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1
Manya
The little yellow lights above the seats flashed, warning of turbulence for what had to be the ninth time since we took off, despite us not having felt any. Maybe it was the fact that we were in a private cabin on the plane, an experience I’d never been afforded before. Or maybe it was the fact that Dmitry had kept my body moving from the time that we’d entered the cabin up till now. I didn’t know, and to be honest, I didn’t much care to either.
I could feel Dmitry’s breath, hot and heavy against the side of my neck. His hands were warm, digging into the sides of my thighs and teasing the skirt of my dress just that much higher. I could feel my lids growing heavy again, that pulsing need steady throughout my entire body as the plane climbed in altitude. It was as if my body had no choice but to respond to his touch, the low moan that left me reverberating through the thin walls of our cabin.
None of this would have been possible had we traveled coach. There was no seat in front of me, near pressed into my knees, no crying baby in the row off to the side making me grit my teeth. There were no scratchy, cheap blankets, no hard, half-sized pillows. In place of the seat, there was a full-sized bed, complete with an expensive duvet to rival even the most luxurious of hotels.
The hostesses that let us on board when we arrived had welcomed us with champagne and designer packages, greeting Dmitry by name and calling us sir and ma’am. It went above and beyond professional courtesy and bordered on ass-kissing.
Speaking of ass. . .
“Do you ever get tired?” I laughed, falling further into Dmitry’s chest as I felt his hands go lower, his fingers cupping the bottom curve of my ass on either side. He gripped firmly as if trying to make imprints on my skin. If that was his intention, he was succeeding. I certainly wasn’t complaining. If anything, I was pushing further down into his hold, my voice breathy and my heartbeat rapid.
“Nyet,” Dmitry answered simply, the word more of a growl. His fingers danced over the curve of my ass, rolling against the back of the inside of my thighs and pressing even further inward.
“Aren’t we supposed to be sleeping or something to avoid jet lag?” I asked, my voice lifting in question only to lower with a moan as his fingers pressed against the inside line of my panties.
His chuckle was short lived, cutting off as his fingers pushed into the already slick, warm skin he found under the fabric there. “Sleeping, Manya, is how you get jet lag.” He seemed to be shrugging off my attempts to talk, curling his fingers into the warmth of my skin and dragging his knuckle up the hot trail that it left.
“I’ve never heard that before,” I gasped, feeling one of his fingers uncurled. It pushed against me, twisting up into my core and forcing the breath out of my lungs all in one motion.Oh, God. I was trying to pretend that I was unaffected, trying to continue speaking as if he weren’t driving me stark raving mad, but I was failing.And he could tell. He smirked up at me while I fought to keep my breathing from becoming too obviously labored.
“Da,” he groaned, adding another finger to the first and arching his thumb. “And if you think of it like that, I’m doing you a favor, no?” The dark amusement was evident in his voice, but Iknew Iwas affecting him too.
Instead of pulling away from his fingers, I sank down into them, gasping at the feel of his thumb rolling against my clit. “Is it a favor if it’s mutually beneficial?” I returned, the snark in my voice second only to the readily apparent lust. My hand dropped between us, passing the length of his chest to that other, harder part of him pulsing against my thigh.
The knock on the outside of our cabin stopped us both mid-move. Our eyes locked onto one another’s while the heat rebounded between us in waves that were almost palpable. Everything about Dmitry was visceral, and always had been. I’d been a fool to think I could avoid the attraction between us after our wedding, and I was a fool now to think that I had any control over it.
“Da?” he called out shortly, his eyes flashing as he tilted his chin somewhat toward the door.
“S-sir?” the nervous voice of the stewardess answered from the other side of the door. “You asked us to let you know before we began to descend?” Every other word sounded as if it ended on a question, her voice pausing in places where pauses didn’t even belong. It was just another instance in a long line of them that showed Dmitry’s power and influence.
It shouldn’t have turned me on like it did. Especially for something that had annoyed me so much in the beginning.
“Da,” Dmitry answered slowly, his fingers starting to withdraw from me. I could see the flash of consternation on his features, his eyebrows furrowing as it became apparent the stewardess had left. “Well, I suppose—” he started, cutting off as I moved my hand.
I didn’t know what possessed me,or maybe I did. My fingers circled then closed firmly around the cloth-covered evidence of his desire. His slacks were smooth under my palm, but I knew what stiffened beneath it was even smoother.Fuck, he’d really corrupted me. My innocent longings were now replaced with those of uninhibited depravity.
“Just that fast? Play time’s over just because the plane is descending?” I tried making my words as hard and decisive as he did when talking to me like that, but they came out breathy and unsure. My tongue pressed against my inner cheek as I waited for a response.
A look of dark desire flashed over the pretty, chiseled planes of his features, the green flecks in his bright blue eyes becoming more prominent. “Oh? Is it not?” He looked almost bored and disinterested, but I sensed a small flicker beneath his composure.
It was the sense of control that I wanted to break.
He’d brought me to my knees, weak and shaking, more times than I could count. He’d had me in all manner of positions, in all states of mind, but this time . . . I wanted to return the favor.
The sense of power was maddeningly heady, my heart hammering as I ran my fingers back and forth along the raised outline of his dick. They tip-tapped their way higher until, without pause, I pushed my hands up and under the waistline of his slacks. Again, that emotion flashed behind his rigid command, and my breath caught with the sight of it.
“What time do you figure it is?” I breathed out, smiling as bare skin met my palm. He jerked, his lips thinning and pupils dilating as he looked back at me through now slanted eyes.
“That’s what you want to talk about? Time?” His voice was still calm, still quiet, but with a tremor beneath, and that tremor made my smile broaden all the more.
My spine arched as I leaned into him, my lips pushing up along the edge of his jaw. I watched his expression while I kissed my way around the stubble that clung to his skin. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been home. . .” I trailed off, my teeth nipping instead of kissing as I dragged the top of my thumb along the rounded head of his dick, feeling the precum leaking there.
“The air is still cold. The ground will be frozen. . .” he said slowly, the Russian accent growing with each word he forced out.
“Sounds like I’ll need something to keep me—oh,” my words ended in a moan as his fingers returned right back to where they had been before, scissoring inside of me without any sort of preamble. “Warm,” I finished breathily, pulling him out of his slacks and lifting myself despite how badly I wanted to sink back into his fingers.
