much. Placing the bowl onto a tray, along with a spoon, I return to find her body still cooler than when I’d initially noticed her temperature.
“Joyce, let’s get some food into your stomach,” I encourage her to sit up in the bed and perch beside her on the edge.
“I’m not hungry,” she protests.
“You are. You just don’t know it yet because you’re feeling sick. Come on. You need food to keep your energy up. That’s a good girl,” I encourage her when she allows me to spoon soup into her mouth. “Come on, eat some more.”
I keep encouraging her until she’s eaten most of the content then I listen when she says she doesn’t want anymore. I give her the painkillers to take and wipe her down again with tap water. When I finish cleaning up in the galley and return to her, she is barely warm and sleeping.
I stand there for a very long time watching her sleep and a feeling so intense came over me that I’m poleaxed by the force of it. I know in that minute there was no way I would let her walk away from me. Not after today. Not after my hands have bathed her body, chasing away her fever. Not after holding her while she threw up.
I sit in the La-Z-Boy beside the bed, determined to keep vigil and ensure her fever doesn’t get more intense again before we land. I feel a fierce protective instinct over her.
Joyce belongs to me.
10
CHAPTER
“Prepare for landing.”
My eyes fly open at the unfamiliar nasal voice over the speakers. Confused, I sit up in the bed, the sudden movement making me feel a little lightheaded. I try to figure out where I am but can’t remember until I spot Axel, blinking the sleep from his eyes. He must have woken too by the voice of the pilot.
Everything comes to me then, of Axel holding me while I throw up, him stripping off my dress and giving me a sponge bath, feeding me. I clutch the covers to my chin, conscious that I am still semi-nude. I might have not minded, caught up in the throes of illness but now I am not feeling so ill anymore, I am self-conscious.
“We’re about to land,” Axel murmur, running a hand over his face and through his hair to chase the sleep away. “How are you feeling now?”
“Better,” I reply, looking everywhere but at him. “Thank you for taking care of me.”
“Anytime. Come on, rules indicate we are buckled down for landing. We’ve got a few minutes so you’ll have time to get dressed.
Before I can say anything, he plucks my dress from the bed beside me and drop it over my head. I feel like a child, holding the sheet alternatively with one hand while poking the other through the arm holes in the dress. He pulls the material down and urge me to stand which I do so the dress pool down my waist but not before he catches a glimpse of my black bikini briefs.
“You can get your shoes on when we’re seated” he tells me and with a hand at my back guides me back to the front of the jet where we take the seats we had occupied earlier. We buckle up and just in time too as the pilot made the final descent. The landing is smooth and soon we stop.
“Here, let me do this for you.”
I frown at him as he lifts first one foot, placing it in his lap and putting on that shoe before repeating the action with my other foot. Is this some kind of ploy of his? What is he aiming for in being so nice to me all of a sudden? This is the side he had shown to my grandmother and her friends but not a side he once shew to me until I was ill.
At least he wasn’t completely heartless.
“Come on, there’s a limo waiting for us,” he told me and prods me to my feet.
“My suitcases,” I protest.
“Will be taken care of,” he answers and guides me to the exit where the pilot is standing and smiling. The man tips his hat and wishes us a good day and I stammer a thank you before lengthening my strides to try and keep up with Axel.
I realize we aren’t using the public section of the airport. A black limousine is indeed waiting for us and I hesitate a bit. He notices and takes hold of my hand so I have to keep walking or get dragged. He opens the door for me and I get in, once more finding myself in the backseat of a car with Axel.
“Where are we going?” I ask as the limousine drives from the airport.
“The office.”
I stare at him in astonishment.
“Just kidding,” he smirks. “It’s called humor. You should try it some time.”
“Where are we going then?” I repeat my question.
He takes his time pouring two glasses of champagne from the complimentary bottle provided and hands one to me. I refuse to take it without him answering my question.
He frowns at me. “I think I like you better when you’re sick. At least then you do as I say without questioning me. It’s just champagne. If I wanted to have my wicked way with you, I would have done so when you were half-naked in the jet.”
Trust him to remind me of that. I take the glass from him deciding I may need the courage of the champagne after all. I take a sip and the liquor goes down easy.
“Are you sure you’re feeling better?” he asks me and I wonder if this makes the third or fourth time he is asking me this question.
When I take long to respond, his hand goes up to my forehead. “Hmm. Still a little warm,” he comments. “I’m no doctor but I think you should take it easy for a day or two.”
“I intend to. As soon as I get to my apartment.”
“Hmm.”
“Do you have the address?” I enquire.
“Don’t need it.”
We continue the rest of drive I silence before I realize the direction we are going does not lead to my apartment in Crystal Court.
“You’re going the wrong way,” I inform him. “The driver took the wrong turn.”
“No, he hasn’t. Why don’t you relax?”
