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Drake gave a quick shake of his head and said no more, continuing to glance around at the people milling through the airport. We waited for what, to me, felt like an eternity. After a while I began to understand what was going on. Drake kept subtly glancing across the room to a different boarding area, and as that plane began to board, he scanned the people lining up to get on. That had to be our actual flight. We were trying to use misdirection in case anyone was following or watching.
When the gate attendant announced the final call for that flight, Drake stood and took my hand to hurry toward the plane. The attendant looked a bit irritated at us for our late arrival, but it ensured we would be the last people on the flight, and Owen would have no way of following us. I gave the airport one last glance before disappearing into the hall that led to the airplane itself.
The first-class cabin was nearly empty, and Drake and I got comfortable in the plush seating before the captain came over the intercom.
In a voice heavily inflected with a French accent, he said, “Welcome to Air France flight 7634. We are next in line for takeoff. Our flight to Port-au-Prince, Haiti is estimated to take approximately fifteen hours. We should arrive at approximately 6:30 am local time. Settle in and enjoy your flight.”
The words were repeated again in both Italian and French. Drake took my hand as the plane jolted, engines roaring to life, a monstrous purr that vibrated through my bones. I leaned into Drake, seeking solace in the solid mass of him, and his arm slinked around my waist, pulling me tighter against his body. The lines between comfort and desire blurred as his fingers traced the contours of my hips, igniting a wildfire of need that threatened to consume us both.
“Drake,” I gasped, my voice barely audible above the cacophony of takeoff, “I?—”
“Shh,” he cut me off, his lips grazing the sensitive flesh of my neck. “We survive first. Everything else comes after.”
The plane sped down the runway and a few seconds later the weightless feeling of takeoff freed me of a bit of the anxiety I’d been feeling ever since we woke up to find that poor cat nailed to our door. Maybe we were finally getting away.
A flight attendant came by as soon as the seatbelt light went off. “Can I get you anything?”
“A blanket?” Drake asked.
She returned in moments and covered us in a soft blue lap blanket embroidered with the airline’s logo. “Thank you,” I said with a smile.
As the stewardess walked away, Drake pulled me closer, his touch igniting a fire in my veins. The warmth of his body searing into me, comforting and safe. His powerful chest and arms clutching me to him. His lips trailed kisses down my neck and along my collarbone, his hot breath caressing my skin in warm shudders, sending tingles throughout my body. I moaned softly, unable to resist the violence that now seemed so natural between us.
“Here? Now?” I whispered, my voice barely audible.
“Yes,” he growled.
He slid his hand under my skirt and then inside my panties, finding my already wet lips and sliding a finger through the moistness and up across my clit. Suppressing a gasp, I arched into him, craving more as he teased and stroked me. The plane rumbled beneath us, its engine growl echoing through the cabin. Despite the pleasure, I glanced around, sure that someone was looking. Ready to see some random businessman jerking his cock while he watched Drake pleasure me beneath the blanket, but no one was around.
Drake eased two fingers inside me. My pussy already slick with desire, I clamped my teeth into my lip to stop myself from moaning.
Suddenly, a metallic chime echoed from the aisle—the drinks trolley lumbering its way past our secluded trio of seats. The briefest pause ensued, his fingers stilled within my depths—our intimate moment suspended in time. And then, with an intoxicating command of rhythm, he resumed, two digits exploring me with maddening precision and expertise.
White-hot pleasure seared through me, forcing a sigh to slip past my bitten lip. Reflexively, my fingers dug into his toned arm, the feel of taut muscle beneath my grip a silent testament to his strength. I couldn’t quite stifle the soft moans that bubbled up from my throat, echoes of ecstasy racing up against the low hum of plane engines.
“God, I want your cock in me,” I breathed into his ear. “I want you to shoot your cum into my wet cunt.”
“That will need to wait,” he said and moved his hand even faster, fucking me with his fingers. “Until then, I’ll take care of you.”
He added a third finger, stretching my pussy tight in a way I couldn’t describe, the soft wet sounds of his hand slamming into me muffled by the blanket. His free hand was busy too, mapping out sinful patterns on my inner thigh. His touch was an addictive mix of rough and gentle—coaxing out primal cravings I never knew existed within me. My breath hitched as he pressed his thumb against my sensitive flesh, an electrifying jolt of desire zipping through my nerve endings like lightning.
Unable to stop myself, I dug at the zipper of his pants, sliding it down and shoving my hand inside, freeing his massive, throbbing cock, jerking it beneath the blanket. If he was going to torment me, then I’d do the same for him. We both needed a release after everything that had happened the last couple of days. He breathed out a little gasp of delight as I stroked him.
His fingers moved faster than ever, then he grabbed my nipple through my shirt, pinching it. Hard. The mixture of pleasure and pain almost sent me over the edge right then.
“Drake,” I breathed out huskily, “I’m so fucking close…”
His lips claimed mine then, stealing a breath from me as his hand intensified its rhythm within me. I writhed beside him, lost in the tousled world of sensation. This was our intimate dance, one that fueled our desire and kept us tethered to each other.
The stewardess passed by again, but Drake barely noticed, his focus solely on the sweet torment he was causing within me. His hunger for me was evident in every touch, his breaths hot and heavy against my skin.
I moaned again, unable to hold back the pleasure that was coursing through my veins. The plane shook beneath us once more, adding a layer of intensity to our clandestine encounter. My body trembled uncontrollably, the sweat glistening on my skin as I succumbed to the raw lust that had taken hold and went over the edge into oblivion.
The first orgasm slammed into me like a sledgehammer. My body jerked and rocked, and still his fingers slid into me. My own hand never stopped stroking Drake, and even in the throes of my own climax, I heard and felt him grunt and stiffen. Thick hot cum spurted from him, and dripped down my fingers as I slowed my speed, milking him dry and wishing it was sliding into my pussy, ass, or mouth instead of over my knuckles.
The rest of the flight time stretched and snapped like a taut wire. The flight was an eternity wrapped in metal wings, each minute laced with the acute awareness of our vulnerable position, death lay around every corner. With each tick of the clock Owen and Bri might be drawing closer.
The flight attendant brought us a meal, then a snack, followed by breakfast as the hours clicked by, and still we clung to one another. Two souls intertwined in the eye of chaos, finding solace amidst the constant hum of engines and hushed murmurs of passengers in the other areas of the plane.
