3 BOOK BUNDLE: Flown By The Billionaire I, II, & III (3 page)

“Absolutely,” I concurred, nodding. “I agree.”

“I know you need this job, so I promise from now on, I will
behave more professionally,” he concluded.

I won’t pretend that I wasn’t disappointed, but I was
grateful. We’d reached an agreement, and despite the fact an attraction
remained between us, knowing we’d agreed not to act upon it eased my
mind…somewhat.

The truth was, I thought about him all the time when I
wasn’t at work. When we flew alone together, I found myself focused on
minuscule things; like the way his hands wrapped around a coffee mug, the
movement of his throat as he swallowed, the handful of hairs that strayed from
his side parting and crept onto his forehead, and the way his fingers tapped
lightly on the keyboard of his laptop when he was focused on his work.

Sometimes, I would feel the heat of his gaze and wondered if
he was looking at small aspects of my movement. It was impossible to say,
because he never let me catch him.

What was most difficult about that period was that in order
to help retain a professional distance, Alex had stopped asking me to sit and
chat with him. His friendship was something I quickly came to miss. I’d been
able to talk to him in a way that I couldn’t talk to anyone else in my life -
I’d never been able to talk to anyone as I had him.

Looking back, I think that it was a mistake to try to avoid
each other. The only purpose it served was to create a tension between us that
gradually ballooned, until one day the inevitable happened: it burst.

W
e were on our way back
from Los Angeles where Alex had been attending a conference. During the journey,
he’d remained in the front of the cabin and I’d been tucked away behind the bar,
finding pointless jobs to do. About two hours from landing, he called me over.

“Melissa,” he said, rising from his seat. “I wanted to say
I’m sorry for the awkwardness between us lately.”

“No need to apologize,” I said, smiling and turning in the
hope that would be all he had to say.

However, he quickly grasped my wrist to prevent me from
leaving. “Please don’t go,” he said. “I…” he glanced down at the fingers he
held firmly, but not roughly, around my wrist and gradually withdrew them. When
his focus moved back to my face, his eyes were filled with something I could
not define.

Then, unexpectedly, his head moved toward mine, not in a
sudden rush; but a measured, deliberately slow pace. I had plenty of time to
step away from him, but I couldn’t. I didn’t want to. Even though a part of me
knew that the consequences could be disastrous both professionally and
personally, the larger part disregarded all thoughts of next week, tomorrow, or
even an hour from that moment.

It felt like an eternity. His warmth gradually closing in on
me, the sandalwood scent of his cologne growing stronger, and his presence
becoming more powerful. Then, gently, oh so gently, he melded his soft lips to
mine.

I stood there, my hands by my sides, unsure of what to do
with them. My eyes dropped heavily and I moved my lips beneath his, pursing and
molding them gently until our two mouths seemed to fit perfectly.

Until that moment, I’d never experienced a kiss quite as
delicious and sweet as his. He hummed contentedly and the low rumble in his
chest vibrated against my breasts. I hadn’t even realized he’d stepped forward
and that the lengths of our bodies were pressed together just like our lips.

He was firm, rigid, reliable and strong. All of those things
ignited a sudden fiery passion that I didn’t know was held inside of me. It was
no longer enough to feel his muscular frame against me. All of the fantasies
I’d had about him; the dreams I’d woken from feeling hot, restless, and
yearning, paled in comparison to the reality of me having him.

Both of my hands moved quickly to his chest, running up the
silky surface of his shirt and exploring the curves of his hard pecs until I
reached his broad, sturdy shoulders. Lacing my fingers around his neck, I
pulled him hungrily closer, while my lips parted in a moan of delight.

His right arm seemed to instinctively loop around my waist
and he tugged me to him with the same degree of desire. His tongue swept into
my mouth, the tip drawing tenderly in and out, coaxing mine into a strange,
slow, sensual wrestle.

I whimpered, my lower half moving unbidden in small rhythmic
thrusts against his hard hip bone. My heart was racing, blood pounding raw heat
and lust throughout my body. My head swam with nothing but pure need until I
felt the dampness spreading in the crotch of my panties.

Alex moved a couple of steps back and pulled me with him. Not
that I needed any encouragement, he would have had to pry me off him. My
fingers were trying desperately to grasp his hair, and my lips moved
frantically, clasping and unclasping between hurried pants for breath.

His legs unexpectedly struck the couch and he let his body
fall heavily into the seat. I stumbled forward with him, not expecting the
sudden loss of his tall and strong frame. Our mouths parted and I gave a cry of
surprise, as I found myself falling forward. But he had me. His hands were
securely on my waist and he guided me onto his lap.

