He smiles, looping his arm around my waist and guiding me towards the car. My skin tingles where he touches me, and it’s all I can do to keep from giggling like a schoolgirl. I’ve got to get it together.
“We’ll be able to purchase most of the necessities in Saint Petersburg, but there’s no harm in bringing some things from home,” he says cheerily, and I notice that he seems to have a bit more pep in his step than I’m used to. Maybe he’s just as excited to be with me, though that seems unlikely.
Shaking myself from my thoughts, I grin as he opens my door for me before circling around to toss my suitcase in the trunk. I settle into the passenger seat, fastening my seatbelt and allowing my head to lean back against the headrest. He slides into the car moments later, starting the ignition.
“What’s it like, having a personal jet?” I ask, fidgeting nervously as we make our way to the small airport we’ll be taking off from.
He seems to consider my question carefully, then shrugs in response.
“It’s nice. It’s been years since I’ve flown in anything else, so I suppose I’m used to it. I hope you enjoy it, though.” He grins, glancing to me from the corner of his eye. I smile, trying to contain my sheer joy at the attention he’s lavishing upon me. I feel like some sort of lovesick puppy.
The rest of the ride passes swiftly, and Carson pulls into a side lot at the airport before slipping out of the car. I step out as well, starting slightly as two burly men approach to grab our bags.
“Mike, Taylor! Good to see you again,” he says warmly. The men look relatively apathetic, considering me with expressions of vague scrutiny. “This is Aimee. She’ll be joining us for the flight. Aimee, these two gentlemen will be our pilots,” he continues, taking me by the arm and leading me in what I assume is the direction of his personal jet.
I spot the plane immediately as we turn the corner, though it would be hard to miss. The SharpeFocus logo stretches across the side, and while it’s not the size of a commercial plane, it looks plenty luxurious.
“So, Aimee was it? You’re a friend of Carson’s, then?” one of the pilots inquires with a sly smile. I hesitate, glancing to Carson before replying.
“I’m his personal assistant. I’ll be helping him with business matters on the trip,” I explain, though I’m not sure if that’s the whole truth. Carson hasn’t exactly mentioned why he invited me along, but that seems a logical explanation.
The vacation explanation couldn’t be the whole truth, could it? What sort of boss takes his assistant to Russia for a vacation? Granted, Carson and I have anything but your typical business relationship.
Expressing little more interest in me, the pilots walk ahead to load up our bags. Carson takes me by the hand, guiding me up the steps and into the plane. My eyes widen as I take in the interior—while I knew it would be lavish, I never could have anticipated just how luxurious a private jet could be. A thick curtain separates the cockpit from the rest of the jet, and as I watch the pilots slip behind it, I’m nearly overcome by the desire to embrace my boss.
Waiting for the opportune moment, I take a seat beside Carson and buckle myself in while the plane prepares for takeoff. His eyes seem to watch every move I make, and I’m on pins and needles as we begin our ascent. As soon as one of the pilots calls out that we’re free to leave our seats, I yank off the strap holding me in place. I turn to face my handsome boss, finding that he has a knowing expression on his face.
“I know it was probably supposed to be a one night thing,” I begin, and he considers me strangely for a moment before pressing a finger to my lips.
“Come here. In my lap,” he orders in a soft purr. I oblige him immediately, and though it’s a rather tight fit, the position is enjoyable.
I can feel the bulge of his manhood against my thigh, and I thank the stars that I opted to wear a skirt today. He shifts a bit awkwardly beneath me—that is, if anything the man did could be considered awkward. I hear the telltale sound of his zipper, and I can’t help but smile.
“Aren’t you worried they’ll hear?” I whisper against his ear, shuddering as he nudges my panties aside.
“I don’t really care what they think. Do you?” he replies with a smirk.
I chuckle, cutting myself off with a soft moan as his fingers press against me. Burying my face in his shoulder, I move my hips rhythmically to meet the feather-light touches of his fingers. I try to smother my cries of pleasure, but he grazes his thumb over the aching nub of my clit and it’s all I can do not to scream.
