I’ve never felt more desired by a man. Specially not one I only intend to fuck once. That idea makes it even more liberating and I raise my ass to bring him deeper still.
My body bottles up the arousal that rapidly surges to every part of me, knowing that my climax is inevitable, knowing that Jagger has perfect control over our colliding bodies. One touch of his fingers to my lips and I know he’s going to stop at nothing to give me the greatest orgasm I’ve ever had.
“I’m so close!” I tell him urgently.
“Good girl,” he growls right back, embracing the immediacy of my pleasure. “You’re going to come for me, and it’s only up to me.”
“Yes,” I moan. “I’ll come for you, I want to, so bad.”
“Good girl,” he repeats.
My orgasm shakes me so hard my slit tightens and it almost pushes Jagger right out. Then he slams back in and lets go, pumping so hard, I think I’m going to pass out. I think I did. I completely lost track around that point. The last thing I remember before I fade into the potent fog of bliss is the force of his Herculean moan.
After that round with Jagger, my body is so hypersensitive, I am just sweating and twitching in his bed, mouth agape, allowing myself to pause as everything else in the world goes on without me.
Jagger breathes heavily, sweat bronzing his gorgeous features, and his cock is still hard. Never mind the way he pulled out of me and cannon-blasted a load all over the wet patch of the bed, which I had already marked with my arousal.
The rich smell of intense sex is heady, overpowering my hypersensitive self.
So it happens that I practically perceive every microsecond of the way Jagger leans over to me, holding his cock, about to initiate round two.
Just the sight of this hunk, naked and wanting me, is enough to get me so wet I’m ready to soak through his sheets again.
Yet, as I’m about to embrace all that, I begin to feel something wrong. A growing panic, far away in my head.
“I’m sorry,” I say, sitting up quickly, almost freaking out. I instinctively begin pulling the dress down, edging away from the wet spot — wet half, more like — of the bed.
“You’ve got nothing to be sorry about, beautiful,” Jagger whispers hoarily. “Although I wouldn’t mind a thank you.”
“Thank you,” I say quickly, not catching his joke. “I mean, I’ve got to go. This was just what I needed.”
I stand up and start looking around the room, trying desperately to find something to do, or go to. His bathroom! That becomes my first choice.
Maybe I can pee for a really long time, or something.
The problem is, as I lift myself off the bed, Jagger does the same, and he follows me.
“I get it, you’ve got a boyfriend, you just couldn’t resist,” Jagger says nonchalantly. “Hardly the first time that’s happened to me. Stings a bit each time, though.”
The glare I give him softens to a smile and a laugh. “No, I don’t have a boyfriend. That’s sort of why, though.”
“Had one,” Jagger guesses. “Until recently.”
“Let’s just say one-and-done rules make this a no-fly zone, Captain,” I shut him down.
I also can’t help but notice the way his cock pulses when I call him his favorite title. “Ooops,” I hastily add. That’s when I know. If I don’t get out of here like now, I will slip and fall for his charm, and then I’ll crash and burn.
“Like I said earlier,” his eyes are smoldering. “You got nothing to be sorry about. Fine, you need to go, that’s all okay with me. Can I call you a cab? Drive you back? Lady’s choice.”
Ever the gentleman.
“I can handle myself, I’m a big girl,” I say, with just the tiniest hint of flirtation. Can’t help it.
“That much I very well know already,” Jagger responds. And it works. The inside of my thigh tingles. “Okay, fine. You’re happy, I’m happy. One and done. Had our fun. I can rhyme too, see?”
“Sweet. You’re a great guy,” I tell him, sounding sarcastic but meaning every word. My feet are getting heavy.
“Tell you what,” Jagger says, leaping up and over to the desk by the hotel room window. There’s a notepad. He begins to scrawl, stripping the first square-shaped sheet off and folding it for me. “This is my number. Like I said, lady’s choice. I don’t mean to flatter you, but you’ve a bombshell in bed. Assume this means nothing. That means I want more nothing. Easy enough to understand, right?”
I wasn’t expecting this. I’m about to slip back into my heels and exit with his number folded into my hands, when I decide that’s hardly the fairest thing to do. “Tell you what,” I counter. “Take my number instead. Lady’s already made her choice.”
“Hell yeah,” Jagger grins. He waits as I take the pen from his hands and start scribbling my number. I glance at it again just to make sure it’s correct. “So… guess I’ll see you soon, then?”
I have my hand on the door, just now realizing that I’m still flush from the blinding orgasm he gave me. “We’ll see,” I say, but my voice is thick and dripping with promise.
