3 BOOK BUNDLE: Flown By The Billionaire I, II, & III (6 page)

For a moment, I stood there with a muscle in my thigh
twitching violently. I listened to the sound of my own blood rushing in my ears
as my heart continued to pound with ferocious arousal that had come so close to
being sated.

“Nathan,” Alex’s voice reverberated from the plane’s main
cabin. “I thought you’d gone.”

“Yeah, I was just waiting for you. I wanted to apologize
again for earlier,” the young man’s voice responded.

“Oh, right,” Alex replied. “Well, as long as it doesn’t
happen again.” His tone was calm, confident. There was nothing about it that
would give away what we’d just been doing.

“Did you find your phone?” Nathan asked.

“No,” Alex sighed. “I don’t know where it could have got
to.”

“Hmm, do you want me to help?”

“No, no,” he quickly assured his colleague. “It’s fine, you
go on home.”

“Well, I’d like to apologize properly to Melissa before I
go,” Nathan explained. “Do you know where she is?”

Eyes widening in panic at the possibility of being caught in
my current lack of dress, I quickly bent down to pick up my skirt. As I
hurriedly and indecorously yanked my underwear up, I continued to listen
anxiously to their conversation.

“Umm, she’s in the bedroom. She wondered if my cell might be
in there.”

“Okay.”

“Wait,” Alex suddenly stated, and it was obvious to me that
Nathan had begun to walk through the plane. “I…umm,” he added, not sounding as
calm as he had before.

Checking myself quickly in the full length mirror on the
wall, I reached for the door handle and quickly opened it. “You were right,
it’s definitely not in there,” I said, with a breezy shrug of my shoulders.

Alex’s eyes met mine and something that looked like an
apology passed between us. “Thanks for looking anyway,” he nodded.

“Maybe you left it in Detroit,” Nathan suggested.

“Maybe,” Alex conceded with a nod, his gaze still firmly on
me.

I listened to Nathan make a much more sincere version of his
earlier apology, but my mind was fixated only on Alex.

“So…umm, are we heading back to the city?” Nathan blurted,
once he believed he’d made amends.

“Sure,” Alex replied, slowing turning to pick up his
briefcase.

I stepped forward, watching Nathan trot eagerly down the
steps.

Alex quickly turned his head over his shoulder. “I’m sorry,”
he whispered.

“Not your fault,” I replied, with a shake of my head.

“I’m going to Paris in three days,” he added, seemingly
apropos of nothing.

I nodded, but my eyebrows crinkled.

“I want you to come with me,” he explained hastily. “I don’t
just mean on the flight,” he added. “I mean, stay in Paris with me for the
week.”

“What?” I replied.

“You don’t have to decide right now,” he added, edging
toward the stairs and acknowledging the still-waiting Nathan with a nod. “Just
think about it,” he urged.

“Okay,” I replied, too shell-shocked to really take in what
he’d asked.

F
or the next two days,
I thought of precious little. Daydreams of the two of us being able to spend a
whole week together, going to sleep in his arms, and making love with him for hours
at a time. It was all too much for my raging libido to bear. And, of course,
there was the memory of what he’d done to me in the plane’s bedroom; those
precious moments that, had they not been interrupted, promised so much more.

In other words, I was in no fit state to make a logical
decision. Logic went to hell. And I went to Paris with Alex.

We were alone on the flight out, and I expected him to
pounce on me with the same pent-up desire with which I wanted to jump on him.
However, he invited me to sit down in one of the large reclining seats and then
disappeared toward the bar.

“Hey,” I called after him. “That’s what you pay me for.”

He chuckled, keeping his back to me as he strolled down the
length of the cabin.

Eventually, he came back with two foaming cappuccinos. He
handed one to me, “Careful, it’s hot,” he said, keeping a firm grip on the
other and lowering himself into the chair opposite me.

“Thank you,” I smiled. “But you really should have let me do
this.”

“It’s going to be a long flight,” he responded dismissively.
“You can make the other drinks.”

 We sat there for about an hour. It was almost exactly as it
had been during the first few weeks of my working for him. He asked me
questions about my childhood, my old job and my plans for the long-term future,
and I was surprised to note that he’d remembered everything I’d told him
before, even the inconsequential things.