“But I—”
He kisses me unexpectedly shutting me up. He’s not made any intimate gesture towards me since the kiss in my grandmother’s kitchen, that I wondered if he regretted the exchange. Now as he kisses me into oblivion again, it’s obvious he regrets nothing.
I blink several times when he moves away from me and although my cheeks are aflame from the fire his kiss kindled in me, I try to act as though I am kissed unexpectedly every day and so I am not affected.
“My apartment is—” I started again and he reached over, claiming my lips once more. This time he kisses me longer and deeper until I could feel my underwear becoming wet. Still, I angle my head to better receive his kisses, my hands clutching at his shoulders.
He pulls back from me and I can hear my breathing embarrassingly harsh and panting to my ears.
“Why are you doing that?” I ask.
“What? This?”
This time I expect his kiss but I don’t make any attempt to get away. His lips were too arousing on mine. I feel like I am getting a fever all over again. When our lips part for the third time, I immediately go on the offensive and press my hands towards his chest to ward off another kiss.
“Wait. Will you stop doing that? I can’t think when you do.”
His grin is irresistible. “Good. That’s exactly the purpose of these kisses.”
I am distracted to find us driving towards one of the most impressive buildings I’ve ever seen. I count eighteen floors on the Detroit Towers building of luxury condos and know we are at Axel’s home though I couldn’t imagine such an impressive place being a home. It looks too grand. I think of my well-lived in apartment and this structure that seems like a sight simply for viewing.
I am too awed at the building
to protest when the car comes to a stop at the glass doors leading into the building and Axel gets out of the car and reached for my hand to help me out as well. I automatically accept the smaller of the suitcases while he drags the other behind us as we enter the building.
I don’t have much time to take in the expensively decorated foyer, and the formally dressed floor man before Axel prompts me towards one of the elevators. He punches in the eighteenth floor and I am silent, my mind racing. The jet, the limousine and now this are blatant reminders to me of how different we are and that rarely the extent of these differences mix well. The surroundings make me feel gauche and I don’t like that feeling at all.
“I want to go to my apartment,” I inform him, cringing to one corner in the event he tries to kiss the senses from me again.
He nods at me. “I will bring you to your apartment. In due time.”
“Why not now?”
“Because I want you here now. In my condo.”
My heart lurch at his words. Does he mean that he wants to have sex?
He gives me another of his heart stopping grins. “You’ve a dirty mind.”
“I’m not think about s…” I trail off realizing he hasn’t mentioned the word so if I do, I would be as guilty as he thinks I am.
The elevator dings and I am relieved to get out of the cramped space with him. The elevator is actually use, bigger than most but Axel has a way to make any closed space feel smaller than it is.
“There are only two apartments on each floor,” he tells me as he swiped his card and allows me to enter hesitantly ahead of him.
What had gram said to me? Live a little?
My mind is blown by the condo and I don’t know where to look. The open floor plan was beautifully designed flowing gracefully from room to room. The apartment is massive with hardwood floors and recessed lighting features and a delicate chandelier hanging from the ceiling.
My eyes are drawn to the glass enclosed walls, the drapes drawn to reveal the Canadian skyline and the picturesque view of the river. The living room is beautifully decorated with a long, semi-circular white genuine leather lounge before a matching glass table. This is set in front of a glass enclosed fireplace. The dining area is also visible from the entrance of the apartment, a delicate glass table with eight chairs, the seats designed from the same material as the lounge.
Pieces of abstract artwork are on the walls, large decorative pitchers in corners,
“Leave the suitcase. I’ll give you a tour.”
I am too curious not to do as he suggested. I have never been in a place that looks this grand. Slipping an arm through mine, he brings me to the different rooms of the condo. There ae three bathrooms and I discover the entertainment room is separate from the living room. This consists of dark brown leather loveseat and matching armchairs on either wide with built in cooler system. There are more artworks in this room as well and the drawn blinds give a peaceful view of the river. I take in the HD TV mounted before the couches. It triples the size of the one back at my apartment.
The kitchen is enormous and I swear somebody could get lost inside. It has all sorts of state of the art electronic equipment I am not familiar with. We pass by his home office and then he takes me to the different bedrooms. There are four in total.
I believe he deliberately saves his bedroom for laugh. I intend to poke my head in and leave but the master bedroom is so professionally designed, I enter the room, looking about, taking in everything with my artistic eye. The man really has an appreciation for art. So far, each room we went into had some sort of showcase and his bedroom is no exception. A painting hangs on the wall over the bed, abstract art again. The huge four poster bed takes up a lot of space but leaves room for a chaise lounge with throw pillows, a recliner, a stainless steel and glass shelf over which hangs another television much like the one in the entertainment room. On the shelf he has his electronic gadgets organized, his echo dot, iDock, videogame, speakers, Blu Ray and DVD speakers and others I can’t easily identify.
“Umm, this is all amazing,” I remark, trying to retreat especially when my eyes land on the bed again. “But I should go.”
“There’s no rush.”
