“You’re an elite athlete, you have an unfair advantage,” she gives in a little and bites my earlobe.
“Again, no complaints were had earlier.” I bring my hands around to her front and run my thumbs around her nipples. The hotel brought up a lacy red bra in the shopping bag for her, shame it’s not likely to survive the next few thousand miles.
“No complaints. Five star review. Would do business again.”
“Get these bloody pants off,” I pull at the stupid stiff fabric.
Mallory stands in the aisle way and checks the cabin door with a pause as she unbuttons and starts to unzip. “Off,” I repeat. No worries, by the time seven months is up she’ll be well versed in airplane sex etiquette.
She unzips the jeans and pushes them over her hips, matching little red panties popping into view just before she steps out of the pants. I hope I tipped the concierge enough for going the extra mile with his lingerie selections. Grabbing the hem of my shirt she’s wearing, she pulls it up and over her head, tossing it on the recliner’s table behind her.
God damn, she’s beautiful. Perfect feminine curves, hips to grab on to, those soft, warm tits and an ass I want in my hands at all times.
She cups her mound with one hand, “be nice to my poor vagina.”
I have every intention of being nice, very nice, to that impeccable treasure she’s offering me. I stand up and tower over her for a moment, taking it all in and letting her simmer. Taking a seat back in the oversized recliner, I pat the table in front of me. Her eyes go back and forth between me and the table for a split second deducing how she’s going to be indoctrinated into the mile high club.
She lifts her hips onto the table and I situate her in front of me like a five-course meal at the finest Michelin Star restaurant. But this is far better. Far more real.
“Lean back,” I tell her as I scoot her to the end of the table. She leans backward, pointing her hard nipples toward the sky and putting one hand on the fuselage of the plane for balance.
I wrap my hands under her legs and around her thighs and watch her eyes as I descend upon her, kissing and licking her through the red lace she’s already soaked through. I slide the scrap of fabric to the side and let one finger slide up and down her slick channel, watching her ribs rise and lower as her breathing picks up.
And then my mouth is where it belongs, feasting on her pussy, lapping her gently and letting her set the pressure by pushing against me. “Ok?” I ask, not wanting to hurt her.
“Don’t stop,” she whispers.
Game on.
I curl my tongue deep inside her, dragging out every bit of sweet honey she’s giving me before I swirl around her clit. Big circles, little circles, I flick her nub over and over until she’s panting and moaning and squirming on the table before me.
“Lennox,” she cries.
As hard as it gets me when she screams my name, the flight crew is going to think I’m murdering her if she keeps it up. I stretch one hand up to cover her mouth when her purrs and whimpers become out of control. She sucks my finger into her mouth, swirling around it, holding my wrist so her lips can twirl around and around from my knuckle to the tip.
Her foot goes to my thigh for leverage and she jerks her hips off the table. She runs her teeth down my finger and I pull my hand back before she bites the fucking thing off. She’s wild, writhing and bucking her pelvis against me. As fiery as she is when she’s fighting with me, she’s red-hot combustible when I’m making her come. It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.
“Oh god, yes, right… right there, don’t you dare fucking stop,” she pants as her thighs start to quake and her chest arches, her long neck stretched back, chestnut hair cascading down below her. Sensing her impending explosion I throw a hand back over her mouth and she clamps down on my knuckles then spasms and jerks into my face as hard as she can. I slow and run my tongue all around her folds as her hips settle back onto the table and she leans forward running her fingers through my hair.
I give her bare perfection a few more kisses before I lean back into the recliner and revel in the post-orgasm flush that covers her chest, the blissful look of contentment on her face. “Was I nice enough to your poor vagina?”
“Mmmm,” she rolls her head to stretch her neck then climbs into my lap on the recliner. “My vagina has never been so happy.”
I wrap a hand around her knees, her calves hanging over the side of the chair, “Is that so?” Doesn’t matter how much confidence or swagger I act like I have, I want her validation.
She puts her fingers on my chin, “You fuck me like I have always wanted to be fucked.”
My eyebrows arch, was not expecting that. I’ll take it. “Remember to leave a review, Dick-on-Demand is a new business venture.”
“I’ll make it a Facebook page,” she laughs, burrowing into my chest.
“Jesus, that’s all I need.” I gather her into my arms and deposit her on the couch, heading into the bathroom to get cleaned up. On my way out I hand her a wet towel and gather up the blankets and pillows. This isn’t the long-range jet with sleeping quarters so the couch will have to do.
I lie down against the back and tug her up tight against me, covering us up as best I can and keeping an arm around her to she doesn’t fall off if we hit turbulence. My head’s resting on a pillow and Mallory’s is resting on my curled bicep.
Her breathing slows within minutes. The last time I spent two nights with anyone, I thought I’d be winning my next world championship and I’d eventually be marrying Kate. Glad I escaped the latter, the first I have no idea how to fix. I kiss Mallory’s head, tug her in close, and push the thoughts away as I drift off.
Seventeen