Possessive Parisian Pilot: An Older Man Younger Woman Romance (A Man Who Knows What He Wants Book 90)

by Flora Ferrari

  “Trans what?”

  “Transponder. It’s how air traffic control keep an eye on us. It ‘squawks’ and they pick it up.”

  “Squawks like a parrot?”

  “That’s a good analogy actually, because parrots repeat things right?”

  “It looks big.”

  “Twenty inches across and mostly made of metal.”

  “So the powers that be always know where you are?”

  “That’s right.”

  “But do they always know what you’re doing?” I ask, putting the armrest down and leaning on it, getting my body halfway over the transponder and seeing what kind of response he gives from the chance to look down my top a bit.

  “I guess that depends on if this is turned on or off,” he says, pointing to a button which is in the mute position.

  My eyes move from the button to his pants and then to his face.

  He doesn’t flinch and doesn’t acknowledge or apologize for the button that has very apparently already been pushed…the one in his head that’s got his cock fighting to break free of his trousers.

  Without breaking eye contact he pushes his armrest down, leaning across the transponder stopping just inches short of my face.

  I can feel his breath on my face…hear him take in quick, shallow breaths of oxygen as his pupils dilate and I know my body is doing all the same things too.

  My stomach tightens and I know that I’m about to finally lose that whole “never been kissed” badge at over thirty thousand feet off the ground.

  Has that ever happened before?

  Hard telling, but it’s not hard to tell how hard he is as I can hear the leather seat squeak as he moves his lower half to try and relieve the pressure that’s built up in his boxer briefs, or whatever he’s got on underneath his uniform.

  I move in closer and he responds by doing the same, our lips only separated by a hairsbreadth now as I can feel the heat from his skin on mine.

  My eyes close and my lips soften, but don’t part, just before I feel his mouth find mine and I feel like I’ve stepped outside the cockpit and am floating on one of those big fluffy clouds.

  It’s the first time I’ve ever felt something so powerful in my entire life.

  I hear the armrest squeak and then feel the tips of his fingers on my cheek, as he pushes a lock of hair behind my ear as his head turns slightly to his right, as mine turns to my right, allowing our kiss to grow deeper, hungrier, and more needy.

  One hand comes off my armrest and I reach for his arm, finding his thick tricep that’s so big I can’t even get my hand around half of it.

  Even through his uniform I can make out each of the muscles in his arm. I squeeze them hard, but they don’t budge.

  Using the armrest for leverage I take the initiative, realizing he’s risking everything here, and squat in my seat before placing my shins on the armrest as I steady the rest of my body by bringing my second arm over to his other arm and then slowly working my hands down his body like I’m some sort of gymnast.

  As soon as I find his belt, I unbuckle it with one hand and grab his cock over the top of his pants with the other, feeling it’s thickness wondering how I’m going to fit all of that anywhere inside of me.

  But am I ever ready to try.

  His hand cups my ass hard, palming my globe and lifting me a bit, taking the stress off my shins.

  Is this man lifting my entire body weight with one hand just by simply taking one of my glutes in his hand?

  Yes.

  I’ve never felt so weightless or feminine before, and he’s made me feel this way without even saying a word.

  And now I’m going to make him feel something neither one of us will ever forget.

  I unzip his pants and grab greedily at his boxer briefs, before sliding a hand underneath, taking hold of his monster cock and pulling it clean out of his underwear as a deep moan rumbles from his chest as he lies back in his seat, moving me slightly to the side with it.

  My balance is shaky and he must notice it because suddenly his grip on my backside gets even tighter and he spins me around so I’m at a vertical angle with my face pointing down, staring down the crown of his cock.

  I can see the precome glistening in the light from the control panel wondering what kind of view he’s got, but I don’t have to wait long because suddenly I feel him jerk my pants to my ankles before I hear my shoes hit the floor and then my pants and panties just after.

  I feel the cool air on my pussy but it does little to turn down the heat inside me. The air is the cockpit is thick as I lean in, taking the head of his cock in my mouth and slowly slide down his shaft taking a few inches before bringing my head back.

  He’s leaned so far back in his chair that we’re closer to being horizontal than we are to being vertical, which means not so much blood is rushing to my head, but by the size of the vein throbbing in his dick there’s definitely a lot of blood rushing to the other head that men often think with.

  But there’s no thinking about anything when it comes to him, he’s long, well groomed, and fulfills an oral fixation I didn’t even know I had…and I can’t even take half of him.

  Suddenly I feel a warm flick right through my folds and a hot breath slide through the crack of my ass and the realization that he’s about to eat me out from behind has my pussy clenching as I try not to bite down on his dick as I want to cry out in ecstasy.