I could feel myself getting upset because I have no idea what I am doing here. This condo is not me. I am used to worn carpets with stains, couches that have seen better days, a television that’s quirky and sometimes needs a whack to work.
“You shouldn’t have brought me here,” I tell him in a tight voice. “Why are you doing all this? Why trail me in Birmingham? Why the jet? The limousine? Now this? Are you- are you trying to impress me to sleep with you?”
He scowls at me and walks over to place his hands on my shoulders. “I don’t need to show you all this to sleep with you,” he responds cockily.
“Then why am I here Axel?”
“Does it matter why you’re here?”
“Of course it matters. None of this makes sense. You don’t make any sense. I’m still trying to find out if you’re sane.”
“I assure you, I’m very much a sane man. Except when I am around you.”
Before I can react, his hand shifts from my shoulders and down my arms to span my small waist. He pulls me closer to his body so I can feel his hard body against mine. I gasp but instead of stepping away, I grip his shoulders to steady myself. I can’t help it. When he pulls me into his arms, I go all putty. I don’t know myself different from Play-Doh.
“This is what you do to me, Joyce,” he says, his lips so close to mine I can taste his words. He brings his pelvis in contact with mine and I feel his arousal press against my belly.
“You promised, no sex,” I croak out the words before I am too far gone.
“And there’ll be no sex,” he replies, his tongue flickering out to lick the corner of my mouth. “But there are other things that are almost as good as sex. Like kissing. And touching.”
“Hmm.” My God, was that a moan from me?
He teases my lips apart with his tongue before possessing my mouth and it is a good thing I’m clutching his arms already because my knees go weak and I almost fall. He sweeps me up into his arms and walks with me to the bed. He sits with me across his lap and never once does his lips remove from mine.
I wrap my arms securely around his neck, my fingers playing in the hair at his nape. I shift my bottom to gain a firmer seat on his lap and he groans, the sound captured by my lips. If I’d thought his kisses powerful before, they are potent now. I can think of nothing but his lips on mine, triggering off shivers throughout my body.
He stands with me in his arms and deposits me on the bed. He releases my lips and eases off the bed. Breathing hard, my chest moving rapidly, I watch in confusion as he move through doors I assume lead to a closet, he returns with silk scarves and joins me on the bed once more.
“Axel, what are you doing?” I whisper the question, in fear.
“You’ll see.”
“Axel!” I exclaim his name when he reaches for my hands and tie them together with a bright orange scarf and knot the other end through one of the small posts of the bead head. I tug at the restrain, trying to break free but although the bondage isn’t tight around my wrists, I am not going anywhere unless he frees me.
“What do you think—”
Another kiss silences me. This time he just doesn’t kiss me but his hands trail lightly over my body. He floods my mouth with his tongue and I find myself drinking from him, my hands tied above my head forgotten. He cups my right breast and I feel a little apprehensive about the small size of my boobs. He doesn’t seem to mind though as he tugs down the top of my dress, exposing my lace bra. Through the flimsy lace material, his fingers pluck at my nipples, making them even more painfully erect.
He trails kisses from my lips over my face and lick the pulse at the base of my neck. He nips the flesh gently between his teeth and all I can do is pant against him. Another hand trail beneath the hem of my dress and my legs automatically close on his hand.
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“Shh,” he quietens me and licks my earlobe before catching the flesh into his mouth and sucking.
My legs tremble but they allow him access this time as his hand climbs higher until it was brushing against the front of my underwear.
“Axle,” I gasp his name as his fingers brush over the sensitive bud where it seems all the emotions I am experiencing is flooding to. He slips his hand into the waistband of my underwear, something no other man has ever done. His fingers trail through my pubic hair and down to investigate the folds of my slick flesh. I am wet and I clamp my eyes shut which only intensifies what I am feeling.
“You’re so wet for me,” he murmurs in my ear. “I want to you hear you scream my name as you cum for me.”
His words gets me incensed. I feel my hips rising of its own accord, moving to the rhythm of his fingers rubbing a slow and steady against my clit. He flattens the nub, his hands starting to rub faster and harder. He licks and kisses my jawline as I gasp and ooh and ah at the magic of his touch.
My breath is coming in shallow gasps now and my hips jerk from the intensity of the pressure building up inside me. My eyes fly open in panic, finding Axel staring into my face, his face reflecting his enjoyment of what he is doing to me.
“That’s it, Joyce,” he instructs, his voice urgent. “That’s it. Cum for me Joyce. Explode for me.”
“Aaaaxle!” I do scream his name at the climax that rips through my body, especially when I try to jerk away and ride the climax to completion. He continues to rub harder at this time which only serves to strengthen the force that hits me. My hands pull against the binding but it holds and Axle’s mouth descending on me, absorbs my cries and mewls.
I collapse back weakly onto the bed when the turbulent waves in the pit of my belly now becomes a gentle tide. I am surprised at how heavy my eyes have become and can’t even find the energy to feel embarrassed by what he has just done to me.