“Let it out,” he urges softly, continuing to caress me.
“Carson, please,” I groan, groping blindly in his lap.
He rumbles a laugh, and all of a sudden his fingers are replaced with something much larger and warmer. I exhale a sigh of relief as he presses against me, though he doesn’t enter me. I whine, bouncing on his lap encouragingly.
“I don’t have a condom,” he murmurs, simply sliding his length along my slit without penetrating me.
“Just pull out,” I urge him, bracing my hands against his shoulders. He hesitates for the briefest of moments before nodding, adjusting himself to slide into me. A shuddering breath spills past my lips, and he silences me with a kiss. I begin to bounce in his lap again, guided by his hands on my hips. “God, they can probably hear everything,” I whisper, grinning naughtily.
“Does that turn you on, you little minx?” he inquires with a smirk. I shrug my shoulders, playing innocent.
He jerks his hips up, hitting just the right angle to rub my G-spot. I cry out loudly, and he grins, continuing to thrust up into me. I bite his shoulder, trying to silence my wails of pleasure.
“Ah, ah, none of that,” he whispers. “So we can all hear you, Aimee,” he urges.
“Oh God, Carson,” I whine, trying to ignore the surge of arousal that shoots through me at the idea of the pilots listening in on us.
“Louder,” he grunts, leaning in to graze his teeth to the side of my neck. At least, I think he’s just going to graze them. Instead, he bites harshly, sending a mix of pain and a strange pleasure through me.
“Ah!” I squeal, throwing my head back as I continue to rock against him. I feel myself building up rapidly, the sensations nearly overwhelming as Carson sucks at the mark he just made on my neck.
All at once, pleasure washes over me almost agonizingly. I manage a strangled cry as he pulls out and pushes my head down. Realizing his intent, I oblige, and put my lips around his cock just in time to swallow his load.
“I didn’t want to ruin your skirt,” he muses aloud, and the two of us share a quiet laugh. I rest against him for a moment before shifting back into my seat.
“It’s probably a good idea to get some rest. We’ve got a long flight ahead of us,” Carson mumbles, sleepiness obvious in his tone.
I murmur my agreement, but even as he drifts into a peaceful slumber, I’m too wound up and excited to even consider sleeping. Oh, well. All the better to get acquainted with the pilots, I suppose. The fact that they’d likely heard me getting my brains screwed out matters very little in the face of my boredom.
Slipping out of my seat, I glance adoringly at Carson before heading towards the cockpit.
Chapter Ten
Aimee
The pilots glance in my direction as I step through the curtain that separates the two main chambers of the jet. The co-pilot, Mike, reddens faintly as he forces his eyes forward again. The other, Taylor, seems unaffected, focusing his attention on the controls required to keep us in the air. I can’t help but notice that their peaceful banter ceased as soon as I stepped through the curtain, and I manage a smile as I stare out ahead of us.
“I’ve never flown to another country before. Russia, of all places,” I sigh happily. Taylor nods his acknowledgement, but doesn’t address me any further. Mike seems to be considering me with an amused expression, and self-consciousness creeps up on me before I can try to stifle it.
“I’m sorry if you’re uncomfortable,” I s
tammer out. Mike barks out a laugh, only serving to make me even less comfortable.
“Don’t worry about it, kid. Really,” Taylor says with a faint smirk. “You get used to that sort of thing, working this job,” he adds, seemingly as an afterthought.
“Being a pilot?” I offer, and the two share a look.
“Yeah, sure. Just any old pilot,” Mike says sarcastically without elaborating. I breathe a sigh before sinking into the seat in the back of the cockpit. “Shouldn’t you be with Mr. Sharpe?” Mike prompts, and I shrug my shoulders a bit hesitantly.
“He’s a heavy sleeper. He tried to insist I get some rest before we get to Russia; he said there would be very little time for rest once we arrive,” I murmur.
Mike scoffs, and Taylor shoots him an icy look.
“Is there something I’m missing here?” I ask coolly, growing annoyed at how secretive the men are acting. Taylor speaks before Mike can even think of an answer.
