In Flight (21 page)

“Ones in public,” I said, taking a jab at his insistence that we meet only in private.

He made a tsking sound over the phone.
 
“My driver can take us.
 
I’ll turn the car into my office for the morning and get some work done while you do your shopping or whatever you need to do.”

I snorted.
 
“That’s silly.
 
I’ll just call you when I’m done.
 
I’m going with Stephan.”

“He can come.
 
I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if we used my car.
 
Just ask him.
 
Did you like your gift?”

His tactic to change the subject worked, and my eyes shot down to the exquisite watch on my wrist.
 

“It’s lovely.
 
I have your watch on one wrist, and your mark showing on the other,” I told him quietly, just knowing it would make him crazy.
 
The low rumble that bled into my ear was gratifying.
 
“But I can’t keep it.
 
I don’t know a thing about watches, but even I know this thing is way too expensive.”

His tone was firm and commanding when he responded.
 
“It’s a gift.
 
You need to pick your battles, Bianca, and you aren’t winning this one.
 
I won’t ask you to work for me or to let me support you again, but I’ll give you as many gifts as I damn well please.
 
The price of that watch is nothing to me, but picking out something that you think is lovely makes me very happy.”

I stewed that over for a long moment.
 
Could I just give in?
 
I mentally steeled myself to do so.
 
I was having sex with a man that had an obscene amount of money.
 
I was going to have to compromise sometime.
 
And I would just return anything he gave me when we stopped seeing each other.
 
That thought made the concession easier.
 

“Okay.
 
Thank you.
 
The dial is the color of your eyes.
 
Did you do that on purpose, so I would think about you all the time?”

He laughed, a relieved, joyous sound.
 
“I’ll use every dirty trick in the book to stay on your mind.
 
But that didn’t occur to me.
 
I like it, though.
 
Think about looking into my eyes as I make you come, every time you read the time.”

“Oh,” I breathed, caught up at the image.
 

“Are you wet?” he asked, his tone changing from playful to serious in an instant.
 
Moody bastard.
 

“Yes, Mr. Cavendish.”
 

“Are you alone?” he demanded.

I glanced to the front of the plane, then moved into the aft galley.
 
Stephan hadn’t moved, and there was no one else on the plane.
 

“Relatively.
 
I’m in the back galley, and Stephan is in first class.
 
Everyone else left the plane to get food.”

“Does that galley have a curtain?” he asked, almost idly.

“Mmhmm.”
 
My voice was a needy hum.
 

“Shut it behind you,” he ordered.
 
I shut it.
 
“Now lift up your skirt, and stroke the petals of your sex lightly.”
 
I gasped, but used one hand to obey.
 
I was tender to the touch but so wet from his voice that it still felt good.
 
“Now, slip two fingers in.”
 
I did, gasping.
 
“Does that hurt?”
 

“Yes, oh yes.
 
It’s very tender.”

“Oh, baby, I want to kiss it.
 
Pet yourself softly.
 
Keep it warm for me.”
 
His voice was getting rougher and rougher, and I wondered if he was touching himself.
 

I asked him.
 

“Yes,” he bit out.
 
“But I’m not going to jerk myself off.
 
I’m saving it all for you.
 
I’ll wait, even if you’re out of commission for a few days.
 
Stop touching yourself now.
 
You’re such a hair trigger, and I don’t want you coming until you see me again.”
 

I complied, making a little sound of protest in my throat.
 

“I need to keep my cock out of you for a few days while you heal up, but there are plenty of other things we can still do.
 
I’ll eat you out until you beg me to stop.
 
And I have this fantasy about coming between your lovely tits.
 
You won’t be sorry that I insisted on coming to your house tonight, I promise.”

I made a little noise in my throat.
 
Whether it was a sound of agreement or frustration, I couldn’t say.
 

“What day do you fly back to New York?” he asked after my breathing had calmed.
 
He sounded as though we’d been talking about nothing particularly personal just moments before.
 

Mercurial son of a bitch
, I thought.
 

“Thursday night.
 
I have three days off after today, but I need to pick up at least one more shift like the one we’re working today, probably on Wednesday.”
 

He made a sound of disapproval, but just said.
 
“So you have two days off after today?”
 

“Yeah.
 
When do you head back to New York?”

“Thursday night.”
 

“Oh.”
 
I was surprised.
 
“On my flight?”

“Yes.
 
The redeye, correct?”

“Yeah, same as last week.
 
How long can you keep doing that?” I asked, referring to his recent habit of following me around the country.

“Well, I have good people working for me, so I should be able to get away with it for a time.
 
I can work wonders with just a phone and a computer nowadays.
 
There are a few perks to being the boss.
 
And desperate times call for desperate measures.”

“Desperate times?” I questioned.

“Oh, yes.
 
You make me absolutely desperate, Bianca.
 
I had never stalked a woman before I met you.
 
I’m carrying a sliced up pair of your panties in my pocket right now.”

I was afraid to even ask him about that.
 

I heard voices, and glanced between the curtains.
 
The crew had returned, toting bags of food and coffee.
 

“The crew is back,” I told him, readjusting my skirt and then the curtain to how it had been.
 