My knees landed on either side of his thighs and no more
than a second later, I found myself shuffling closer. I was taller than him
now, and it was he now who looked up to me, awaiting a kiss. For a moment, I
simply looked at him. With the back of my hand I caressed the line of his
cheekbone and upper jaw. “Alex,” I whispered, my voice thick and hoarse.

As his fingers moved from my waist, his touch slid down to
my thighs. He rubbed them gently before moving back up and around to my
buttocks, which he cupped in his possessive masculine hands.

My eyes snapped shut and I jerked at the sudden, sexy
aggressiveness. “Ahh,” I mewled.

He said nothing as he increased his grip slightly and pulled
me closer to him.

My pubic bone struck his with a sharp bump, but I didn’t
have an opportunity to dwell on that. Instead, my senses were focused on the
large, hard swell that was pushing against my aroused, swollen outer lips.
“Alex,” I panted, eyes widened in shock at the scorching heat that permeated
his pants. “Maybe we shouldn’t be doing this,” I blurted.

“You want to stop?” he said, his face dipping forward to the
hint of cleavage that was visible between the sides of my blouse. As he kissed
his way up the curve of one breast, my chest began to heave with breathless
excitement and my nipples strained at the lacy fabric of my bra.

“Oh, God,” I gasped, lunging my hips forward.

Leaving my right breast, he moved his attention to the
right, mumbling against my skin. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” I whimpered, one hand moving in small circles over the
back of his head and neck. “No,” I repeated.

Once his mouth had explored every inch of skin available to
him, he lifted his head and his hands unfurled from around me. His intense eyes
had grown darker with lust and he fixed them intently on my face. His fingers
then gently untied the knotted scarf around my neck. Sweeping the silk away
from my skin, his lips immediately descended on this newly exposed flesh.
Setting every inch of my body aflame, he nibbled and licked his way from my
collarbone to my earlobe. Meanwhile, his hands were occupied with the buttons
of my blouse and were soon edging the cotton off my shoulders.

I quickly released my hold of him to shed the shirt, before
wrapping my arms tighter than ever around his neck. “Oh Alex,” I whispered,
bending my face to his ear and taking the rim gently between my teeth.

“Ugh,” he groaned. “I need you.” His fingers were at my
back, unhooking my bra. With deft, warm hands, he rapidly tugged the material
from me, baring my breasts to him.

One nipple was soon enveloped by his hot mouth. His teeth
teased the tight distended nub and his tongue tracing it almost reverently.

The need to feel the warmth of his flesh overwhelmed me. Once
he released my arms to allow my bra to drop to the floor, I then grasped
feverishly at the front of his shirt. With his mouth still intent at my bosom,
it was difficult to reach his buttons. With struggled and frustrated groans, I
yanked gracelessly at the material.

Eventually, with a chuckle, Alex lifted his face. “Would you
like some help?” he asked, his hands smoothing up my torso and caressing the
outer edges of my breasts.

Squirming as chills shot down the length of my spine, I
exhaled a shaky breath. “I can do it,” I eventually said, recovering myself
just enough to refocus my attentions on his shirt. Able to see now, I moved
smoothly and unfastened three buttons before placing my palm on the toned chest
I’d uncovered. It was just as firm and powerful as it had seemed clothed. The
warmth and softness was contrasted with rugged dark hair, which was fine and
short, and covered much of his upper torso. The rest of the shirt and his tie
were still in my way and with a frenzy of movement, I tugged at the tie,
slipping the shorter end through the knot and chucking the black silk over my
shoulder. Surprising myself, I then pushed the white shirt off his shoulders,
dipping my head to kiss his collarbone.

In all my previous sexual encounters, I had been passive. I’d
been willing enough, but was too nervous and unsure to make any kind of
advance. I’d never even had the nerve to be on top. Sitting astride Alex was,
in and of itself, a first. But somehow, with him, nervousness and fear took a
backseat. I was driven by desire, the like of which I’d never known. Suddenly,
I understood what it was to
want
someone sexually, to need them so
desperately that nothing else in the world mattered; not my parents’
expectations or the religious dogma. If the priests and nuns were right and I
was going to hell, what a way to go!

 Alex leaned forward so he could yank the shirt from his
arms, and I instantly threw my hands around his back, pushing my breasts against
his solid chest. He glanced up and I brought my face down to his, kissing him
passionately as I enjoyed the pressure and warmth of his body against my taut
nipples.

As I sucked his lower lip into my mouth, his fingers gripped
the hem of my skirt and began to hike it upward. There was purpose and hunger
in his actions, but he managed to move with grace and a control that I found
very sexy.

