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She laughs. “I know, I know. Can’t fault a girl for her fantasies, though.”
“Nah, definitely can’t. I love ya fantasies, baby. And when we get to L.A., we gonna make a few of ’em our reality.”
She moans. “I can’t wait.”
I lean in and give her a deep, tongue-probing kiss. By the time I pull back, my dick is stretching down my inner thigh. “Now, see what you’ve done?” I show her my dick print. Not that it’s hard to miss. “You better get ya lil’ ass dressed before I end up tossing you over a chair ‘n’ fuckin’ this dick into you.”
“Oooh, I love the sound of that, daddy.”
I slap her on the ass. “Yeah, I bet. Hurry up. We have a plane to catch.”
SEVEN
Marika
The thing I love most about Marcel is that there is never a dull moment with him. He’s meticulous, attentive, adventurous, and intensely erotic. Those are some of the qualities, along with his intelligence, charm, borderline arrogance and hood swag—and not to mention his magnetic smile, and open-mindedness about life, love, and sex—that attracted me to him in the first place. Even after all these years we’ve been together, this man still never ceases to amaze me.
I love how he seduces me in a way that has
always made it easy for me to toss caution to the wind and freely give myself to him. No matter where we are. Like right here, right now, where I’m sitting next to him on our private jet to L.A., reclined back in my chair, my legs splayed open, with my wet pussy pressed against the cool leather seat as Marcel’s hand snakes its way up my skirt. His arm is covered beneath the fluffy white blanket I have draped over me.
He finds me wet and ready. His finger lightly trails the rim of my honey-slick lips. I close my eyes. Let myself inhale. I slide down in my seat, inviting him in.
“Nah, baby,” he says low in my ear. The deep, richness of his voice scorches over me like melted Belgian chocolate. “I want you to keep them pretty eyes open.”
My lids flutter open. I bite into my bottom lip. Fight back a moan as his finger dips into my slit, stirs into my juices, then quickly pulls out. He’s going to tease me, taunt me, edge me, until I scream out and can no longer hold on.
My body grows warm.
“Look at me, baby.”
I don’t right away. I need a moment. But Marcel makes it excruciatingly difficult to think straight, lightly pinching my pussy lips together with his finger and thumb. “You want my fingers fucking this hot cunt, baby? This sweet, slutty pussy?”
He’s already sliding two fingers in, deep.
“Oh G-god, yes.” I bite into my bottom lip to keep from screaming out.
“Open your eyes and look at me then.” My pussy clenches and unclenches ready to burst open as his hand pumps hard, fast. He knows I am on the verge. He slows his pace. Tells me he won’t let me come until I do as he’s asked. Open my eyes.
I blink. Breathlessly, I turn my head toward him. Eyes delving into mine, he pulls his hand out from beneath the blanket and eases his cum-coated finger into his mouth, tasting me. He licks his lips before leaning in and softly pressing them over mine, the tip of his tongue flicks, and my lips part to greet it, welcoming him—and the taste of me—in to deepen his kiss. I suck on his bottom lip, then his top lip, pulling them into my wet, wanting mouth. Oooh, I love this man.
A moan rolls its way up through the pit of my stomach, burns through my chest, then lodges itself in the back of my throat. I gasp. My eyes roll up in the back of my head, spin around in their sockets, then spring open.
“Ooh, please, baby…”
Marcel grins. “Please, baby, what? What, you don’t like me fingering you?”
“No, yes…ooh, please…mmm…”
“I love playin’ in this pussy,” he whispers into my ear. The pad of his finger sweeps over my clit. His breath warms my neck as he continues to whisper dirty talk in my ear. “You got my dick so fuckin’ hard. I’ma fuck the shit out you, baby. Mmm. This wet pussy. So fuckin’…hot…” His finger strokes my clit in small circles, pressing ever so lightly, before dipping back into my slit.
A soft moan escapes me.
“Shhh, baby,” he says soothingly, even as he slips a second, then third finger into my snug pussy. “You want the other passengers to hear you?”
Although the only ones on our flight besides Marcel and me are the flight attendant and the two pilots, his question is a part of the game. Pretending we’re flying with a bunch of other passengers. The threat, the fear, of being watched by others is like an aphrodisiac. The thought of being secretly watched, or overheard, is intoxicating.
“N-no,” I push out, shaking my head. I am relieved that we are traveling at night and the interior of the cabin is dimly lit. But in my mind’s eye it is the glow of complimentary notebook screens and personal laptops of other passengers lighting the cabin. “But, but…ooh…” Three fingers are now two. “Ooh…ooh…I’m so hot… my pus…sssssy…” Two fingers are now one, again.
