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Falynn
PLAYLIST: ? BROKEN CLOCKS - SZA ?
“Are you sure about this?”
Gio’s eyes meet mine like I’ve told a joke. “We’re on the plane, aren’t we? We’ll be taking off in a few minutes.”
“Yeah, but…it doesn’t mean I have to come with you to see them. I can wait while you go.”
“Is this your way of saying you don’t want to be the gorgeous woman on my arm?”
Gio teases the faintest grin, but I can hardly laugh. The sick feeling in my stomach is way too unpredictable. I don’t get nervous often. Not even for performances. This is a different case altogether, though. I’m about to meet the rest of Gio’s family—the Sorrentinocrimefamily. On top of that, I’m not the best flier.
Pair the two together in one situation and this is the result—me a fidgety, quaky mess upon takeoff. No doubt the next seventy-two hours are going to be cruel and unusual.
The flight attendant strolls down the aisle of the private jet and only stops to ensure we’re buckled in safely. I can’t sit still. I squirm against the buckle of the seat belt and urge my heart to stop pounding so hard against my rib cage.
Don’t panic. Calm down.
Gio must sense my oncoming meltdown, because he grabs hold of the hand in my lap. His fingers thread between mine, his touch engulfing me in warmth. When I glance over, he’s already looking at me. His bright blue eyes reveal yet another superpower of theirs. One that doesn’t involve making my panties wet: the ability to calm me down on sight. My pounding heartbeat slows down. My stomach stops squirming.
“Once we’re in the air, I’ll have the flight attendant bring you a drink,” he says in his cool, composed, smooth as leather voice. “It’ll calm you down.”
His reassurance alone helps. It sets my nerves at ease. I lean closer, my head dropping to his shoulder. By the way he glances down at me, I can tell he’s usually not the type to let a woman—or anyone—rest their head on him. The gesture’s too affectionate for a dangerous, powerful man like him.
But he doesn’t pull away. He strokes the back of my hand with his thumb, and lets me drift off curled against his side.
Traveling cross-country is such a whirlwind, the next few hours are nothing but a blur. It feels like the next time I open my eyes, it’s hours into the night. I’m lying balled up on a bed as massive as the one in the Vittoria penthouse, but different in style and frame. It sits on a dais above the rest of the room with Roman columns on either side. The headboard curls in a sleek, modern curve of padded leather.
I blink and fight to untangle myself from the burrito I’ve rolled myself into using the bedsheets. Those are different too—black as onyx and the smoothest satin I’ve ever touched. The walls are as dark, painted black without a hanging portrait to their name. In fact, the entire room is empty, a large space without much personal touch.
That’s when it hits me. It’s Gio’s bedroom. I’m in his main home.
As if reading my thoughts, a figure moves in the shadows. Sight still groggy, adjusting to the dark, I stare harder as it grows closer. The mattress shifts as it lowers its weight to the edge, sitting beside me.
Light from the nightstand table blinks on and illuminates Gio. He’s never looked sexier, this muscular hunk of a man with his biceps poking out from under a cotton T-shirt and his thick head of hair pushed back against his scalp. But it’s his eyes that stand out most in the dimly lit room—two intense sapphires piercing through the physical, peering straight into my soul.
An electric tingle surfs down my spine. I lick my lips and note how his gaze dips to watch. My throat is dry; it feels like a thousand years since I’ve had a drink of water, but I patch together a hoarse sentence.
“Are we late…what time…I must’ve fallen asleep—”
“Shh…it’s okay.” He gives me a soft, fleeting kiss, his warm palms sliding over my cheeks. His fingers find the wild curls framing my face, and he strokes them like they’re delicate and precious. “You weren’t feeling well after the flight. You’ve been getting some rest.”
I close my eyes at the soothing sound and touch of him. The tingle down my spine transforms into tiny shocks throughout the rest of my body. He doesn’t let go, curling me into his strong arms and kissing me again. At first more soft, fluttery kisses that are nothing more than a tease, and then kisses that are deeper, longer. Fueled by passion.
My lips part as my body surrenders to him. I’m his for the taking, in whatever manner he sees fit. Just the thought of him and those hands, his fat cock, arouses me. My pussy is already moist, begging for him with frantic throbs. I can hear myself breathe, a collection of sharp gasps and moans.
His fingers band around the nape of my neck and my head tilts back, offering him every inch of my throat. His mouth trails along the arc like I’m his to feast on. He sucks and licks, even nibbles with ravenous delight, sure to leave marks.
I’m so tuned into how warm and wet his mouth feels, I don’t even notice he’s unbuttoned my pajama top ’til it’s too late. It’s pushed off my shoulders and discarded. He fills his hands with my breasts. They fit perfectly into his large palms. He takes his time toying with them, tweaking my nipples, making them achingly hard.
“You’re so tense,” he whispers into my skin. His breath is a warm, wispy tickle. “Lie back, Honey. Let me relax you.”
His hand dives down the front of my pajama shorts. He groans when his fingers touch my bare mons pubis and discovers, once again, I’m not wearing any panties. His fingers glide across the silky patch of intimate skin ’til he meets my pussy lips. They’re unapologetically swollen and slicked with my juices, but that only encourages him more.
I listen to his orders and lie back. My head touches the pillow as he tugs off my pajama shorts and tosses them over his shoulder. I’m waiting with bated breath for his next move. Any grogginess has faded, replaced by adrenaline pulsing in my veins.
Gio spreads my thighs wide and dives in. Even his breath on my pussy makes me tingle as I arch and grip the sheets. His tongue licks the juices from my folds and then dips inside for a deeper swipe. His fingers are soon to follow. First his thumb pressing over my clit, applying pressure to the throbbing nub. Then his others, prying me open, splaying my lips apart to reveal my soft, pink center.
