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20
CANNON
Adriver was waiting to take us to the airport after the show that night. One of Petrova’s private jets was already on the tarmac, fueled and ready to go as soon as we were buckled in.
I waited until Piper was settled on one of the sofas before sitting beside her and fastening my seat belt. She didn’t protest my closeness as I pulled her into the crook of my arm and tried to relax. Flying was part of my norm—I’d been on hundreds of planes in my lifetime, but takeoffs still made me nervous.
The flight attendant asked if we needed anything, offering food and booze. I shook my head, and Piper told her we were good for the moment. The pilot announced we were cleared for takeoff, and my arm clenched around Piper out of reflex.
She looked up at me curiously. “You okay?”
“I’m good,” I muttered, but I couldn’t hide from her how tense my body was as the plane taxied toward the runway.
“I never knew you were scared of flying,” she whispered.
“I’m not,” I denied. “It’s the getting in the air part that bothers me.”
Piper tried to move away, but I snaked my other arm around her, trapping her against me as the plane started down the runway. She gave a small giggle, but she twisted in my arms until she was up on her knees on the sofa. I gripped her hips with my hands, refusing to release her.
Shaking her head, she cupped my face in both of her hands and lowered her head until her lips were less than an inch from my own. I could taste her breath, sweet with a hint of the herbal tea she’d drunk after her set earlier. It almost distracted me, but then the loudness of the jet climbing into the air filled the cabin, and my fingers bit into her through her yoga pants.
Her dark eyes softening was the last thing I saw before her lips latched on to mine. I groaned at the taste of her tongue as she speared it into my mouth while her fingers stabbed into my hair, tugging at the roots as she deepened the kiss. I flexed my fingers on her hips before pulling her down onto my lap so that she was straddling my legs.
That tongue of hers had superpowers. The way it twisted and twirled around mine, I lost the ability to think past how desperate I was to feel it doing the same things around my cock. The tip was already leaking, preparing a load for her to swallow.
She had her legs on either side of mine, and her thin yoga pants were no match for my rock-hard cock as it strained toward the wet heat I could feel coming from her pussy. I rocked her against me, wanting to slip between those sinful lips and fill her sweet cunt with so much come, she would be dripping with it for days…
She lifted her head and dropped down onto her ass on the sofa beside me once more. “Better?”
I blinked down at her while she licked her kiss-swollen lips, trying to remember where we were—fuck, trying to remember my own damn name. Then I heard the flight attendant moving around in her little galley and realized we had reached altitude. There was no roaring of the engines, no popping of my ears as we climbed rapidly into the sky, no pressure trying to push me into my seat.
I’d forgotten all about everything but Piper and her wickedly talented tongue.
“Better,” I rasped, still breathing hard. “Thank you.”
She licked her lips, as if savoring my taste. “It was definitely my pleasure.”
With the majority of my blood still thickening my cock, I could barely form words, let alone speak in full sentences. I settled back into the corner of the sofa and urged her to cuddle with me.
Stretching her legs, Piper turned so her head was resting on my chest, her arm draped over my stomach. There was no disguising how hard my cock was, so when the flight attendant came to ask if we would like something to eat, Piper grabbed one of the pillows and covered my lap. “We’re starving actually,” she told the woman. “Whatever you have available will be fine.”
Inclining her head, she went to prepare us a meal. I shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position that hopefully wouldn’t permanently cripple my poor dick. “I’m starving, all right,” I grumbled low enough so only Piper could hear. “But food is not what I’m hungry for.”
“Me either,” she breathed, looking up at me through her lashes.
“Fuck,” I groaned. “You’re killing me, sugar.”
“I’d say I’m sorry,” she said with a mischievously sexy smirk. “But that would be a lie.”
I would have happily walked through hell just to see that grin, but I didn’t think she realized that. At least not yet.