FOUR
O, IS it true? You’re piloting for Karina again?” is the first thing I hear when I swipe on my screen to accept Serena’s call. No doubt she’s been assigned to the same flights I’m flying for the socialite.
“Why do you ask me questions you already know the answer to, pussycat?” I shoot right back at her.
“Maybe I just like the sound of your voice.”
“I already know that,” I retort. “What’s it to you? A client’s a client. At least Karina won’t be pinching your ass.”
“Don’t be so sure. I’ve heard she swings both ways. I’ve also heard she enjoys her threesomes. Do you think I’d be her type, Jag?” Serena says. Even on the phone I can hear her making a coy pout.
I won’t lie, my mind immediately flashes to the image of me fucking Karina while Serena rides her face. Goddamn, that’s like some triple-X action. “You can ask her that after you get her to tell you whether she wants the chicken or the fish, Serena.”
“Ha ha,” Serena drily sends me. “You’re really into her, aren’t you? Following Karina around like you’re some sort of puppy. Maybe I was wrong when I tried to read you the other day. She wouldn’t have struck me as the sort of type you’d pursue so hard after. I can tell you right now there’s nothing she’s got that I don’t have.”
I roll my eyes while I press the phone close to my ear. “If you say so, Serena.”
“What did you do last night anyway? Not her, I know that much.”
“Jesus, are you spying on me? Get a life, Serena,” I say, not sure I’m flirting anymore. “Besides, I got up to some perfectly adequate fun. Hanging around Escobedos isn’t my idea of a good time.”
“So you fucked someone young and impressionable. Shy and virginal and trembling when you touched her the first time,” Serena says, irritation ramping in her tone.
“Oh baby,” I whisper back, knowing how a deep whisper gets things going for her. “Don’t stop talking dirty to me.”
“Fuck you, Jag.”
“Hey, I just do what I do every night, Serena. Life’s good. Don’t shoot me just because you didn’t get your college dick. Or… worse. You did get your college dick, but it’s skinny, entitled, weak, cums under a minute dick. That sounds more like it.”
“Ugh,” Serena says, confirming my suspicions. “Whatever. I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t get too horny on the flight. I’m not cleaning up after your messes.”
“What do you think I have Will for, pussycat?”
That got her to hang up. A smirk rises to my face.
I hadn’t planned on directing my thoughts to yesterday, as good as that was — and it was good. So good I’m actually wondering if there’s something wrong with me, because I find myself craving Alexa.
Alexa. Sophisticated name for a sophisticated girl, boyfriend or no boyfriend. That pretty little dress, her perky little body in it, those heels she kicks of
f so she can drag me to bed…
Fuck me, I’m hard again.
Actually, I’ve been hard nonstop since she left the room.
I’ve got a whole day before my next flight. The smart thing to do is to resist calling her. Maybe what I need is to move on to my next conquest. Someone new for Serena to be jealous about.
Or maybe I can just lie back, think about Alexa grinding against me as I was thrusting into her… Fuck. I give up. I want her.
I’m not so sure I’m used to this sensation.
Come on, girl, pick the phone up.
I’m walking to Miss Karina’s building, needing to pick her itinerary up so I can log a flight plan. She’s old-fashioned, likes to make me come to her, likes to print things out, hand hard copies to me. You’d think she’s somehow ignored the existence of email these last few decades.
Of course, my calls aren’t to Karina, or her assistant. My calls have Alexa written on the screen, as the screen animates arrows pointing towards her name.
This is my third phone call to her, and she hasn’t picked up once.
Goddamn, it’s almost as if she doesn’t want to talk to me. Yeah, right, as if that’s a thing. She gave me her number, remember? I’m just manning up and letting her know I’m interested.
Not like any of those pussy guys who text and wait by the phone, counting down the minutes to a reply. With me, I’m all about immediate, prompt action. She gives me her number, I’m going to call her, I’m going to ask her if she wants to hook up again.
Or go out to dinner. Fuck, that should be allowed too, right?
The call goes to voice mail just as I pass through the lobby, signing my name in the guest book before I’m handed a visitor’s pass. “Thirtieth floor, suite A,” the security guard tells me as he waves me along.
“Hey there,” I speak as the voicemail tone goes off, recording my message. “It’s Jagger, from last night. Just updating you that I’ve got some long-distance flights out but it looks like I should be able to make time for you if we want to get together again. Yeah? Give me a call.”
Then the beep, then I hang up.
Shit, what kind of girl is this Alexa? Designer dress, lethal heels, makes a confident man doubt himself. Did I somehow not do my best? I mean, she sure wasn’t faking that O. I’m not like other guys, I know when a girl’s cumming like crazy.
