“Well, have a fabulous dirty weekend. And you make him work for it,” she orders. “You want to be wined and dined, spoilt, and most of all...”
“Cate,” I shriek. “I will. And you get your butt back to work. You’ll get sacked if you throw another sickie.” I roll my case to the door.
“They won’t sack me. I’m too good. Chow for now my lovely.”
I OPEN THE ENTRANCE door, thankful my new boots have a good grip on the slippery paving. I pull my case behind me, looking down the three steps to see the black Land Rover. I lug my case, and as I get closer, I see Sara is in the driver’s seat, not Adrien.
“Boot’s open,” Sara mumbles as I open the back door to see if he’s there.
Where the hell is he? He told me he would be picking me up. Well I think he did.
I leave the door open over the curb, and tow my case to the boot. I push down the handle and place it inside. My heart sinks, noticing no other luggage is in there. Aiming not to be heavy-handed, I pull down the lid and push so it clicks shut.
I climb into the back, sitting behind the passenger seat. Should I ask? I keep glimpsing at Sara, but she’s not giving anything away. I clear my throat quietly as she pulls out onto the road.
“Where’s Adrien?”
“Waiting for you,” she responds in a monotone.
Wow, she’s gone into great detail there. I asked where, not what he’s doing. She’s starting to grate on me.
“Where?” I ask with more determination, looking out of the window.
I see we’re moving by the river Brentford on the M4, and I’ve just seen the GSK building. I look back to Sara for more clarity, but she’s preoccupied, growing frustrated with the build-up of traffic.
“Shit,” she snaps, disregarding my question, looking at her watch.
I may as well be invisible. “Sara?”
She scowls at me through the rear-view mirror. “I have fifteen minutes to get you there, and I’m really in no mood to listen to how excited you are, or how gorgeous you think Mr Knight is. So just shut the fuck up!”
Okay, that told me. Thank you for being so agreeable Sara. You have made me feel a lot less apprehensive about this trip.
My eyes remain glued to the window with sealed lips. I’d like to keep my head on my shoulders.
We continue on the M4 and Sara indicates left. I can see Heathrow airport directly in front of us, and I become twitchy. I can’t think of anywhere near this airport he’d be taking me to. Unless he’s booked us a room at the Holiday Inn for three nights.
Sara glances in the rear-view mirror at me again as I pale. I haven’t even got my passport, and if I tell her that, I might just have to say sayonara to my head after all.
“You don’t need one,” she says, driving over the legal limit between speed cameras. “You’ve got photo ID haven’t you.”
I nod a dumbstruck yes. I always carry my driving license and uni ID on me. But jeez, where the hell is he taking me?
“Well, you hand them over to me when we get there, and I’ll sort out your luggage at security.”
“Fine. Thanks.”
Sara parks the car up in a special designated area, and I see an airport assistant eagerly waiting with a worried look on her over-tanned weathered face. She opens the door for me as Sara rushes to the boot to take out my case.
“Miss Lovell, welcome to the VIP terminal. Please follow me.” The assistant dashes to some automatic doors and opens them with a key card.
Oh my god. I’m in the VIP terminal. Holy shit.
The woman takes me to a metal detector and hurries me through. Of course the alarm goes off. I didn’t think I would be boarding a flight today.
Sara scurries behind me as I empty my pockets in a panic. I toss my driving licence and my troll keyring into a plastic tub, then nearly leap through the metal detector, feeling under pressure to get it right this time.
Sara takes my licence and dashes to another airport assistant, standing by some more automatic doors. I don’t think I have ever had to flash around like this before. My head is dazed and I’m beginning to wilt and fluster.
“Right Miss Lovell, here are your things.” The assistant hands me my keys. “Follow me please.”
This is crazy. Good crazy, I’m not sure of yet. I just want to see Adrien, instead of feeling like I’m on the final spin in a washing machine.
I can see Sara in my peripheral vision, holding up my new white bra. Why Sara do you feel the need to do this to me? There is nothing in those B cups that is a national threat. I blush with embarrassment as she puts it back, nodding her head in disapproval. Probably because it’s not post-box red or transparent. She re-zips my case and rushes toward me.