Bundling my skirt at my waist, he trailed gentle fingers
over the edge of my panties. In response, my hips rocked and pushed my inflamed
sex to his engorged penis. With a groan, he removed his lips from mine and
looked directly into my eyes. “You are so beautiful,” he mumbled, as one hand
lifted to my face and scooped a loose strand of hair behind my ear. The fingers
of his other hand were slipping down into my panties.

I froze, every muscle in my body tensing with dread. I
hadn’t prepared for this. If I’d allowed myself to think that it could actually
happen, maybe I would have waxed for him; that’s what most men like, I thought
to myself. As it was, my hair was trimmed and shaved into a neat triangle, but
what if he didn’t like it? What if he was used to hairless women, and found me
unattractive or even disgusting?

The tips of his fingers moved inextricably lower, meeting
the hair that began at my pubic bone. He didn’t pause; there was no surprise,
no reaction of any kind. Instead, his hand continued to smooth lower,
eventually reaching my distended lips and drawing his forefinger between them.

I watched his face closely, searching for any sign of
disappointment with my body. He was still looking up at me, his features fervid
and open. As Alex’s moistened finger slid up to my clitoris, my jaw fell open
in a silent moan of pleasure. I was no longer able to keep my eyes on his.
Instead, they drifted closed and my head dropped back.

“Alex, please,” I panted, thrusting slightly and offering my
needy opening to his affectionate touch.

However, he did not heed my request. While his index finger
continued to roll playfully over the swollen bead, his middle finger stroked
between my folds.

He was driving me insane with longing. Blistering heat
flushed my face, throbbing desire pulsed through my passage, and an ache of
restlessness had settled heavily in my pelvis.

“God, you’re sexy,” he whispered, his hand at my face
curling around the back of my head and coaxing me down to him.

I went willingly, dropping forward until my forehead rested
on his. Gradually, I opened my eyes, my vision hazy.

“Look at me,” he urged.

I blinked, trying to focus on him. His eyes were so
unwavering in their intensity that I felt helpless and vulnerable. My breath
was still coming hard and fast in my chest; I kept my gaze on him.

Leaving my clitoris bereft, his forefinger moved to join the
middle one and he gently pushed both until the tips slipped almost imperceptibly
inside me.

Instinctively, my eyelids drooped as I squirmed in an effort
to work him deeper.

He resisted. “Look at me,” he repeated, refusing to move.

I forced my eyes open and braced my hands on his shoulders.
As soon as my gaze met his once more, he tenderly pushed his fingers forward,
curling them as he went and stroking the front wall of my sex.

Sensing that the rules of the game meant he’d stop if I took
my focus from him, I continued to watch him. Finding his lips curling in a
smile, I offered a shaky grin in return.

“Hmm,” he hummed, his fingers questing deeper still. “You
feel so good, Mel.”

 Needing more, my trembling hands quickly descended to his
lap and began to unbuckle his belt. Leaving it loose at his waist, I unfastened
his pants and tugged down the zipper. He grunted in relief as his erection was
offered more space, but it was still firmly held within the confines of his
tight boxer briefs. Reaching between the fabric, I shyly wrapped my hand around
his shaft and gasped at the realization of just how large he was.

“You okay?” he asked lifting his face and placing his mouth
to mine in a quick but expressive kiss.

“Yes,” I replied, nodding.

Carefully, I eased him free of his underwear and beheld the
sight of him. His circumcised head was pink and glistening with arousal; the
shaft was almost completely straight with just the slightest curve that, in
that position, caused the bulbous tip to curl toward his belly. It was
incredibly thick, at least eight inches in length, and throbbing with a
winding, bulging vein.

Clasping him, I worked my hand back and forth, imagining the
vastness moving within me. He was considerably bigger than the men I’d been to
bed with and I wasn’t sure if I could comfortably accommodate him.

However, as his fingers suddenly left me and both hands
grabbed either side of my panties, the need to feel him was much greater than
my trepidation.

“I’ll buy you a new pair,” he muttered, before roughly
tearing the fabric in his hands and stripping it away from my body.

Uncaring about my underwear, I lifted my weight onto my knee
and shuffled forward. His manhood still in my hand, I held him steady, stroking
my warm folds over his tip and stopping when we were aligned.

Hesitantly, I pushed down slightly, breathing deeply as I
felt my body stretching. “Argh,” I gasped. Releasing his shaft, I grasped his
shoulders and, with tears forming in my eyes, I looked down at him. I wasn’t
aware of a desire to cry, it came upon me without warning. Sudden, powerful
emotions, coupled with the way his body widened me in its quest for entrance,
made me feel as though I was losing my virginity all over again. Only this
time, it was exactly as I had always imagined it would be. This was the kind of
sex that made women crave it.