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My eyes were as wide as saucers when I got my first look at the interior. Everything was done with extreme luxury and comfort in mind. There were dark brown leather couches and several recliners that were worlds nicer than the typical seats in coach or even the expensive ones in first class. Wood grain lined nearly every surface, perfectly stained and glinting with freshly polished shine. There was a fully stocked bar in the back, and I saw several familiar bottles of Irish whiskey along the shelves. I heard the driver climb the stairs behind us and I turned my head to watch him enter the cockpit.
Was he also the pilot?
When the door slid shut behind him and he didn’t come back out, I just assumed that he was going to fly the plane because why wouldn’t a rich man like Cormac Murphy have a driver that was a fully trained pilot too. Maybe if I behaved, they’d take me on a train ride too and they’d let me pull the horn.
Choo choo, bitch.
I rolled my eyes as I took a seat. Before Cormac could even get close enough to think about doing it for me, I snapped my seatbelt into place. For some reason, the seat was so comfortable that it annoyed me. I crossed my legs, hoping that by doing so, the infernal pulsing need between them would fade out of existence entirely.
It didn’t.
He took the seat next to me and it just got worse. I could smell the hint of his cologne and it didn’t let me even come close to forgetting that he was there beside me. The engines powered up with a fierce roar. I wished for music or something over the intercom, but there was nothing. The jet pulled away from its place on the tarmac and headed toward the private runway. I knew it took people to run an airport like this, but I didn’t see a single soul anywhere. Maybe they were paid to keep out of sight.
I looked out the windows, spotting an air tower in the distance. There at least appeared to be bodies there, likely giving us permission to fly or whatever things they did up there. The sight of them was at least a little comforting. I chewed my lip, trying to remember the last time I’d been on a plane. I knew I’d flown in one on the trip from Ireland to Seattle when I was very young, but I didn’t have any recollection of it. Since then, I hadn’t really traveled out of state because my dad always said that flights made him nervous.
Until this moment, I never thought about it being because he didn’t want to be found.
I glanced at Cormac with a bit more caution than I had before. What if he was someone dangerous? It wasn’t that far-fetched to think that he might be based on what I’d seen so far. I was pretty near certain he wasn’t a serial killer or something. Why go through the effort of attending my father’s funeral and paying off the Seattle police just to haul me off in a ritzy private jet and fly me all the way to Boston if he was just going to off me?
It didn’t make sense, and I pushed the idea aside almost as quickly as it had come to me. I gripped the armrest as the jet started to pick up speed. I told myself this was an expensive plane and that it was probably better equipped than most commuter planes, but it was smaller than those and that made me nervous.
“Bobby is one of the best pilots in the country. It costs my family a pretty penny to keep him on call on our staff,” Cormac offered.
I found myself a bit caught off guard by his efforts to comfort me, and he smiled gently in my direction. If it had been anyone else, I would have thought it was sweet. My gaze dropped to his belt, though, and the sweetness of that moment was gone in an instant. It didn’t matter that it had made my pussy wetter than ever before in my life. I shifted in my seat as my needy clit throbbed hard. I could sneak off into the bathroom, press my fingers between my thighs and make myself come just to satiate whatever was happening to me, but chances were that he would hear me, and I couldn’t live with that.
I wasn’t a stranger to sexual pleasure. I’d most certainly touched myself to completion before late at night in the safety of my own bed, but I’d never done it this close to anyone before. My bedroom was on the other side of the house from my father’s. He’d given me the master suite because it had a nice big soaking tub, which he said he had no use for anyway. I stayed quiet for a while longer until the plane leveled off in the sky. I glanced over in Cormac’s direction and saw him watching me with somewhat of a curious expression. The silence felt more and more oppressive with each passing moment, and I lifted my chin with defiance.
I wasn’t going to let this man get the best of me.
“What? Is there something on my face?” I spat, feeling some irrational need to break the silence between us.
I was a bit taken aback by how angry I came off, but if it bothered him, he didn’t respond or even acknowledge its existence. I couldn’t decide whether that was comforting or unsettling, so I didn’t pursue it.
“I was just thinking how much you remind me of your father,” he murmured, and that took me by surprise too.
“In what way?” I replied, but the edge of annoyance that had been there initially was gone.
“Whenever he didn’t get his way about something, he would stick out his lip in a little pout just like that,” he chuckled.
“I’m not pouting,” I scoffed.
“He’d say the exact same thing too. The only thing that made him feel better was this Irish coffee from uptown from this tiny little hole in the wall,” he said, ignoring my outburst entirely.
There was a slight edge of sorrow hidden between the lines and I almost missed it. There was something he wasn’t telling me, and I wanted answers.
“Why take me all the way to Boston? Why not just let me rot away in prison like I deserve?”
“You don’t deserve a life like that,” he answered gently.
My core twisted tight, and I didn’t know what to do about it. I shifted in my seat once more.
“You don’t even know me. How can you have any clue what I deserve?”
My arousal was only making my irritation surge that much more. I know I was behaving every bit the ungrateful wench, my annoyance at the man that was obviously just trying to do a good thing was most certainly irrational, but I couldn’t stop myself. I was already in far too deep and if I was miserable and needy and aroused, he was going to go straight there along with me. Self-preservation be damned.
I kept pushing his buttons.
“You deserve to be taken care of. Everyone deserves that.”