“Security cleared,” a colossal male guard announces.
“Okay, we hope you enjoy your trip, Miss Lovell.” The wrinkled assistant swipes her card so the thick glass doors part to let in the winter air.
Before I get the opportunity to see where the hell I’m going, or take a step outside, Sara grabs my arm. She pouts her red lips and tilts her head.
“What is it?” I’m concerned by her expression. It’s the kind of look you get from the bearer of bad news.
The assistants wait on the other side of the glass, impatiently waving for me to be quick.
“Elizabeth, you seem harmless enough,” Sara says.
Is that supposed to be a compliment? Because it’s a pretty crap one. I frown at her.
“Look,” she lowers her voice. “Don’t go into the room.”
“What room?
“Miss Lovell, we need to go, now,” the assistant calls.
Before I go anywhere, I need to know what this is about. Is she referring to a hotel room? It could be just her way of making me suspicious about this trip. We don’t exactly see eye-to-eye.
“Just don’t.” She turns and walks away.
Great, now my head is full of doubt. This is supposed to be a romantic trip with a sexual god, and thanks to Sara I’m questioning it.
Liz, think about this. He’s waiting for you. He’s done all of this for you. Stop being cynical and enjoy it.
“Miss Lovell!” The cross assistant nearly breaks her voice yelling at me.
With haste I dash into the cold breeze and out onto the wet tarmac. I see a cream jet plane with the scrolled words, Fly in Ease, on its tail. I’m gobsmacked. I’m walking toward this dignitary form of transportation, and it’s impossible to contain my immature anticipation.
I have one assistant to the right side of me, and the other to my left carrying my case. The door of the jet is open, and there’s a warm luminosity coming from inside.
Adrien appears at the top of the metal stairs, holding a glass of whiskey, with those come get me eyes gazing down at me. I smile at him, trying to be mature about this, but my lips expel an annoying giggle, and I have to hold my breath to rid it.
He looks amazing. But then he always does. He’s wearing a casual creased white shirt, grey jeans, and brown loafers on his feet. I suck in my cheek as I climb closer, noticing he has a little designer stubble going on, which makes him even more alluring.
“Miss Lovell.” Oh my, he’s doing that chivalrous kissing of the hand thing again. “You.” He’s still kissing my hand, and his coarse touch is making my whole arm tingle. “Look.” He gazes up with sexy eyes. “Wonderful.”
“Is this for real? Are we just going to stay on the tarmac, or are we going to fly? Where are we flying to? I can’t believe this. Is this your plane, it must have cost you a f....”
“Elizabeth,” he snaps and sniggers at my lapse of sanity. “You’re babbling. Go inside and calm down.”
“Sorry.” I sigh out, brushing deliciously close by him.
The interior, well what can I say, it’s very Voguish. There’s a padded cream sofa in the style of seventies retro with button tufts. There are two large armchairs of the same design. I can see a large contemporary glossy black drinks cabinet with an opaque glass door, containing an ice box and many dif
ferent cut crystal glasses. And the television, well, it’s more of a cinema screen size. This is amazing, and a bit excessive.
I turn to Adrien as he closes the airlock door. My jaw is ajar and I can feel my lips drying out. I crank it shut, but it falls open again.
Is this all for my benefit, or is this like a regular thing for him? My heart is telling me to enjoy it, but my head is saying I need to tell him this is way too much.
“Elizabeth, you’re thinking too hard. It would be wise for you to take a seat for take-off.”
I turn to my side and look down at the chair. It will do. I fall into it and it spins me out of control. I squeak out loud in shock, my heart racing. Now I’m facing the porthole window, and have made an inept fool of myself.
“Elizabeth, easy does it. You’ve not touched a drop yet.” Adrien hands me half a glass of white wine as I flap around, trying to alter the swivel chair. He blows out and bends down, rotating me into the correct position. I think I’m annoying him with my inelegance.
