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Holding my breath, I watch PJ take in the helicopter’s interior. From the way her eyes go wide, I can see she was expecting something more like a barebones news rig. This one has polished wood interior, plush gray carpet, seats wrapped in butter-soft white leather, and a separate cabin where the pilot sits.
Instead of making a crack about the luxe conditions, PJ shrugs and rolls her eyes. “I flew in one of these yesterday. Whatevs.”
Our pilot gives us headsets, which blunt the noise of the rotors and allow us to talk to each other, but I’m more concerned with hurrying things along.
I lean over to secure PJ’s headset and signal to the pilot to lift us into the air. The faster we get out of here, the less damage to the idyllic scene around us, which I’ve been disrupting for a week and a half with my presence.
Flipping the switch on the headsets, I tune us to a channel only we can hear, knowing the pilot is probably listening to air traffic control dispatches on his channel. If he needs to communicate anything, he’ll give me a wave through the glass, and I’ll switch back to his channel. It’s a protocol I established the first time I rode in one of these so I could use the time in the air to conduct business. I needed to be certain that any important conversations weren’t overheard.
Hearing PJ talk about information leaks proved why my paranoid instincts were right. People are always listening, and there’s no guaranteeing who can be influenced to share some juicy tidbits with a reporter.
“I feel like such a jerk. Does the wind from the helicopter damage the grapes?” Surely, Archer would have told me if it was a problem.
She slides closer to me on the seat and talks into the headset. “It’s okay. We get high winds out there sometimes. The grapes are hearty.”
For the first few minutes of the short flight, we alternate pointing out landmarks as we fly over them—the Vallejo wildlife refuge, the Golden Gate Bridge, the clock tower on the UC Berkeley campus.
I opt against telling PJ just how sexy she looks, sitting primly with her legs crossed on the high-backed seat. I decide not to tell her how desperate I am to slide her legs apart and spend my time between them. But I could show her…
She’s looking out the window as we fly over the southern end of San Francisco, right over Oracle Park, where the San Francisco Giants are playing a day game. With my arm wrapped around her shoulders, I pull her closer to me, angling her back so it’s resting against my chest.
Sliding my fingers across the warm skin of her bare legs, I gently lift the upper leg off the bottom one so both of her feet are on the floor. When I slide my hand higher on the delicate flesh of one inner thigh, her eyes shoot to mine.
“Relax,” I mouth to her, watching her struggle to steady her breathing.
“Here?” she asks, eyes flaming with warning and excitement.
I shake my head slowly and move her so she’s leaning against me again. “Not gonna fuck you in the back of a helicopter with the pilot two feet away,” I growl into the headset. “But he needsto keep his eyes on the skies, so what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him…”
My hand moves farther up her thigh, and her body relaxes into mine. A tiny hint of a sigh hits my ears through the headset, and my heartbeat ratchets up in my chest. I want to rock her world. If she’s never sat on a man’s face, then for damn sure, she’s never had an orgasm in a helicopter, and I want to be her fucking first for everything.
I can get awfully far like this, with her seated right next to me, legs parted just a bit. I can probably get her off with a finger or two. The pilot will be none the wiser.
But I want more. When I first looked at stars and planets through a telescope, I didn’t see something out of reach. I saw a goal. And I imagined how I could get there.
So I know there’s a way to stay out of our pilot’s sightlines and give PJ everything I want her to have right now. Up in the sky, hovering over the world.
Leaning forward, I brush her cheek with my lips. I let my tongue draw circles against the soft skin of her neck until I hear a quiet moan. It comes straight into my ears through the clear channel of the headset, and the sound of her pleasure shoots straight to my dick. I don’t need to study physics to understand the connection between those straight trajectories.
Edging her legs farther apart, I rub a finger against her core, feeling how wet she already is through her panties. “I know you wore this dress for me with this in mind, didn’t you?” I keep my voice low, talking through the headset. The connection is so intimate despite the loud noise just outside our bubble.
She sucks in a breath as I push the flimsy whisp of lace aside. I’m desperate to touch her. “Are you wet because you like the helicopter?” I can’t keep my cheeky grin in check, and she elbows me.
“No.”
“What’s that?”
I slide my finger through her slick folds and watch her eyes drift shut.
“No,” she pants.
“Why are you so goddamn wet, Junebug?”
Another sigh. “Because I like you.”
I nod, brushing the curve of her neck with my lips and kissing the underside of her jaw. Each time I kiss her, I nudge the headset aside, but it’s annoying the shit out of me, so I break off the mouthpiece and fling it to the floor. I can give her all the dirty talk she wants when we get to my office, but right now, I intend to use my mouth to devour her.
Sliding to the floor, I know I’m out of the pilot’s line of sight. I’ve never been more grateful for a private luxury helicopter, and I intend to make good use of the ample floor space in front of PJ’s chair. I’m effectively blocking her from view on the chance the pilot looks back. But he won’t. He’s in charge of flying a billionaire client, and he’s not about to jeopardize that by losing focus. Even for a second.
