I narrow my eyes at him. “I thought we’re in a hurry.”
His lips are close to mine now. “We are.”
I pat his crotch in a consoling manner. “Well, grab your package and save it for later. We need to get moving.”
Then I walk past him to get my laptop.
He laughs. “Well played.”
“Of course,” I say over my shoulder.
I love winning… even if it’s just temporarily.
As it turns out, I got that ride in the limo after all.
“Where are we going?” I ask Grant as the limo cruises through the warm LA sunshine.
“New York.”
I stare at him. “What?!”
“My base of operations is there. All my people are there. It’s a lot more secure than where I’m staying in LA.”
“Why didn’t you tell me we were going to New York?!”
He looks mystified. “I told you we were going to be moving around.”
“Yeah, but – I thought you meant between Santa Monica and Hollywood!”
He laughs. “I want to keep you guessing.”
“You’re certainly doing
that
,” I mutter, then get down to business. “Okay, what are we going to do now? Go over your plan? Try to formulate… a…”
He’s smiling and giving me bedroom eyes.
“Oh no,” I say, and shake my head. “NO.”
He leans in for a kiss.
I have a moment of almost-weakness, but I back away at the last instant. “No means no. En Oh. NO.”
“Why not?” he asks, amused.
“Well, for one, because I don’t want your chauffeur knowing what we’re doing.”
“There’s a partition,” Grant says, pointing to the wall separating us from the driver. “He can’t see back here. He can’t even hear unless we use the intercom. So just don’t hit the button accidentally in the throes of ecstasy.”
He leans forward again –
I fend him off. “What about the crazy person sending you death threats?!”
“What about him?”
“‘What about him’?! He’s trying to kill you!”
Grant shrugs. “Well, there’s not much we can do in the back of a limo.”
“There’s
plenty
we can do. We can – ”
“I like the way you think.”
“I didn’t mean it like
that
.”
“Suuure you didn’t,” he whispers, and leans in again.
This time I just give up and let him kiss me.
Oh God.
Those lips.
The taste of his mouth…
The thought of what he could
do
to me with that mouth…
But I break away.
“There’s plenty we can do about the
case
in the back of a limo – the
case!”
“What case?”
“The case you hired me for!”
God, even though he was extremely hot, he could be aggravating when he wanted something.
Like me.
Then I think,
This guy wants me… in the back of his limo… and I’m saying no?
“Aw, screw it,” I mutter, and lean in and plant one on him.
He kisses me for a few seconds, then leans back and grins. “That’s the spirit.”
I’m about to go in for another when the limo stops. I look out the window and see an airport landing strip with hangars and lots of small jet airplanes.
“…but we’ll have to save it for the plane,” he says as he takes my hand, opens the door, and pulls me outside.
As we get out of the limo, the driver goes around to the trunk and gets out my bag.
“See that her things get onboard, Simon,” Grant calls out.
“Yes sir, Mr. Carlson,” the driver says.
Then we’re walking along the tarmac towards a private jet with its boarding door down.
“Wait – what’s going on?” I ask, confused.
“We’re flying to New York,” Grant says.
“Yeah, but – on that?”
“What else do you want to fly on?”
“I’m used to airlines. You know, 747s?”
“We’re fresh out of those. You’ll just have to make due with a Gulfstream.”
He leads me up the steps into the main cabin. A man in a pilot uniform and a woman in a stewardess-type outfit both greet him by name.
“Mr. Carlson.”
“Hello, Mr. Carlson.”
“Hello, Ivan. Hi, Miriam. How soon can we be in the air?”
“Five minutes, Mr. Carlson.”
“Wonderful. Bring me a drink and get some food ready for lunch.” Grant turns to me. “You want anything?”
“What?” I ask stupidly.
“To drink.” Rather than waiting for the answer, he turns back to the stewardess. “Champagne for both of us.”
“Yes sir,” she smiles, and moves towards the front compartment.
Grant walks through the main cabin, guiding me by the hand. We pass a bunch of leather seats and tables, even a flat-screen TV, and enter a back room – where there is a bed, a bathroom with a shower in it(!), and more chairs and a table.
