Against the Ropes
Page 88
“We’ll have some more champagne please, Linda,” Max says, his voice all smooth and mellow.
Luscious Linda, the well-endowed flight attendant giggles. She manages to tear her eyes off my man and disappears into the tiny galley.
“She has a last name. It’s on her nametag. You should really call her Miss Slutzsky. Linda is too familiar, unless you know her very well. Maybe you do. Maybe that’s why you used your sexy come hither voice when you were talking to her and gave her the ‘I’m going to devour you with my eyes’ look.”
Max laughs and then hums a few bars of the Black Crows’ “Jealous Again.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.” I ram the rest of the strawberry in my mouth.
“Do you know why I sent her for more champagne?” Max tongues my earlobe and then nibbles around the shell until my body shivers with pure unadulterated lust.
“You’re thirsty?” I push him away. “Or you like leading women on?”
“Only one woman.” Max removes his napkin and tosses it over my lap.
“Linda Slutzsky?”
“You.” He slides his hand under the napkin and down the front of my yoga pants, not stopping until his fingers are secured behind Tweety Bird’s head.
“Max,” I shriek. My legs jerk up, hitting the tray table. With the kind of coordination only seen in a circus, Max saves the tray with his free hand, while simultaneously stroking behind Tweety Bird’s fluffy bottom with the other. His fingers push aside the panties and slide between my folds.
The curtain slides open with a loud rattle. Max continues to stroke. I draw in the deepest, most ragged breath and try to imagine I do not have a man’s hand down my pants in a ritzy private airplane.
Ms. Slutzsky looks at Max. Then she looks at me. My cheeks flame. My lungs burn for air. How twisted is this?
“I think we’ll pass on the champagne for now, Linda. Makayla is feeling a little lightheaded.” Max graces her with his award-winning smile. “We’ll call you if we need you.”
Linda’s smile does not reach her eyes. “I’ll be in the galley.” She yanks the curtain closed.
My breath leaves me with a whoosh. “She knew what you were doing. She’ll think I’m a—” I can’t say it. I can only call myself a slut in my head. “Minx,” I blurt out.
Max chuckles. “You are a minx. My little minx. And the only thing she should be thinking about is whether we need more champagne.” He presses a finger inside me and groans. “You’re so wet, baby. I think my little minx likes a bit of danger served with her sex.”
“Don’t talk like that. It does things to me.”
“What things?” Max slides a second finger through my folds and my insides melt.
“Naughty things.”
“Tell me naughty things,” Max whispers in my ear.
My hips rock in time to the gentle thrust of his fingers, rubbing my sensitive nub against the heel of his palm. The sensation is so delicious my head falls back on the seat, and I grip the armrests so hard my knuckles turn white.
“I can’t…talk…when you are doing that.”
“Then I’ll stop.”
“Nooooooo. Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”
Max withdraws his fingers and pushes back our table trays. “I have to stop. Hot, wet Makayla moaning and writhing with naughty things on the tip of her tongue is more than any man could bear.” He motions me out of my seat and I follow him down the aisle to a small, partially enclosed seating area containing two leather loungers. Max settles himself on the lounger nearest the window and undoes his fly. His erection springs free—hard, heavy, and swiftly sheathed before I can even catch my breath.
“Max.” I look at him aghast and check over my shoulder for Luscious Linda. “What are you doing?”
“Guess.”
“You don’t waste any time, do you?”
“Up here, minx.” Max pats his lap. “Come and whisper naughty things in my ear.”
“But…Linda…and the pilot and copilot—”
“Are busy flying the airplane.” Max reaches over and slides my yoga pants and Biker Chick panties over my hips, then eases them down to my ankles. “I’m going to fly you.”
“Let me take them off.” I bend down to slide them over my shoes, but Max grabs my hand.
“Leave them where they are.”
“But I won’t be able to move very much.”
Max tugs me onto his lap, positioning my knees on either side of his hips. “Good. I want to be able to last out the flight.” He slides the straps of my tank top over my shoulders and undoes the clasp of my bra, sliding them both down to my waist. Cool air brushes over my skin and my ni**les harden.
“I don’t feel very sophisticated right now,” I complain, while he palms my br**sts. “Look how easy it was for you to get into my pants.”
He trails kisses down my throat. “I don’t want sophisticated,” he murmurs. “I want minx.”
“I want to be like the women I saw you with on the Internet—the models and society girls who know all the right things to say.”
“I don’t want to hear the right things.” He lifts my hips and positions me just over the tip of his erection. “I want to hear minx things.” He pulls me down and thrusts deep inside me. The dual sensations overload my brain.