“You’re not missing anything, hon. Just go get some rest. We’ve just seen our share of…situations, flying this jet for Mr. Sharpe,” he says brusquely.
I narrow my eyes at him, and Mike seems to shrink away from my stare. Taylor remains cool, almost ice-cold in the face of my agitation. “We’ve got a long flight ahead of us, anyway. There’s no sense in you hanging out in here with us,” he says dismissively. I can’t get past the feeling that these two men think I’m little more than a silly girl.
“I’m not tired. I’m excited. It’s not every day your boss asks you to accompany him on such a prestigious trip,” I snap. Mike snorts, and even Taylor can’t help but chuckle softly. “You two are acting extremely suspicious. I get the idea that you’re hiding something from me. Just come out with it already,” I hiss.
Mike parts his lips to speak, but Taylor shoots him a scathing look.
“Mr. Sharpe’s business in his own. It doesn’t serve us to go around discussing his personal matters,” Taylor says simply.
I resist the desire to roll my eyes at the men; there’s something more to this story, I’m sure of it. I rest a hand on Mike’s shoulder, going for the softer of the two. He stiffens beneath my touch, shooting me a wary look.
“If Carson is keeping me in the dark about something, don’t I deserve to know? I’m sure the two of you are well aware that my relationship with Mr. Sharpe isn’t strictly professional in nature. I’m not like his previous assistants. Carson and I…share a bond,” I declare.
At my announcement, Taylor laughs abruptly and Mike offers me a sympathetic look.
“That’s the thing, Miss…” he trails off, looking more uncomfortable by the minute.
“Rhodes,” I supply, gesturing for him to go on.
He hesitates, looking to his co-pilot for some assurance. Taylor simply ignores the two of us altogether, eyes fixed straight ahead. It’s obvious that he’s washed his hands of this encounter, though I can’t begin to imagine what must have them acting so secretive.
“Miss Rhodes, right. The thing of it is…you’re not going to like what I’m about to tell you. I could lose my job over this. You really ought to go back to the cabin and catch a nap like Mr. Sharpe suggested,” he begins carefully, trying to steer the conversation off track.
“Come on, Mike. You can talk to me. I won’t let the conversation get back to Carson. It’s just between the three of us,” I urge, smiling in the most charming manner that I can muster.
Mike hesitates for a long moment. It’s obvious that this secret is a juicy one—at least, in the eyes of a pilot. I can only imagine what the real root of their secrecy is. I almost expect him to try to lead me astray with some made-up secret that I can neither confirm nor deny.
“You’re not the first assistant that Mr. Sharpe has whisked away like this,” Taylor says abruptly, and Mike seems to choke on whatever gentler version of the statement he intended to offer.
I raise a brow, looking towards the other pilot with disbelief. It’s been obvious from the start that this Taylor guy didn’t particularly care for me, though I can’t imagine why. Is this a lie, intended to throw me off my game? Is there something about me that’s offensive to the man’s senses?
“Surely you must be joking, or exaggerating,” I say nervously, glancing towards Mike. He’s staring towards the other pilot with a plaintive expression; this is clearly not the direction he wanted the conversation to go in.
“Every year or so, Mr. Sharpe selects a woman under his employment to entertain him beyond the workplace. Under the guise of keeping them as a personal aide, he lures them on extravagant trips to catch them in his snare. You’re one of many, kid,” Taylor continues, paying little word to my obvious distress.
My heart begins to pound in my chest, and I try to think of some way to prove him wrong.
Carson has clearly felt a connection with me from the start, hasn’t he? He didn’t bring me into the first meeting with the intent of selecting me as some sort of addition to his line of conquests. He hadn’t even known I would be at the meeting…had he? Has this entire situation been a facade, some elaborate act to take me as his own?
Furiously shaking off the thought, I try to tell myself that I’m just being paranoid. The men in the cockpit have fallen silent, and while I’m sure they care very little about whether or not I believe them, I tell them anyway.