“You have a bed?” I ask in shock.
“I do… but first things first. We have to strap in for takeoff.”
First things first,
I inwardly grumble.
Overconfident jerk…
We sit on a plush leather loveseat next to each other and put on the safety belts.
The stewardess appears in the doorway with a tray and two glasses of champagne.
“Ah, thank you, Miriam.” Grant takes the glasses and hands one to me as the woman disappears back into the main cabin, shutting the door behind her. “A toast – to outwitting psychopaths.”
“Okay,” I say, still stunned that five minutes ago I was in a limo. Thirty minutes before
that
I was in my humdrum, regular apartment.
The pilot comes over the intercom and gives updates, just like on a regular airline flight. Then we taxi onto the runway.
“Down the hatch,” Grant says, and drinks the rest of the champagne in his glass. I follow suit, and within sixty seconds the plane takes off.
After we climb high enough to level off, Grant undoes his safety belt. Before I can undo mine, his lips are on my mouth, giving me a long, hard kiss.
“Now where were we?” his voice rumbles seductively.
He flips the safety belt latch, and then he’s kissing me again. One hand is on my breast, softly caressing my nipple through my blouse and bra.
“No… they’ll hear us…” I moan.
“This part of the cabin is soundproof.”
“But the door…” I gasp as I pull away.
“What about it?”
“Anybody could come in!”
“I thought you liked the danger of getting caught. You seemed to the first night,” he grins.
I blush scarlet. “Lock it,” I insist.
Grant walks over to the door, clicks the lock, and looks back.
Satisfied?
“Thank you,” I mutter.
“You’re welcome,” he says as he sits down, and then his hand is on my leg as he kisses me again.
His hand slowly moves up the inside of my thigh, under my skirt. He begins to stroke me through my panties, making me even wetter than I already am.
“Take off your underwear, but leave everything else on,” he instructs me.
A tingle goes through me as I stand up, pull the edges of my skirt up, and shimmy my legs as I pull down my panties. They fall around my ankles and I step out of them.
“Sit down again,” he commands me.
I do, and his hand is between my legs again as he kisses me. His fingers are skilled; within seconds he’s wet the tip of his index finger with my juices and is massaging the hood of my clit.
I stifle a moan as he starts circling my clit, getting it wet, turning me on even more. His fingers part my lips and gently stroke inside me, then go back to my clit and all around it, then back inside me, repeating the cycle five, ten, twenty times. My legs are trembling now, and the first orgasm is building in my pussy. I grip his arms with my hands, feeling his hard muscles under my fingers, as the first waves of ecstasy roll through my legs and belly.
I cry out and lean forward, almost overcome.
“Jesus,” he mutters, his voice low and savage. Suddenly he backs up, grabs my legs, and pulls them up onto the leather loveseat.
In a split second I go from sitting upright to lying on my back.
“What – ?” I manage to get out, before I figure out
exactly
what he’s up to.
He’s kneeling on the floor at the end of the loveseat. He pulls my skirt up until it’s bunched at my waist, then forces my legs apart and puts his head between my thighs.
His tongue, soft and wet and warm, starts lapping at my clit. His lips encircle it and gently suck. His tongue pushes between my lips and enters inside me, making me yearn for something bigger and thicker – and then he goes back to licking my clit.
“OH GOD,” I cry out as I start coming again.
I arch my back and press myself into his mouth. My whole body is on fire – pleasurable fire. Waves of heat are rolling through me.
Suddenly his mouth pulls away. I’m disappointed, until I look down and see he’s wetting his first two fingers with his mouth.
Seconds later his tongue is massaging my clit again. At the same time, I can feel his fingers softly pushing apart my lips and slipping inside me.
There is the sensation of something filling me up as he licks my pussy… and then he starts caressing me from inside, his fingers curled in a ‘come hither’ motion, stroking my g-spot as he sucks and licks and swirls his tongue around my clit.
My legs have a mind of their own. One is up over his shoulder, my high heel shoe on his back; my other leg is off the loveseat, angled as far out as possible to give him as much room as he needs to lick me.
