He’s aware of my liquor of choice as he’s been on my payroll the past year, although his name is evading me right now. My head is already in the impenetrable cloud only Isabelle can entice, but the steward’s gawking stare at my wife’s legs is worsening my urge to bang my chest like a macho idiot. Clearly, not even marriage is a cure for my jealousy.
After jerking up my chin, agreeing with the flight attendant’s selection, I hand him my suit jacket to store. When his eyes lock with mine, I give him a look, one I’m certain even someone as ill-mannered as he can’t misread.
A ghost of a smirk touches my lips when his eyes fall to the floor before his throat works hard to swallow. I didn’t speak, yet he’s more than aware I’ll have no hesitation in following through with my unspoken threat. Isabelle’s short dress shows off a lot of leg, but that motto, ‘you can look but can’t touch,’ doesn’t abide well with me. One more inappropriate glance at my wife’s legs will have him lining up for unemployment benefits—after we’ve had a word in private.
“Will that be all, Mr. Holt?” He impresses me when his voice only comes out with the slightest quiver. I don’t need to hear his fear to know he’s scared. His thighs are shaking as much as Isabelle’s knees did when she climbed the stairs of the jet.
With my annoyance on the down-low, I shift on my feet to face Isabelle. “Would you like something to drink?”
Isabelle stops taking in the highly-varnished wood trim and white leather seats to peer back at me. The configuration of this jet is slightly different from the one we generally utilize. The floor space is almost double the size of our standard aircraft.
We commonly use this plane when we’re attempting to lure investors to Ravenshoe. The flashier we are with their transport and accommodation, the more money they’re willing to invest in the town Colt Enterprises is quickly turning into a metropolis.
When Isabelle notices the steward standing at my side, holding my coat, she grasps the words she didn’t hear me speak. “Nothing for me, thank you.”
Unaware of the tension brewing between the flight attendant and me, she plops into the reclining chair closest to the window before hunting for her belt. She’s shaking all over, the most unhinged I’ve seen her.
“Are you sure you don’t want something to take the edge off?”
With the thin belt halfway across her stomach, Isabelle glances up at me. The undeniable look of lust is brightening her beautiful chocolate eyes, and her cheeks are hued, exposing who she’s planning to use to curb her debilitating fear of flying. Me.
The longer she stares at me, the stronger my urge to claim her becomes. I’m desperate to taste her again, to have her screaming my name. The need to dominate her is so headstrong, it is taking everything I have not to carry her into the bedroom right now.
I wouldn’t hesitate if she were the only female seeking aide from me this afternoon. My arm doesn’t need to feel the sting of Callie’s nails to guide her through her fear, but she does need my eyes and the silent promise they bring that she’ll always be safe when she’s with me.
Callie loses me from her sight for the quickest second when the steward places my glass of whiskey onto the table between mine and Isabelle’s seats, his eyes not once veering anywhere near my wife’s legs. “Will that be all?”
I step to the right to ensure Callie can still see me before requesting for him to advise Scout we’re ready to go. Scout is my lead pilot. He works solely for me and now Isabelle.
“Yes, Mr. Holt. Right away.”
As he skedaddles to the front of the plane, I keep my eyes locked on Callie. She’s almost asleep. The soothing lulls of the jet’s engines as it warms up for takeoff are as rhythmic to her as the rolls of my Bugatti’s tires over asphalt. That’s how Isabelle and I settled her the first two weeks in Ravenshoe. We took her on nighttime drives throughout the untouched hills dividing our residence from Cormack’s. It worked every single time—as it does now.
Callie is asleep just before the plane jerks toward the runway. Her timing couldn’t be more perfect. With her panic subdued, I can shift all my focus to Isabelle.
The heady scent of lust captivates me when I fill the empty seat next to Isabelle before placing my hand on her thigh. The spark of attraction between us is so intense, a zap darts up my arm before it lowers to thicken my cock.
A growl rumbles in my chest when I trace a figure-eight pattern on the skin high on Isabelle’s thigh. She’s not wearing any panties, meaning my pinkie grazes the soft cleft of her pussy with every circular pattern I do.
When I brush my hand down Isabelle’s warm slit, seeking confirmation on how wet she is, her grip on the armrests firms. She’s drenched, her recent waxing leaving nothing to absorb the wetness my meekest touch instigates. She’s slick and hot, and my cock seeps with precum just at the thought of making her come where she sits. Her pussy has been bare and waiting for me all day. It would be cruel to make her wait a second longer.
Isabelle’s eyes adopt a sleepy look when I give her clit a quick tap with the back of my fingers. She’s not tired. Her eyes are hooded with unmistakable yearning.
“Please, Isaac,” she breathes out heavily, wiggling in her seat. “I need you.”
The swivels of her hips raise the flare of her dress enough she exposes her pussy to my more-than-avid eyes. She’s aching with so much need, I only need to part her lips the slightest bit to see the nub I’m obsessed with. It’s pulsating with desire, like I’ve been teasing it relentlessly the past twenty minutes.
After straying my eyes to the flight attendant, who’s buckling himself in, in preparation for takeoff, I return them to Isabelle’s pretty pink pussy. It’s so lovely. Smooth. Wet.Mine.
“Not a peep, Isabelle. If you make a single murmur, I will withdraw contact. Do you understand?” When she nods without pause for thought, I reiterate, “Not a sound. I love every moan that shreds from your throat, but those aremyscreams.”
After a second nod, Isabelle digs her heels into the plush carpet lining the jet’s floor before raising her ass off the seat, seeking closer contact with the hand I’m incapable of removing from between her legs. I stroke her pussy three times before adjusting the tilt of my hand so I can sink two fingers inside of her.
My teeth grow envious when she bites her lower lip to stifle a moan. I don’t need to hear her pleasure to know of its existence, though. I can see it in the rise and fall of her chest and feel its vibrations on the tips of my fingers when they brush her uterus. She wants to scream but is aware her submissiveness will be well-rewarded.
When the walls of her vagina clamp around me, a rough groan leaves my mouth. Her pussy sucks at my fingers, hardening my cock to the point it’s painful. It’s frustrated my fingers are surrounded by her heat instead of it. He only had her this morning, but his desires never wane. They get stronger every time we fuck.
As the jet increases its speed, I double the pumps of my fingers. I finger fuck Isabelle without a single expression crossing my face, like her pussy isn’t slicking my palm with the arousal I smell melding in the air. Raspy moans bubble in her chest, but she keeps them contained.
