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Like falling out of the fucking sky.
Dom places his hand on the small of my back and guides me farther in. “Sit wherever you’d like.”
“Anywhere?” I take in my options. There are numerous single seats, with a polished table separating them from another seat. There are a couple double options, and then couches in the back of the plane. I didn’t even know planes had couches. How was I was living off of sips of booze at Jack’s and packs of Ramen about a year ago, and now I’m deciding which level of luxury I’d prefer on my private flight with my mafia boss boyfriend?
Life is fucking strange.
Dom dips his head into the cockpit and chats with the pilot while I make a decision.
I settle on one of the double chairs because it seems the midline rational decision. In between the single seat and couch. A happy medium of sorts. Dom could sit opposite or next to me. Heck, we could play musical fucking chairs if we wanted.
I lower myself onto the plush leather and revel in how damn comfortable it is.
Frances appears at my side, startling me a bit at how prompt he is. With his hands folded so fucking properly on top of each other, he says, "Care for a beverage, Miss June?"
“Yeah, uh, sure. And, just, just June is fine.”
“My pleasure, June. What would you like? I could bring you a fine Merlot, or perhaps a Shiraz. I do have a wonderful Bordeaux I personally picked from France. I’ve chilled Mr. Adler’s Hawks Mark.”
“I’ll have that, please. Neat.”
Frances grins. “Ah, similar tastes, I see.”
I smile politely even though I would have easily settled for a cheap bottle of bourbon over Dom's preferential thousand-dollar bottle. Don't get me wrong, it's fucking delicious, but holy shit is it expensive. I don't think I'll ever get used to this lavish lifestyle. Although, it is nice to not have to worry about where my next meal will come from or if I'll be able to work enough to pay my portion of the rent. I don't have monetary worries with them. They insist I have the best of everything, even though I'm okay with “off-brand shit,” as Magnus would call it.
I don’t need their spoils though, and it’s not why I’m with them. Their love is all I want, and lately, that’s been the hardest thing for them to give me. I’d easily trade all the lavish shit for more of their time, but I know that isn’t possible. I just didn’t think it would be this difficult. It wasn’t supposed to be. I was going to be a part of their world. Help them with the daily operations and give them business advice, potential ways they could scale and grow their empire. I was told I would be their queen, but all I feel like is their hidden mistress who barely gets an ounce of their attention.
They tell me it will change, that it will get better, but what if it’s only a lie to keep me on the hook for longer without any real promise of things being different? What if we never really do get that happily ever after they promised me?
Frances returns from the door he had disappeared behind in the back of the plane. Two glasses in his grasp. He sets both of them on the table in front of me. “Are you hungry? Or would you like me to wait for Mr. Adler?”
“I’m good, thank you, but he might be.”Especially after the sex-capades we had before we came here.I leave that part out though. Frances doesn’t want to know about the dirty things Dom did to me only a half hour ago.
My body still tingles from Dom’s touch, my pussy aching from the pounding it took.
Dom usually gives it to me good with his dominant bedroom antics. I eat it up like the good girl I am, but damn do I like pushing his buttons and being the brat I truly am at heart.
“Very well, Miss June.” Frances motions toward the direction he came. “The lavatory is that way, and if you need anything…” He shows me a little button on the side of my armrest. “You can simply push this.”
“Thanks.” I want to correct him about my name again but I don’t force the matter. Formalities sort of seem like his thing.
Dom finally leaves the front of the plane and comes toward us. He grips Frances’s shoulder. “Franc, man. How are you? How’s the family?”
Frances smiles warmly. “Doing wonderfully, thank you, Mr. Adler.”
“That’s great to hear. And your grandson? How did the trial go?”
"We have seen much improvement, sir. I cannot thank you enough." Frances's eyes glisten.
Dom gives him another firm squeeze. “Don’t hesitate to let me know if anything changes or issues arise. I’ll make a phone call.”
“You are a good man, Mr. Adler.”
The two of them exchange a silent nod and Frances goes toward the front of the plane.
I raise a brow at Dom. “What was that all about?”
My Dom, a good man? Ruthless, murderous, cold as ice Dom…