And oddly enough, I found it easy to be open and honest with
him. I did not feel that I had to hold back or censor myself, for fear of
judgment. Somehow, I instinctively knew that whatever I said, no matter how
foolish it might seem, he would not laugh at me. Eventually, the conversation
turned to past relationships, and the questions became more intimate.

“You said when you were in college when you started to drift
away from your Catholic upbringing, was that because of a boyfriend?” He did me
the courtesy of phrasing it as a question, but there was a sense that my answer
was an inevitable one.

“Yes.”

“And he was your first?” he continued, conversationally.

“Yes,” I replied, nodding and ducking my eyes in
embarrassment.

“But it didn’t work out?”

“Umm,” I muttered. “No, we were together for a while, but…I
don’t know,” I shrugged. “Even though I knew what we’d done, what we were doing,
wasn’t wrong, I still felt…”

“Guilty?” Alex offered.

“I guess,” I replied. “Eventually, that guilt pushed us
further and further apart.”

“But, you enjoyed it?” Alex asked, propping his elbow on the
arm of his plush chair and pressing his forefinger to his temple.

“What?” I queried.

“Sex,” he explained.

 Just the word caused my cheeks to color, but not through
shame this time. “I…err…” I hesitated. “I enjoyed giving him pleasure.”

“That’s not quite the same thing,” he responded, smiling
softly.

“No, I guess not,” I admitted quietly, evading his eyes.

“And what about boyfriends since then?”

With a shallow sigh, I shook my head. “There have only been
a couple,” I told him honestly. “I think the problem was probably with me.”

“The guilt?” he offered.

“Yeah,” I breathed.

Alex turned thoughtful and quiet, leaning back in his chair.
I wondered if he was recalling the afternoon we’d made love and trying to
figure out whether I’d felt guilty about that, too.

“You can take the scarf off, if you want to,” he said, after
a moment of companionable silence.

“Huh?” I responded.

“The scarf,” he repeated, pointing at his own neck. “You
don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to. I mean, it’s only me here and I’m
pretty casual.”  He was dressed much more informally than usual. Dark blue
jeans were covering his legs, and a black button-down shirt was all he wore on
his upper half.

Without a word, I lifted the fingers of both hands to the
knot at the side of my throat and unfastened it. When the silk was hanging
loose either side of my neck, I pulled it free from me tossed it on the coffee
table to my left. “Well,” I sighed, realizing his eyes had been captivated by
my movement the whole time. Feeling a little embarrassed, I pushed up from the
seat. “I’ll…umm, just go and get something to eat,” I said, walking quickly
toward the small kitchen and bar.

Alex must have moved stealthily, because I did not notice
he’d also gotten out of his seat. I wasn’t aware of him following me until I
felt his hands at my hips, giving me a slow but powerful shove, causing my
lower abdomen to meet the edge of the bar.

I released a surprised breath, but before I could turn my
head, Alex had planted his face on my shoulder and was kissing his way up my
throat.

Mewling happily beneath his tender lips, I reached a hand
back and slowly stroked at the nape of his neck.

“Mel,” he mumbled, his words distorted because he refused to
remove his mouth from my skin, “I need you.” As he spoke, his hands were
already gripping the edge of my skirt.

The hunger in his voice, that raspy guttural grunt of
desire, sent spears of heat straight to my groin. “Take me,” I whispered,
feeling his big, steely erection prodding my buttock.

Unlike our other encounters, Alex did not take his time. He
yanked my skirt up in a frenzy of need, and tugged the panties down with the
same sexy voracity. His mouth continued to move over my neck, switching sides
every so often, as he bent me further forward over the bar.

I felt vulnerable with my bare ass sticking up and out for
him, but, at the same time, there was a sense of safety. Alex was draped over
me, and as I turned my face toward his, he claimed my lips sensually.

Meanwhile, his hands disappeared from my body, and I heard
the rasp of a zip, followed by the scratch of denim against denim. As he placed
his fingers back on my naked hips and began to push himself forward, we both
moaned into the other’s open mouth.

Although I knew exactly what to expect this time, his size
still caught me by surprise. I was slick with arousal, and he slid in easily
enough. Still, my eyes widened as he pushed a little further, and still
further, and then just a fraction more.

