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By the time I’m parked behind the limo on the shoulder of the freeway, cum is already seeping from my cock. I get out of the car and make my way to the back door and tap on the window. A moment later, the window lowers as the chauffer steps up beside me.
“You?” Doralee’s wearing a short red dress, her tiny hands in her lap as one hand pulls on the fingers of the other. “What are you doing here?”
I step back as the chauffer opens the door, trying not to rip his lungs out for looking her way. But that would hardly help sell my story.
“The agency called, asked me to help out. They know I have a private plane and I was flying out today anyway, so I’m doing them a favor. You need to get to Paris and I’m on my way there. Kismet, I guess you’d say.”
Her eyes dance from the driver to me, then back, but he has my back.
“It’s all set up, ma’am.” He reaches in and takes her carry-on from the back seat. “I’ll get your other bags from the trunk. Mr. Lassiter will chaperone the remainder of your trip in style.”
I reach in, offering my hand, and her lips are tight as my eyes trace down from her neck to her tits then lower to the pale skin of her legs, thinking of how they will feel laying on my shoulders as my tongue laps at her silky wet pussy.
My body goes rigid at the thought, and when she takes my hand, the feel of her soft skin once again has me fighting back a groan.
Chapter Six
Doralee
I HAVE NO IDEA WHOSE body I am in.
My skin tingles. My nipples are so hard they show through my bra and the red satin fabric of my dress.
My panties are soaked, and the low throb from between my legs is matched by the rushing of blood in my ears.
I feel for the first time like I’m going to just live for the now. Damon said it’s kismet, and I surely never believed in such a thing before now, but I’m willing to try.
“That’s your plane?” I stare out the windshield as we pull onto the tarmac of the private airport.
It was only a short ten-minute drive from where the limo broke down, but the whole time Damon gripped the steering wheel like he was about to pull it off the console.
His jaw was set so hard, when I did try to ask him some questions it seemed as though every word of reply physically hurt him.
“Yes.” He answers, putting the car in park as a man approaches wearing a near black suit, and opens his door, holding an umbrella against the falling snow.
“Sir.” He greets, glancing at me with a wry smile.
“What the fuck are you looking at?” Damon answers, nearly knocking him over as he gets out of the car. “Don’t fucking look at her.”
The man stumbles back. “I’m sorry sir, I just—”
“You just nothing.” Damon snatches the umbrella as he stomps around the front of the car to open my door, and I wonder why he’s so mad.
Maybe he had some other plans for his flight. Taking me on has upended things for him, I’m sure. From what I learned about him by searching the internet, he’s one of the most eligible bachelors in the U.S.—if not in the world—and whatever happened the other night in the ballroom was probably just a game for him.
From what I can tell, he barely remembers me and all the dreams and thoughts I’ve had about him since that night evaporate as he ushers me out of the car without a word, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward the plane.
He turns to the man still standing next to the car and barks at him to get our bags as he eases me up the stairs to the open door on the sleek white jet.
Clearly, I have misread the signs of what happened the other night. It’s no surprise, since my real-life experience with men is zero, having always been under the watchful eye and thumb of my father then in more recent years Melany.
It doesn’t matter. I’m going to Paris anyway and my life is there now.
I’m not sure beauty is a gift. All my looks have ever made me feel is like a toy or a possession. No one seems to have any interest in who I am. What I think, feel, dream…it’s as though if you look a certain way, that is the entirety of you. You are defined by that beauty. You’re a pawn in whatever push and pull is happening at the time, with you in the middle.
My thoughts spin as we board, and my awe multiplies threefold as we move into the interior of the plane.