“So Carson is just using me. That’s what you’re saying, isn’t it? That’s what this all boils down to?” I spit venomously. It’s more of a confirmation than a question, but the two men simply nod.
Mike, at least, has the decency to look as if he feels bad for me. Taylor, on the other hand, seems entirely unimpressed—as if this were a conversation he’d taken part in a dozen times already.
“Personally, I think there’s always a chance that Carson will settle down once he finds the right woman. It’s really only a matter of time, and hey! Who knows, his special someone might be right under his nose,” Mike says in an attempt to be cheerful, but I narrow my eyes upon him at the same time as Taylor.
“Don’t patronize her. Sharpe’s not paying us to keep his dirty secrets, and he’s not paying us nearly enough to comfort every heartbroken girl that steps into the cockpit,” Taylor growls sourly. Mike frowns, focusing his attention on the controls in front of him again.
“He’s right. I appreciate the thought, Mike, but Carson isn’t going to suddenly change for me, of all people. I have nothing to offer that the dozens before me haven’t had,” I manage weakly.
I wrap my arms around myself, inhaling a shuddering breath before turning my back on the pilots. They remain silent even as I step through the curtain, and I feel more foolish than ever.
To make matters worse, Carson had been so insistent that I allow the men to hear my desperate cries of pleasure. Yeah, desperate was right. Desperate for something that’s so obviously out of my reach, I had ignored common sense in favor of it. I know I should plan to have a long talk with Carson when I slip back into the seat beside him. However, I’m reluctant to throw either of the pilots under the bus, even with as callous as Taylor had been towards me.
It just seems so…unnecessary. I like to think Carson could have been upfront with me about his true feelings, and perhaps I wouldn’t be hurting so much now. It makes sense, though. He’s the sort of billionaire playboy who only cares about himself. I wish I could say he’s different, but every man boils down to the same formula, at base level. All he cares about is eating, screwing, and sleeping.
Speaking of, he’s gotten two of those immediately upon boarding the jet with me. I watch his sleeping form with disdain, my heart aching at how fondly I had considered him what seemed only moments ago. Strange how much things can change in so short a space of time.
I watch his face, tracing my eyes along the well-sculpted features. He looks so peaceful in his sleep, so sweet, that I can barely stand the thought of being cold towards him. I try to ignore the voice in my head that insists it’s my fault. I should have known better. It’s not as if
a man like him would see anything of value in a simple woman like me.
Just as well, I’m not about to let him under my skirt again, knowing where those hands have been. I don’t know how I’m going to explain the abrupt shift in my attitude, but the nice assistant who had been so eager to play is no more. I imagine he’ll be cold, seeing little use in me without the appeal of my body. Perhaps he’ll send me home ahead of schedule. Or maybe, just maybe…
Maybe Mike was right. Perhaps Carson just needs to meet the right woman. Maybe I’m the one who will change his outlook, the one he can’t look into his future and see himself without.
Realizing that I’m just fooling myself, I exhale a bitter chuckle. I slouch in my seat, chills going through my body. Carson hadn’t been as kind to explain where the spare blankets are, and apparently is doing just fine without one. Then again, he has the satisfaction of a plan well executed to keep him warm. All I have is my misery and disappointment to keep me company.
Shivers run through my body as I turn away from him, an unbidden tear streaking down my cheek. Get it together. He’s just a fling. It’s not as if I had expected to find my happily-ever-after with someone like Carson Sharpe. At least, that’s what I tell myself as I stare out the window of the jet.
The clouds look like fluffy piles of cotton candy, sweet and delicate. The jet rips through them, not caring what effect it might have on the skies around it. I suppose it’s fitting. The perfect metaphor to describe the owner of said jet and the women he’d torn asunder.
I squeeze my eyes shut against the thoughts, trying to tune out the sound of the engines. Moreover, I try to ignore the gentle lull of Carson’s snoring—an obnoxious, but strangely comforting sound that a lesser woman would find herself falling for.
Allowing everything to slip away, I drift into a fitful sleep.
Chapter Eleven
The Boss's New Plaything Page 6