By the time he stilled, his lips tore from mine, as he
groaned and panted. I was mumbling nonsense and feeling as though he was about
to cleave me in two. He was ruining me for any other man, of that I was
certain.

It seemed as if he had eight hands, they moved so quickly
over me; stroking my back, my hips, my belly, then up to my breasts and cupping
them through the blouse and bra I was wearing. As his fingers moved restlessly,
apparently wanting all of my body at once, his hips began a gentle, shallow
thrust. It was just the slightest movement, sliding easily back and forth.

At first, I thought that soft motion wasn’t having any effect
on me, but I quickly realized it was. In its own subtle way, it was fanning the
flames. The pleasure was building gradually, making me sweaty, breathless and
fidgety. As I writhed beneath him, gripping the far edge of the bar with both
hands, I waited impatiently for him to give me what I needed. “Alex,” I
whimpered, pressing my burning cheek to the cool surface of the countertop. The
action made my buttocks press more firmly into his hips and changed the angle
of his entry. Now, as he carefully slipped leisurely to and fro, I felt his
manhood press against the front wall of my sex. An intense flood of warmth shot
through me, and I was unable to suppress the languid moan that started at the
very bottom of my lungs.

He leaned right over me, his lips caressing the back of my
neck and then the scalding cheek that was available to him. “Tell me what you
want,” he whispered, his breath tickling my ear and making me squirm.

Closing my eyes, bright spots danced in front of the lids.
“Alex, please,” I muttered, my lower half bucking unsuccessfully against his
strong frame.

“Say it,” he urged softly. “Tell me.”

“Urgh,” I groaned, every muscle rigid with tension.
“Harder,” I managed to whisper on a heavy exhalation. “Faster,” I added,
panting.

The weight and warmth of Alex’s upper body quickly left my
back, and his hands took a secure grasp of my waist. He breathed a deep,
masculine growl as his smooth hardness withdrew almost entirely from me.

Open-mouthed, I mewled with shallow heaves of air. And
suddenly, he was thrusting forward, burying himself within my body, his member
forcing its way aggressively until it was swallowed up to the hilt. I cried
out, my head lifting from the bar as I released a licentious scream of
pleasure. The entire length of my vagina throbbed and contracted with the
hammering of my heart. It sent waves of pleasure through my core and rushing to
every extremity.

Alex’s strangled breathing was coming fast and hard, his
fingers tensing and gripping me tighter still. “Is that what you wanted?” he
asked, his voice throaty.

“Ye…yes!” I squealed, trembling violently. “More,” I begged.

He didn’t need to be asked. He was already pulling his hips
back. As he slammed back into me, the soft, domed head of his manhood rubbed
violently against my front wall and I wantonly screamed, arching my back.

Panting and oblivious to anything except the sensations of
our bodies, we continued to move in rhythm. Using my hands to push myself away
from the bar, I met each of his thrusts with a reversed one of my own. Soon,
the motions were frenzied, frantic; spiraling out of control as we breathlessly
drove each other higher and higher.

Finally, with an eruption of intense heat that seemed to
explode both in my head and between my legs simultaneously, I parted my lips and
gripped the bar as though my life depended on it.

Alex’s grunts had taken on a different quality and, as my
climax hit, he gave one more powerful drive of his hips and groaned in tense,
agonizing pleasure.

My muscles flexing tightly seemed to milk his seed from him,
his warmth injecting into me with strong pulses of his shaft.

“Oh, God,” he muttered, the tension beginning to leave his
limbs as his body continued to spasm within mine. It was weaker than before,
but it was several seconds before he was completely spent.

“Argh,” I moaned happily, flopping forward on the counter.
This was sex like I’d never known. I adored the way he made love to me before;
I liked the fact he was capable of being gentle, and had allowed me control the
first time he entered me. However, there was something infinitely sexier about
this aggressive side of him. This time, we hadn’t made love; we’d fucked. And,
although that was something I’d thought I never wanted, I realized just how
mistaken I’d been.

“Are you okay?” he asked, one hand sweeping around my hip to
my belly and then creeping between my legs.

I giggled quietly, my head feeling much too heavy to lift.
“Better than okay,” I told him softly. “Much better.”