  My head continues moving up and down, bobbing on his pole while he licks me from the front door to just shy of the back, his tongue opening me up wide as a musky scent of sex fills the air to the point I’m sure the windows must be fogging, but how could I know? I’ve got a face-full of cock that’s demanding my attention and nothing in the world could pull me from it…

  Until his tongue dives deep inside finding my spot and he literally pulls a wave from inside of me and I unleash a tsunami into his mouth which causes him to erupt deep into my throat, the hot jets shocking me and I quickly realize gravity isn’t my friend in this situation and I need to think fast.

  I swallow everything he has to give, sucking hard and taking big gulps of his gift as my stomach tightens and I finish again right on his face as he greedily keeps my body and clothes just as clean and spotless as I keep his uniform, I greedily continue to gulp down every drop he has to offer, and his offer is more than generous from what little porn I’ve seen on the Internet.

  Finally, when it seems like he has nothing more to give I come up off his cock and move my jaw a few times, not realizing how tight it’d gotten. But there’s no time to think about that now, I need air and there’s none to be found.

  As if he’s reading my mind he flips one of the countless switches sending a plentiful rush of oxygen to the both of us as our chests heave in a failed attempt to come back down from our highs.

  He slowly eases me back, placing my feet on the ground just past the transponder and I grab my panties and pants and quickly slide them back on as I hear him fasten his buckle as he continues to exhale hard through his mouth.

  I may have had some champagne, but after the nap I’m completely sober, not to mention the last thing I want to blame this on is irresponsibility or alcohol. I’m glad I lived out this fantasy, and I’m even happier he was the fantastic Frenchman to do it with.

  But my nervous mind quickly wonders if this is something he’s done before. Okay, maybe not the whole bit at the airport, but has he invited other girls up to the captain’s quarters or the captain’s cabin or whatever it’s called?

  Something tells me he hasn’t, but that something in my gut is met with a slap of reality from my mind. Come on…of course he has.

  How can I think I’m so special when what happened happened so quickly and with such an alpha male in a uniform?

  He must have women lining up left and right for this kind of experience. Heck, he’s probably got it down to a science.

  The co-pilot needing to catch some zzz’s? Yeah, right.

  My guilty conscious tells
me they probably take turns.

  I need to calm down, with all these thoughts going through my head.

  I’m still glad I did what I did, but I’m starting to feel a bit cheap about it.

  Oh well, at least once we land I’ll never have to see him again. And technically I still am a virgin, having saved myself for the man of my dreams.

  The funny thing is, in the moment and the more I got to know him I really thought it was him.

  Then I just realized I’m an innocent girl and he’s an older man who’s experienced it all traveling the globe.

  I need to regroup and it’s not like I can just run to my tiny apartment back in L.A. and hide underneath the covers. That’s not what being a real adult is all about anyways.

  I quickly show myself out of the cockpit, partially because the guilt is starting to set in and also because I honestly don’t want him to get in trouble. It was hard not to scream out when he pleased me the way he did. I can only imagine what radio frequencies might have picked that up and who he’d have to answer to.

  Strangely enough, not talking during the entire thing was kind of…more erotic.

  I was so focused on what I was doing and what he was doing to me, and by eliminating the sense of sound it must have heightened all the other senses.

  Not only that, I didn’t even want any kind of communication device to pick up heavy breathing, so I found myself holding my breath more often than not.

  I’m no expert on intimacy, or even this kind of hot and heavy “stranger” stuff, but it kind of gave me the same sensation I’ve read about in Cosmo and other women’s magazines where women explain how a man applying a bit of pressure around their throats turns them on so much.

  In no way am I about to call myself the next Dr. Ruth, but I feel like I’ve learned something about myself and the human body in the process.

  When I arrive at my seat I don’t stop to do anything other than grab my carry-on from the overhead compartment.

  Quickly I make my way through the curtain, past business class, and into coach.

  Except for a handful of people reading with their overhead lights on, the plane is totally dark and everyone is asleep.

  I see a window seat that’s open and I quickly make my way to it, carefully sliding past a man who’s snoring so loud I know there’s no way I’m waking him up…and I don’t.

  I take a blanket out of it’s package, slouch down in my seat, and wrap the blanket over my head and rest the side of my face against the window.

  What a heck of a way to start a vacation.

  Too bad that nothing could ever really happen with me and my Parisian pilot.

  CHAPTER 8

  Gabriel

  “That can’t be everyone,” I say as the last passenger disembarks from the plane heading for the shuttle bus which will take everyone to the double doors leading to immigrations.