He secures the base of the chair to the floor so it doesn’t revolve as I close my eyelids, feeling completely undignified. Then he takes the buckle from the base of the seat, and seductively pulls it across my lap. His eyes are unusually dark today, and his pupils have lassoed mine. I swallow down the lusting lump in my throat as he straightens up, lifts his whiskey up from the cabinet, and sits down an arms-length away. He fastens himself into the chair adjacent to mine.
“Is this your plane?” I ask.
He chuckles. “Kind of. I share it with colleagues. I usually fly myself, but thought it would be rude to leave you back here all alone.”
Of course he flies too. Oh my god, I would have loved to have watched him doing his thing in the cockpit.
I sip my wine. It’s really nice wine. I take another sip and expel a breath as it makes my insides feel all warm, and lessens my lusty thoughts of him.
“It’s a Cuvee Frederic Emile 2006. Even I like that wine.” He notices my pleased expression.
“Did I need to pack a bikini or swimming costume?” I ask as the plane moves down the runway. “I’ve just packed a few simple things.”
“We’re not going far. A short car journey after we land in Edinburgh, and we’ll be at my second home,” he says, looking out of the window. “Killiecrankie, are you familiar with it?”
If he’s expecting me to know, he’s barking up the wrong tree. Towns, roads, directions, and me in general, are not a good mix. I once reported Beryl stolen to the police. I could have sworn I left her outside Holt Bakery. The fact is, I parked her outside Clarks Shoe Store two streets away. So yes, I have heard of Edinburgh. It’s a big city up north. But kill, whatever it’s called, I have no knowledge of.
“No. It sounds like a village?” I reply.
“So you don’t know about the battle that took place there in the sixteenth century, never studied it in middle-grade?”
I hope he’s not noticing my incompetence on this subject. But jeez, it’s a bit boring. Please don’t look bored Liz.
“We don’t do middle grade here.” I will use this moment to change the subject. “So, Washington, where did you study?”
He removes his lap belt now we are in the air, and pours himself a shot of posh bourbon.
“I studied at GWU, and hold ph.D’s in management, business, finance, and marketing.” He sighs and sits down, inexpressively. “But it never thrilled me you know. That’s why I travel a lot.”
It’s a normal reaction now for me to ogle him, and he’s probably very used to it. But he’s brushing that crystal glass over his bottom lip deep in thought, and wow, it is a sexy sight to see.
“What about you Elizabeth; what are your dreams and aspirations?”
I cradle my wine to my chest. “Well, just to graduate for a start.”
“Oh come on. I bet there’s something more in there.” He points his glass to his temple. “Everyone has dreams.”
I rock my pupils side to side. I don’t want to discuss my fairy tale job. In the real world, every job sucks a little. But he’s waiting with baiting eyes, and I know it will be nowhere near on the scale of what he’s achieved, or remotely interesting.
“You’re ashamed?” he asks.
“No, of course not.”
“You need to stop being so pessimistic about things. Life is too damn short for it.” He stands and takes one step to crouch down next to me.
I’ve never been attracted to knees before. But his, I imagine my hands running up over his fine thighs. I shake my head, embracing my glass tighter, all rattled and heated.
“Have you heard of the mile high club, Elizabeth?” he asks so simply, unclipping my lap belt.
I boil promptly as fire zips up over my cheeks, because I have heard of it. I chew on my lip and try to absorb his merciless demanding view on me.
“Hmm-hmm.” I blow out.
He walks to the far end of the plane, leaving the work in my hands. Now I have to get up from this seat and follow him. Why has he done that? Does he want to see how far I will go; how brave I will be for him?
I’m now realising just how much he’s changing me. I used to be the girl who shied away from anything X-rated. Now he’s put me slap-bang in the middle of this red-hot fantasy.
Think about this Liz. Drink your wine first. Courage is needed.
“Shit.” I blow out as I stand up, and accidently slam my glass down.
As soon as I get within a foot from the door, Adrien’s hand seizes and drags me into a bathroom. The only light in here is around the mirror above the sink. It’s dark, but light enough so I can see his sexual precision. He eyeballs me with imploration; an almost aggressive sex driven urge.