My head is flung back over the opposite end of the loveseat, my hair hanging onto the floor. I’m gripping
his
hair with my hands, forcing him harder and firmer into my pussy, wanting more pressure, more
everything.
As the orgasmic contractions die down again, suddenly his fingers and mouth withdraw. I’m disappointed – until I see him stand and start tearing off his clothes, flinging off his jacket, unbuttoning his shirt as fast as he can. There’s a look of intense, searing passion on his face as he stares into my eyes.
The windows of the airplane cabin are wide open, and golden sunshine is pouring in. For the first time, I can see his body completely.
He’s absolutely gorgeous.
His muscles ripple under golden skin. His shoulders are broad, his chest and arms are massive. His abs look like they were chiseled out of stone.
I start ripping off my blouse and skirt just as fast as he’s undressing.
His pants come off last. I gasp when I see his erection spring out of his boxers. He’s rock hard – a thick, pink cock straining up towards the sky. I can see the swollen head is wet with pre-cum. A bead of it glitters in the sunlight.
Then he grabs my legs and pulls me violently towards him so my ass is on the edge of the loveseat. He kneels again, takes his cock in his hand, angles it towards my pussy – and with one long, wet stroke, he slides inside me.
I cry out in ecstasy. It’s so hard – I can feel it pressing firmly against me from the inside. And he’s so thick that he fills me up. And so long that I can feel him touching places inside me no other man has ever reached.
He begins to fuck me. Not make love… not rock back and forth gently or softly or romantically. He’s
fucking
me. Like an animal in heat. That same look of pain stays on his face as he plunges inside me, over and over, his body grinding against mine as he thrusts deep inside me, his balls slapping my ass as his cock fills my pussy.
I scream and whip my head back and forth in agonized pleasure. It’s almost more than I can take – something that big, that pleasurable, and this animal frenzy he’s in. This animal frenzy he’s got me in – because I
want
to be fucked. I want it hard, and deep, and thick. There’s no good little girl here anymore, shy about who might hear her. There’s only a woman who needs, who
craves
that amazing cock, who lusts for the godlike body towering over her, thrusting inside her. And his face – his gorgeous face, with those liquid brown eyes and that look of pained need, that suffering that can only be quenched by being inside me.
“Fuck – fuck – fuck – ” he starts bellowing.
“Oh God, I’m coming, I’m coming,” I scream.
“I’m going to pull out – ”
“No, don’t!”
“I’m too close – ”
“I have an IUD – don’t stop – come inside me,” I beg him. “Come inside me!”
That’s all it takes to push him over the edge. He roars, and suddenly his cock is pulsing inside me – big, thick jolts of pressure between my lips. I can feel hot spurts of liquid inside me and I claw his back and scream as I come even harder.
Ten seconds later he’s lying on top of me, utterly spent. I can still feel the aftershocks of his orgasm as he pulses every five or six seconds… smaller versions of the massive contractions I felt inside me earlier.
I drift down from my cloud of pleasure and sigh.
He lifts his head. The look of animalistic pain is gone; instead, he’s grinning again.
“Welcome to the Mile High Club.”
I smack him playfully on the shoulder. He kisses me, and starts moving in and out of me again. He’s still plenty hard, and I’m still
very
wet. We stay like that for another five minutes, him slowly rocking in and out of me, us kissing slowly, sensually, enjoying each other’s bodies after the massive avalanche of bliss we’ve just experienced.
We’re lying in the bed now, side by side, drinking more champagne and eating a selection of fruits and cheeses. I was so embarrassed when the stewardess brought it that I hid in the bathroom – but now that we’re alone, I’m enjoying every bite.
“We need to talk about how we’re going to find this guy,” I say.
“So tell me,” Grant says. He’s lying on his stomach but he’s still quite distracting, with his golden skin and rippling muscles of his back. And his ass is out of this world. I mean…
daaamn.
It’s this curve of powerful muscle. Not quite a bubble butt, but just about there.
Very
distracting.
Yet I manage to pull my eyes away and concentrate. “What did your people say about the texts?”