  “That’s everyone, captain. I even looked under the seats,” Francois says.

  There is no way she got past me. I was out of the cockpit and saw every face that stepped off my plane.

  So where is my woman?

  I don’t like this one bit, and I’ve been mad as hell since what happened, happened.

  I even went into first and business class and had Francois keep an eye on the toilets to see if she was hiding in there. Nothing.

  There’s no way she got off this plane.

  “Go ahead and roll that one back, boys,” a voice says on the tarmac.

  Roll that one back?

  I take two steps forward and see they’ve brought a set of steps not only for the front of the plane but also the back.

  Shit!

  I take off like a bat out of hell, practically sliding down the steps out the front of the plane and yell for the bus driver to wait, but he’s already entered the restricted zone.

  “Hey you! Stop!” an air traffic controller yells, but I don’t even consider turning around.

  I sprint behind the bus, even seeing some of the people in the back looking, pointing, and smiling. Two Japanese tourists flash me peace signs and try and line up selfies.

  “Stop the bus!” I yell putting my hand up.

  They shake their heads and insist on the peace sign.

  Talk about cultural differences.

  Of course immigration is on the other side of the building so I’m dodging taxing planes, baggage carts, buses…everything.

  But I don’t care. She will not escape me.

  I’d rather get hit by one of these buses than feel the pain of knowing the one got away. No way that’s haunting me for the rest of my life.

  “Whoa buddy,” some security guard says as he puts up a hand as I near immigration just after the bus.

  I grab it and push it aside mid-stride as I race up the steps, easily outpacing the escalator.

  I continue sprinting down the hallway where I come upon the steps down to immigrations.

  Never in my life was I that kind of kid and I guess at thirty-seven it’s time to do something I’ve always wanted, but never tried.

  I put my butt on the rail and go for a rail-slide.

  Twenty-five years of doing abdominal crunches pays off as I tighten my core and keep my balance as I slide right off the bottom of the rail after sliding straight down four flights.

  “Marie!” I yell.

  Nothing.

  I run to the cabin crew line and hold up my passport as I try and run through the line, but they have those electronic glass doors that slide open only after the immigration official presses a button.

  I shove my passport through the slot and the guy looks at me like I’m crazy.

  “Come on, man! It’s an emergency.”

  He stamps it with a curious eye, but I don’t have time to set him straight.

  Instead I head straight to baggage claim…and she’s not there.

  My chest is heaving as I look around realizing I lost her.

  Wait!

  She didn’t take her original flight and they didn’t get time to transfer the bag over so she’s probably at their counter realizing exactly what I’m realizing.

  I grab a worker and ask them where their counter is.

  Three minutes later and I see her in the distance. I keep running and then throw my feet sideways sliding the last ten yards and then stopping right next to her.

  “Got ya,” I say completely out of breath.

  “Hey,” she says.

  “Hey?”

  “Hey,” she repeats.

  “Where were you going? You just disappeared and I had to chase you down like a deranged stalker or something.”

  “Are you?”

  I can see a strange look in her eye that I can’t quite place. She’s not mad, but she’s obviously not happy either. What in the world set her off?

  “Can we talk?”

  “What is there to talk about?”

  “You. Me. Us.”

  “What about…us?”

  “Please,” I say motioning to the side.

  She breathes out hard and reluctantly takes a few steps away from the counter after sliding them her email address and thanking them for their help.

  “What’s wrong? Why are you acting this way?”

  “Why did you follow me? Do you always follow them?” she asks.

  “Huh? What are you talking about? Who’s them?”

  “The girls you take into the cockpit. Look, I’m not mad about what happened, I’m really not, but it was way out of the ordinary for me and at the time, well I have no idea what I was thinking, I thought maybe we had a connection.”

  “We do have a connection,” I say.

  “What? With our mouths and our…”

  “I’m not even talking about that. You think I just offered you a ride on my flight because I had some ulterior motives?”

  “Why else would you do it?”

  “To be nice.”

  “Since when are the French known for being nice?”

  “Oh! So you want to stereotyp
e an entire country now too because you did something that,” I raise my hands using air quotes, “was out of the ordinary for you? Don’t you think that was out of the ordinary for me too?”

  “It wasn’t?”

  “It was completely out of the ordinary, It’s the first time I’ve ever tried something like that. Are you kidding me? Do you think I’d risk my career, and all the years of studying and training that lead up to it for a fling with some random person that I wanted some crazy story with? You did something that was out of the ordinary and I did too, even more so than you if you really want to compare apples to apples, but I’m not here to try and compete with you. I’m trying to be on the same team with you.”