Luscious Linda, the well-endowed flight attendant giggles. She manages to tear her eyes off my man and disappears into the tiny galley.
“She has a last name. It’s on her nametag. You should really call her Miss Slutzsky. Linda is too familiar, unless you know her very well. Maybe you do. Maybe that’s why you used your sexy come hither voice when you were talking to her and gave her the ‘I’m going to devour you with my eyes’ look.”
Max laughs and then hums a few bars of the Black Crows’ “Jealous Again.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.” I ram the rest of the strawberry in my mouth.
“Do you know why I sent her for more champagne?” Max tongues my earlobe and then nibbles around the shell until my body shivers with pure unadulterated lust.
“You’re thirsty?” I push him away. “Or you like leading women on?”
“Only one woman.” Max removes his napkin and tosses it over my lap.
“Linda Slutzsky?”
“You.” He slides his hand under the napkin and down the front of my yoga pants, not stopping until his fingers are secured behind Tweety Bird’s head.
“Max,” I shriek. My legs jerk up, hitting the tray table. With the kind of coordination only seen in a circus, Max saves the tray with his free hand, while simultaneously stroking behind Tweety Bird’s fluffy bottom with the other. His fingers push aside the panties and slide between my folds.
The curtain slides open with a loud rattle. Max continues to stroke. I draw in the deepest, most ragged breath and try to imagine I do not have a man’s hand down my pants in a ritzy private airplane.
Ms. Slutzsky looks at Max. Then she looks at me. My cheeks flame. My lungs burn for air. How twisted is this?
“I think we’ll pass on the champagne for now, Linda. Makayla is feeling a little lightheaded.” Max graces her with his award-winning smile. “We’ll call you if we need you.”
Linda’s smile does not reach her eyes. “I’ll be in the galley.” She yanks the curtain closed.
My breath leaves me with a whoosh. “She knew what you were doing. She’ll think I’m a—” I can’t say it. I can only call myself a slut in my head. “Minx,” I blurt out.
Max chuckles. “You are a minx. My little minx. And the only thing she should be thinking about is whether we need more champagne.” He presses a finger inside me and groans. “You’re so wet, baby. I think my little minx likes a bit of danger served with her sex.”
“Don’t talk like that. It does things to me.”
“What things?” Max slides a second finger through my folds and my insides melt.
“Naughty things.”
“Tell me naughty things,” Max whispers in my ear.
My hips rock in time to the gentle thrust of his fingers, rubbing my sensitive nub against the heel of his palm. The sensation is so delicious my head falls back on the seat, and I grip the armrests so hard my knuckles turn white.
“I can’t…talk…when you are doing that.”
“Then I’ll stop.”
“Nooooooo. Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”
Max withdraws his fingers and pushes back our table trays. “I have to stop. Hot, wet Makayla moaning and writhing with naughty things on the tip of her tongue is more than any man could bear.” He motions me out of my seat and I follow him down the aisle to a small, partially enclosed seating area containing two leather loungers. Max settles himself on the lounger nearest the window and undoes his fly. His erection springs free—hard, heavy, and swiftly sheathed before I can even catch my breath.
“Max.” I look at him aghast and check over my shoulder for Luscious Linda. “What are you doing?”
“Guess.”
“You don’t waste any time, do you?”
“Up here, minx.” Max pats his lap. “Come and whisper naughty things in my ear.”
“But…Linda…and the pilot and copilot—”
“Are busy flying the airplane.” Max reaches over and slides my yoga pants and Biker Chick panties over my hips, then eases them down to my ankles. “I’m going to fly you.”
“Let me take them off.” I bend down to slide them over my shoes, but Max grabs my hand.
“Leave them where they are.”
“But I won’t be able to move very much.”
Max tugs me onto his lap, positioning my knees on either side of his hips. “Good. I want to be able to last out the flight.” He slides the straps of my tank top over my shoulders and undoes the clasp of my bra, sliding them both down to my waist. Cool air brushes over my skin and my ni**les harden.
“I don’t feel very sophisticated right now,” I complain, while he palms my br**sts. “Look how easy it was for you to get into my pants.”
He trails kisses down my throat. “I don’t want sophisticated,” he murmurs. “I want minx.”
“I want to be like the women I saw you with on the Internet—the models and society girls who know all the right things to say.”
“I don’t want to hear the right things.” He lifts my hips and positions me just over the tip of his erection. “I want to hear minx things.” He pulls me down and thrusts deep inside me. The dual sensations overload my brain.