Maybe that’s what happened. She’s never had an orgasm during sex before. She’s only familiar with the kind she gets from electric toothbrushes after a Sex and the City marathon, right?
Okay, that was mean. But yeah, seriously. Is that it? Because I gave her a hundred percent last night, and was ready to give her a hundred percent more before she bolted on me.
Maybe this, maybe that. I’m practically paralyzed by all my thoughts, trying to figure this girl out. I sure won’t be doing that over voicemails, that’s for sure.
A receptionist greets me as I arrive at Miss Karina’s office, a tastefully decorated place that reminds me of a hotel I once stayed at. “Jagger McCann, Elizabeth’s expecting me. Or Miss Karina herself, if she’s around,” I tell the receptionist, sliding my phone back into my jeans pocket.
“I’m afraid Miss Karina is not in the building,” the receptionist smiles apologetically. “Right this way to Elizabeth’s office, though.”
She leads me and when we arrive at Elizabeth’s office, she doesn’t even need to introduce me, because Miss Karina’s assistant immediately comes out with a sheet in her hand. “Pilot, right? You look the type, that’s for sure. Here you go.”
I quickly glance over all of the itineraries. “So I’ll need to liaise with you about ground transport after we’ve landed? These destinations will involve fairly straightforward airports, don’t worry.”
“That’s right,” Elizabeth says, nodding. She’s kind of cute, but a bit old for me. Pushing on her mid-forties, that’s for sure, with her wrapped in a bun.
I wait for her to add — you never know with Karina, there are always these special requests — and I get none. “Well, sweet. I’ll make sure the jet’s ready at the hangar in good time for the flight. You flying with? I’ll see you tomorrow, in that case.”
She smiles as I turn to leave. “I’m afraid that’s not the case. Stuck here handling all of her business affairs while she jets off to yet another charity bash. Oh, well. Good luck.”
I enjoy the work I do. Not just the actual, physical act of flying a plane — most anyone can hold onto sticks and let the instruments go into autopilot. Being in flight is thrilling, but I also enjoy the administrative parts of it. Managing people. Taking care of the key passengers. Checking in with the cabin crew, making sure everything’s going well.
My idea of perfection is not so much wowing someone over a perfect sunset, but flying in impossible conditions and making it look easy.
Not to brag, but I’ve done that a lot. Flying sorties for the Navy taught me a lot about composure, executing high-G maneuvers to intercept enemy fighters. And flying corporate clients in executive jets taught me a lot about coolness under fire of a different sort: not letting big-shot corporate types boss me or my guys around.
Some of them always do that. Most of our flights are non-smoking, but just because CEO X or vice-president, sales, Y thinks he’s in a private jet he can light a cigar, well, that doesn’t fly with me. On my plane, there’s one boss. That’s me.
My best clients are the ones who don’t necessarily know that at the start, but rather come to it after experiencing my style of piloting.
That’s how I end up with fat bonus checks from the likes of Señor Escobedo. The money’s nice, but it’s not exactly my driving motivation. My goal is always a perfect flight. Without events and executed so smoothly you’d think you could do it yourself.
Which you can’t, by the way.
“Serena,” I greet the chief stewardess, who’s still wearing a hoodie and yoga pants. That’s probably on purpose, because it sure makes her ass look great. “You didn’t forget your uniform, right?”
“Two hours to flight, Captain,” she reminds me. “It only takes me five minutes to get in my uniform.”
“Might take less than that if someone else is doing the undressing for you,” I point out to her.
She pouts so much at my teasing comment that I have to laugh. “You should help me out then — also, damn it, Jag. Can you please not keep checking your phone when you’re talking to me? You make a girl like me feel like she’s a troll.”
“That’s between you and your mirror,” I shrug.
She is right about the phone, though. I keep checking it, tipping the screen up to my view every few minutes, maybe every few seconds, actually.
I’d be lying to myself if I said I didn’t know why I was doing that. So I’ve chosen to take an ‘ignorance is bliss’ position. I’ll keep checking my phone until something interesting happens, okay? ’Til then, sorry Serena.
“Just waiting on a call,” I absently respond.
“I hope you’re not going to be checking on your phone while we’re flying,” she sasses right back at me. “Especially since we finally got in-flight WiFi working.”
“Hey, I’m not the one posting to Instagram during a flight,” I joke. Serena chuckles along at the comment, remembering how we had a trainee who got fired for doing that.
Captain Charming (Tales of 1001 Flights) Page 4