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Fifty g’s?
That meant fifty million right? Not fifty thousand?
That smile grew wider, Mr. Childs reading my mind.
“That’s right, sweetheart. A plane like this costs fifty million dollars, so we split the price tag. Not that I don’t have my own.”
My mouth dropped open once more.
“You-you have your own plane, in addition to this one?”
The alpha threw his head back and laughed.
“Oh yeah. It’s good to have back-up you know? If one isn’t available for whatever reason, I can always turn to my spare.”
I swallowed heavily again. The billionaire talked about planes like other people talk about cars. Except this was a fifty million dollar toy, not exactly something you park in your garage.
“I see,” was my low murmur. “I see.”
And Mr. Childs smiled again.
“From your encounter with Damien yesterday, he said you’re very flexible.”
My head snapped up.
“I’m sorry?” was my gasp. “Wh-what does that mean?”
“It means that you’re a good girl,” Mr. Childs rumbled. “Because I like to see everything.”
“Everything?” I echoed in a whisper.
“Everything,” he said silkily. “Now everything off.”
I stood stock still for a moment, not believing my ears. But as those blue eyes roved over my form, my insides went hot and loose once more, nipples pebbling as a low ache settled in my belly. Because we were gearing up for round two, and suddenly I wanted it.
“Everything,” Mr. Childs rasped once more. “Now.”
And with that, my hand went to the navy blue hat.
“No not that,” he corrected. “Let’s leave your hat and heels on. But take everything else off,” that deep voice commanded.
And slowly, I obeyed. The zip on the back of my dress slithered down, material pooling at my ankles. Like before, I had on no bra, so my girls immediately burst free, creamy with pink tips. But my hands paused at my hips, toying with the sides of the little g-string.
“Everything sir?” I whispered. “Everything?”
At the moment, I wore nothing but the hat and high heels, plus this tiny scrap of lace over my secret spot.
Mr. Childs was relentless.
“Take it off, sweetheart,” he commanded. “I like my girls bare.”
And what could I do? Slowly, my fingers rolled the fabric over my hips and down my thighs. But that’s when things got nasty. Because as the material descended, a long strand of pussy cum connected the crotch of the panties to my cunt, evidence of my need.
“Oh!” I gasped, cheeks flushing red. “Oh!”
But Mr. Childs was on it. With one big finger he leaned forwards and broke the strand, lifting it to his lips.
“Tastes good, sweetheart. I’m glad you want me just as much as I want you.”