“I probably need to go.”

He made a frustrated sound in my ear.
 
“Call me when you get back in Vegas,” he told me.
 
He cursed.
 
“The waiting will make me crazy.”

“Bye,” I said, hanging up quickly as Brenda approached the aft galley.
 
She looked surprised to see me there.
 

I held up my phone.
 
“Just taking a call.
 
I have a tendency to pace while I talk on the phone.”

She smiled.
 
“I do that too.
 
You might still have time to go grab something in the airport, if you hurry.
 
They’re estimating an hour and a half delay now.”
 

I groaned.
 

She sat in her jump seat, pulling a sandwich out of a paper bag.
 
She waved the sandwich.
 
“This place is good.
 
It’s right across from the gate.”

I nodded a thanks, and started towards the front of the plane.
 

My phone beeped a texting noise at me.
 
I looked at the screen.
 
I sat down in one of the main cabin seats to read.

James:
 
Hanging up on me will earn you a punishment as well.
 

Bianca:
 
Sorry.
 
Instinctive reaction to seeing coworkers in the middle of a kinky conversation.
 
Are you going to punish me tonight, then?

James:
 
No.
 
You’re off the hook until I’m sure that you’ve recovered from all of the hard fucking we did last night.
 
Did you like the crop?
 

Bianca:
 
I’m partial to the crop.
 
How many lashes will I get for hanging up on you?

James:
 
10.

Bianca:
 
I love the crop, but I want you to use what
 
you want on me.
 
I want to please you.

James:
 
You do.
 
Don’t doubt it.
 
And I will use what I want on you.
 
I can’t wait to get you into my New York apartment.
 
I have a playground for us there.
 

Bianca:
 
Your bedroom in Vegas seemed like a playground

James:
 
It was just a taste, Buttercup.

I didn’t know what to say after that, so I put my phone in the pocket of my vest, heading back to the front of the plane.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Mr. Possessive

When all was said and done, we didn’t leave DC until we had well over a three hour delay on our hands.
 

Eventually, Stephan and I did get off of the plane briefly to grab ourselves a sandwich and a cup of good coffee.
 
The plane coffee was drinkable, but only if nothing better was available.
 

I saw the man from 1A still hanging out near our gate.
 
I nodded at him politely, but thought it odd that he was still there.
 
We were delayed, but he was already at his destination.
 

What was he doing, still hanging out at the gate hours after we’d arrived
?
 

He was speaking to another man who was near to a carbon copy of himself.
 
They were roughly the same size, both with dark hair, and even wearing similar suits and ties.
 
They reminded me so much of law enforcement that I nudged Stephan with my elbow.
 

“We getting air marshals on the flight?”
 

He followed my gaze, sizing up the large men.
 
He shook his head.
 

“If we are, I haven’t been informed of it yet.
 
And with the delay, I can’t imagine I wouldn’t know by now.
 
They sure do look like FAMs, though.
 
Probably just traveling FBI agents or something.”

That made sense, so I put it from my mind.
 

However, I almost bumped into them as I picked up my sandwich order.
 
They had been in line behind me, and I hadn’t even known.
 

I nodded politely at them as I passed by.
 
They both nodded back, one of them with a phone to his ear.
 

“Fine, Sir, she’s just fine.
 
No problems at all.
 
Yes, Sir,” he was saying.

We headed back to the plane after we’d gathered our goodies.
 
The crowd that we passed was large and restless.
 
Delays never made for a pleasant flight.
 
There was nothing any of us could do about the weather, but a lot of the passengers would feel personally wronged for the inconvenience, and tempers would not be in our favor on the long flight home.
 
I took the thought in stride.
 
It was all part of the job.

It was a relief to finally take off and have something to do aside from waiting and checking my phone for messages.
 

James hadn’t texted me again.
 
Finally, about an hour before departing, I’d just turned my phone off, so I would quit checking.

The first three hours were a busy blur of activity.
 
The man in 1A had been replaced by the man he had been speaking with in the airport.
 
He behaved in a nearly identical manner, even eating similarly, taking all the food we served, and drinking only water.
 
Once, he deviated, ordering a black coffee, but that was the only difference in the passengers.
 

Stephan noticed the odd Agent exchange as well.
 
“The guy who was in 1A is in the back of coach now.
 
Which is where this guy sat on the last flight.”
 

I gave him wide eyes.
 
“Should we be worried?”

He grimaced.
 
“It is odd.
 
But they are very calm and well behaved, so far.
 
If that changes, I’ll talk to the pilots.
 
Who knows, maybe they were delivering something in DC.
 
Or picking something up.”

We had a small break, then got busy again.
 
I was just securing my last cart when I felt the wheels of the plane coming down for landing.
 

“Come on, Bee,” Stephan told me, already buckled in.
 
His voice held a faint plea.
 
It always made him nervous if I pushed it and buckled in last minute.
 
Mr. Safety.

I had told him about James’s plan to drive us on our errands in the morning.
 
He’d seemed excited about the idea, which was a relief.
 
If Stephan liked James, it made everything easier.
 
No matter how short a time the arrangement lasted.