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As Mr. Childs raised an eyebrow as if to remind me that he was the client here, that I was here to ser
ve him, I reached over and took the champagne flute from the table. With a trembling hand, I poured that sweet, bubbly liquid over my breasts. I felt it run down my chest and belly, down in to soak my lace panties, down my legs and into my shoes.
“Step closer,” Mr. Childs commanded.
As I obeyed, he reached out and put his hands on my bare backside, smiling just slightly. He pulled my lower half toward himself, his mouth opening as he leaned in to suck the champagne from between my legs.
Nudging my panties aside with his mouth, his tongue licked at my bare, wet pussy. I gasped, loudly, my nerves going haywire. This only made him more excited, and his lapping became more intense. I felt the buildup of orgasm as his tongue flicked at my champagne-soaked clit, and I found myself disappointed when he pulled away, licking the insides of my thighs, then moving back up to my belly.
When he pulled the lace of my bra away, exposing my heavy breasts, he gave me a snake’s smile. His tongue washed away the champagne, his teeth nipped at my taut nipples. I cried out again, partially surprised, confused, and aroused.
Mr. Childs laved every bit of champagne from my nearly naked body, his mouth talented and thirsty. So thirsty, in fact, that he asked for another glass of champagne that he had me pour over myself once more, but only after taking a sip. He kissed my lips for the first time, savoring the sweet liquid there before working down my body once more.
He buried his face in my cunt for the second time, his tongue licking at the folds, exploring the slick hole, sucking on the tiny budded clit. But he never let me come. He licked and sucked, bit and teased, and I cried out because I was so close that I no longer cared that this was way over the line of professionalism. I didn’t care that he was a stranger. I only cared about how his tongue felt all over my body.
“Your cunt tastes good,” he said as he finally pulls away, his face wet from champagne and saliva and my own juices. “Grab me a warm towel.”
Dazed and aching, my clit painfully enlarged and the need to come making it nearly impossible to walk, I somehow managed to waddle to the galley kitchen, where I prepared a hot towel to present to Mr. Childs.
He wiped his face and handed back the towel just as the Captain announced our final descent. I pulled on my dress, my body sticky from the champagne, and nearly fell into my seat.
My cheeks burned as Mr. Childs exited, thanking the pilot for a smooth landing. He reached out to shake my hand and there, again, was a wad of cash. I put it in my pocket and wished him a good day, watching his fit figure bound down the stairs to a waiting limousine.
The weight of the wad of bills in my pocket drove me crazy as I cleaned the kitchen and straightened the cabin. I worried about the champagne on the carpet, so much so that I asked Elite Air to steam clean the carpets before the next flight.
I knew what it was before I even counted. Two-thousand dollars.
Twin Fun
~Deleted Scene to Six Ways to Sin~
© 2017
By Cassandra Dee and Katie Ford
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CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Joanie
But Joanie soldiered ahead.
“So what can I do to make your flight more pleasurable?” she inquired, hands demurely folded in front of that simple navy dress.
“You can give us a striptease,” I said, smiling as I sat back in my cahir with my arms behind my head. My brother laughed in response as he watched the pink in her cheeks deepen even further.
She’d been through Damien and Charlie, and god only knows what they had already asked her to do. A striptease shouldn’t have been any big thing at all. But little Joanie’s blush spread from her cheeks to her chest. I would have bet money that her tits went pink, too, and I’d have given anything to see it in that moment.
She seemed to steel herself for a moment before she stood tall, her eyes closing as her hips began to sway. She moved to some unheard music, moving her body smoothly, hands lifting to her head, her little hat the first to be unpinned and tossed to the floor. She followed by undoing her braids, and when she was through, her hair fell in sexy waves down past the middle of her back. Gorgeous.
She’d obviously had a little bit of practice getting her dress unzipped, as she reached back and had it down in a hot second, turning slowly so that we could see the skin she’d bared, creamy and white, her red bra a pop of color against a blank canvas.
She dipped, her head going down, her ass in the air, wide, stretching against the fabric of her skirt. When she stood back up, still moving, she pulled the top of the dress from her shoulders, baring more of that smooth, porcelain skin.
I thought I might cream myself immediately when she let the rest of the dress fall away. It slipped to the floor, just a whisper of fabric as her abundant ass bared just the tiniest bit of lace to cover her crack.
“My mouth is watering,” Andrew said.