He reaches out and runs his fingers slowly up my bicep to cup my neck. I exhale with slender vision as he fluctuates me back and forth. He now has me drugged and yielding with his touch.
He wrenches my body toward his predatory eyes, and I am his prey. There’s a feeling, a powerful sensual understanding between us. I can’t explain it, because I’ve never felt it before now.
He shifts me back, fixated on me and my heavy out-breaths. We respire heavy and in sync with one another, as he pushes me up against the rectangular sink.
“If there is a god.” His fingertips trace up my cheek. “He would not let you near me.”
“Why?” I whisper, weakly.
“Because I will do the most sinful things for this body.” His hand sweeps over the side of my breast.
A yearning gasp emerges from my lips as he rolls his forehead on mine. He nibbles my bottom lip, and the passion takes hold. One hand he keeps on my face, and the fingers of the other delve through my hair, grasping the roots at the base of my neck. He’s kissing me the way he did in that garage, and he’s blowing my damn mind.
His hand routes up beneath my shirt, and his fingers explore my sensitive nipple. Suddenly, he lifts me energetically so I’m sitting on the sink, knees splayed wide for him. Still his cool lips rotate hotly against mine. He tastes like sweet cologne, whiskey, and mint. The perfect ingredients to command me.
He draws back a step, stands tall, and unzips one of my boots, then the other, sliding them off my feet. I fidget and breathe impatiently. Shit, it’s impossible to hold on any longer, and he can see me losing it for him.
“Wait,” he says with a sinful smile, yanking down my jeans.
But it’s no good. I can’t be delayed. Not now that I’m ready to combust in my brand new panties. I squirm for him to hurry, clutching the sink with damp hands.
“You’re so alive,” he says, lifting my leg over his shoulder, to lace kisses on the side of my knee.
Jeez, his wet touch is moving down the inside of my thigh. Whoa, this is a torturous pleasure the likes I’ve never felt.
He angles down on me, delicately kissing and tonguing my sensitive opening, and things begin to get even wilder, fast. Grasping my butt and with his head firmly planted between my legs, he laps, licks, and tongue fucks me hard, groan
ing deep in enjoyment. I moan out loud and my hips tremor. He’s encouraging me to come so hard, I can barely breathe.
“Oh fuck me!” I cringe and clench up.
The tip of his tongue is now sliding up to my pubic bone and back down, too damn slow. Hell, this is magnificent and painful. But dammit, I need so much more. I need him.
“Hmm, you taste better than my poison, Elizabeth,” he muffles.
I can’t frigging do it. I can’t be quiet. I growl in frustration, head high, sliding up and down the mirror as his hand moves up to cup my breast.
“Shush.”
“Adrien... please!”
“Wait,” he growls.
Screw that. I bolt upright and grab his waistband in fury. I rip open his zipper to free his rock hard length, latching my legs around his waist like a Venus flytrap. His torso moves back in surprise and he watches me gasping, hungry and hot, his lips forming a mischievous ray.
“We are going to have to practice while we’re on this trip,” he says, beaming. “That patience of yours needs tweaking.”
I don’t agree or disagree. I have only one thing on my mind.
He sucks in his lips, as though he’s savouring my juices still on his mouth, then arches over to kiss my neck. I feel a sharp pinch below my earlobe. He once said no biting, but I’m glad he’s biting me. He can bite me all he likes.
His nose and mouth nestle through my hair to my ear. “You taste so good,” he utters.
I use my legs and heave his body into my sex. His erection presses deep inside and he lingers for a moment, as we both enjoy the passionate connection. The receptiveness of my hips comes fast into play, as I lift my body to maximize this utopic feeling. He thrusts slow from his solid core to tip, while pecking my neck delicately. My heart tempo is out of control, and I can hear my own blood circulating around my body. Boom-Boom-Boom.
He plunges in and out of me with the perfect skill, penetrating the raging climax bubbling through me. He grunts, moving my weak neck so we’re head to head, sweat on sweat. He stares with hunger and supremacy over me, causing me to tremble in need. I grip the corners of the sink, and gyrate with him faster to achieve total elation. Because fuck me, I’m in a state of ecstasy right now.
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