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She arched her back and reached in back of her, pulling open one ass cheek, giving Roselle more access, his dick slicing in and out of her wetness. She loved fucking the men who boarded The Pleasure Chest. Horny men, unhappily fucked men, cheating men all en route, with their partners, to Passion Island to work on their failing relationships/marriages.
There was always one on every flight. And her pussy stayed ready. After all, that’s what she was here for. Pleasure. That’s what she got paid to do. To feed their passions. To cater to the whims of passengers. To quench their thirst for sordid, uninhibited pleasure.
Roselle grabbed her hips, and watched his dick disappear inside the depths of LaLani’s silken valley. Fuck yeah. The pussy was good.
“Aaah, yes, yes,” Lalani murmured. “Give it to me, harder, harder . . .”
Krista couldn’t believe what she was hearing on the other side of the door. Lord, that man was a hot mess. Cheating-ass dog. She was so glad she wasn’t married to that.
She wondered if his wife knew about his scandalous ass. Mmph. She probably did. She shook her head in disgust. Dumb-ass women staying with a cheating-ass man!
There was no way she’d ever tolerate Kendall cheating on her. She’d leave his ass in a heartbeat. This plane was filled with negative energy, she thought as she kept her ear pressed to the door. Lord God. She needed to burn some sage to purify the air.
“Oh shit, oh shit, baby . . .” Roselle was on the verge of an orgasm. “Here it comes . . . aaaah, yeah . . .” And then a guttural sound escaped him as the walls of LaLani’s velvety cunt clutched his dick, massaging his condom-sheathed shaft as his semen, hot and thick, shot out of his body like lava.
Krista’s breath hitched.
“Can I help you find something—or someone?” asked a sultry voice in back of her.
Krista jumped, startled.
It was Mocha.
Krista’s face flushed, embarrassment spreading through her like a bacterial infection. She suddenly felt sick. She hadn’t expected to be listening for as long as she had been. And now she’d been caught with her ear pressed up against the bathroom door. Caught lurking like some, some, uh, well . . . she couldn’t think what to call it. But she was sure there was some twisted word for what she’d been caught doing, something dirtier than eavesdropping.
Pervert. Deviant.
“No, no. I, um,” Krista stammered. She averted Mocha’s curious gaze and the sly smirk that curled her luscious lips. Brenda straightened her body. Smoothed a hand down the front of her shirt. Then she simply stated, “I thought I’d heard someone crying.”
Mocha’s brow furrowed, and then she smiled like a woman with a secret. “Does it still sound like crying?”
Love cries. That’s what they’d been.
Krista’s stomach tightened.
“No. I was mistaken.”
“Would you like something to calm your nerves?” Mocha asked, feigning concern. “You seem a bit shaken.” She stifled a giggle. “Shall I bring you some Advil? A sedative? A shot of something wet?”
The way the words something wet rolled off Mocha’s lips made Krista feel dirty.
“I’m fine. Thank you.”
Mocha smiled as Krista quickly made a beeline back
to the front of the private aircraft. When she returned to her bed, Krista quickly crawled back under the thousand-count Egyptian sheets woven with 22k gold thread. She couldn’t even enjoy the way the exquisite linen felt against her skin.
Fucking, fucking, fucking. She was surrounded by sexual energy. From the soft porn that played on the large flat-screen to the half-naked attendants, this plane was a den of iniquity. It was the breeding ground for sin.
Krista shuddered. She could only imagine what lied in wait for her once they landed. She reached for her Bible beneath the pillow, and closed her eyes.
My Father who art in heaven . . .
Six
LaQuandra rewarded her palate with a long swallow of some of the best champagne she’d ever tasted and pulled up the window shade.
It was eight a.m., and the sun’s rays were already slicing through the clouds. The captain had finally announced that the plane was preparing for its descent.
