Or, uh. Something like that.
“Okay. I’m not dreaming,” I agree. “Now. Show me your big, luxurious private jet that’s going to take us on a magical getaway to the exotic Las Vegas strip.”
“I was thinking we could strip on the plane,” Eli muses jokingly. “But if you want to wait until we get there, I guess I can manage to restrain myself.”
I punch him for that. Lightly, on the arm. It only serves to verify what I already know: Eli Kennedy is totally fucking ripped. He makes me feel like kitten taking swats at a freaking lion or something.
Not that I mind.
Inside the jet is everything that flying economy is not. Spacious. Opulent. Comfy.
No screaming babies. No passengers inadvertently taking up half of your seat as well as their own. No weird dudes that try to talk to you the entire flight even though you clearly have headphones on. No geriatrics throwing up into the barf bags.
There is, however, a bar featuring rows and rows of glistening flight-ready mini-bottles of booze; a film projector playing Breakfast at Tiffany’s over a huge pile of plush, comfy looking cushions; and, upon further inspection, a king-sized bed.
“It is a six hour flight, you know,” Eli reminds me as I spin in a slow circle in the center of the bedroom, totally in pure fucking awe.
“Forget that,” I tell him. “I want to live in here.”
That makes him laugh. God, he has such a gorgeous laugh, too. He laughs like he means it, and just enough, and never like he’s making some kind of joke at my expense.
So, essentially, he’s the farthest thing from Greg that I could fucking imagine.
“You’re welcome to,” Eli says, his hand slinking around my back. “There’s only one rule.”
“Don’t talk about fight club?” I ask.
Eli takes the zipper of my dress between his fingers and tugs it downward.
“Always pee after sex?”
He laughs again as he slips the straps of the dress off my shoulders.
“Mandatory nudity?”
“Third time’s a charm,” Eli says softly.
My dress drops to the floor.
“Six hours is an awfully long time,” I admit.
“We’ll have to keep busy then,” Eli says, pulling my body against him.
His fingers curl beneath the lace band of my black panties in a way that makes me wish I hadn’t worn them in the first place.
“We’ll have to,” I agree.
“Have you ever thought about joining the mile high club, Sofie?”
His lips are just fractions of an inch away from mine as he smiles down at me.
I smile right back up at him. “Shouldn’t we wait for take-off first?”
“Waiting isn’t exactly my specialty,” he grows back, lowering his lips to mine.
Sofie
That’s when the flight attendant walks in.
“Mr. Kennedy,” a saccharine female voice says from behind us.
My heart promptly lodges itself in my throat. I’m pretty much naked right now. A thong and a black lace bra are the only things separating me from a state of full and complete nudity.
And all that’s keeping the flight attendant from discovering that is Eli’s big, broad-shouldered frame between the flight attendant’s line of sight and my bare skin.
“Not now, Karen,” Eli growls impatiently into my hair as he pulls me tight against his chest.
“Oh,” Karen says disappointedly.
I guess she doesn’t have to see me to know that Elijah Kennedy has a guest on board—a guest he’s currently particularly busy with at the moment.
But she doesn’t leave, either. Which is, y’know, pretty awkward. Not that it stops Eli from running his hands up and down my back in a way that makes me want to absolutely purr.
“Well, Mr. Kennedy, it’s just—” Karen tries again.
“Karen,” Eli says, more frustrated than ever. “I’m in the middle of something here. Can it wait?”
“Uh…well, no,” Karen says. “It’s just, we’re ready for take-off. You and your, um…friend will need to strap in until we reach ten thousand feet.”
I press my face into Eli’s hard, gorgeous chest and suppress a groan. I’m more concerned with the foot-long erection currently pressing into my stomach, thanks.
“Thank you, Karen,” Eli says. “That will be all.”
I can feel her trying to crane her neck and get a look at me before she turns away.
“Well, safety first.” Eli laughs, momentarily defeated.
He takes my hand and leads me to the back of the bedroom area, where there’s a single plush black leather airplane seat. Eli sits in it then pats his lap expectantly.
“This doesn’t seem up to safety regulations,” I say with a sly smile as I look down at him.
Eli doesn’t say anything.
He just flashes me a lopsided grin and gets his cock out. All twelve thick, meaty inches, hard and gorgeous and squeezed tight in his fist.
“Compelling argument,” I admit.
I take a seat on his lap, and Eli nestles his cock between my thighs. The expensive fabric of his suit pants feels luxurious and warm beneath my ass. There’s only the thin fabric of my thong separating my wet pussy and Eli’s cock as he straps us in.
“Comfy?” he asks, wrapping his arms around my waist from behind.
The seatbelt hugs me even tighter to his body. There’s no escaping my undeniable attraction to him now.
“You have no idea.” I arch against him with need just as the plane begins to accelerate down the runway.
I’ve flown twice before in my life—once on my way to the Big Apple for the first time right after I graduated high school, which was terrifying. Economy class doesn’t have a lot going for it normally. It’s even less fun when you’re a terrified eighteen-year-old whose only previous interaction with aviation has been seeing plane crash stories on the news.
The second time I flew, it was with Greg. First class is nothing to turn up your nose at, but the experience was pretty thoroughly ruined by Greg’s awful temper and shitty attitude. The flight attendant hadn’t meant to spill that champagne on him, after all.
A flight kind of sours when your traveling companion calls a woman something so nasty that she has to hide in the bathroom, sobbing, until we land.
But I guess when it comes to Sofie Carson and airplanes, in Eli’s own words, third time’s a charm.
Because as the plane lifts up off the runway, pushing my body even closer to Eli’s, I don’t feel nervous.
I’m not upset.
I’m excited. I’m ecstatic.
I’m fucking horny.
Strapped against Eli’s body with his gorgeous cock squeezed against my cunt and between my thighs. A girl could get used to traveling like this.
“Do you want it, Sofie?” Eli growls in my ear as the plane dips and my heart drops into my stomach.
“Yes,” I whisper.
It feels like every cell of my body is vibrating with anticipation as we rise in the air and Eli slips two fingers beneath my thong. They find my clit immediately. It’s slick with my honey, and he’s able to trap it between his fingertips, working it up and down in a way that makes my knees tremble.
“I can’t hear you,” Eli says, his hot tongue moving against my neck.
“Oh my god, yes,” I hiss a little louder.
His cock throbs against my cunt as he pushes my panties aside. I press my cunt against his thick man meat immediately and start to grind against it like I’m a cheap stripper and it’s my favorite pole.
“Mmm,” Eli moans against my shoulder. “That’s right, Sofie. Lube me up with that hot, sticky cunt of yours.”
I hump against it even harder. It’s not dignified. It’s not classy. But it feels so fucking good.
I’m so slick that even if I could position myself over Eli’s cock to take it inside me right now, I’m half afraid it would slip right back out. Instead, I focus on getting every one of
those twelve perfect inches soaking wet with my pussy juice. Every time I grind against him, his cock presses harder against my clit.
Holy fuck, I’m going to come just humping Eli’s hard-on.
“Come on, baby,” Eli encourages me, apparently coming to the same conclusion. “Be a good girl now. Come for me.”
His hands move to my breasts, groping them and slipping them out of the cups of my bra. My nipples are hard enough to cut glass with. He pinches them, twisting and teasing mercilessly.
I hiss with pleasure. My chest is heaving.
I want this; I shouldn’t want it, but I do. If this was any other man, I’d feel pathetic. So desperate for an orgasm that I’m going to rub my clit against whatever I can get just so I can come.
But this is Eli. Eli’s lap that I’m currently bouncing up and down on. Eli’s insanely massive dick I’m rubbing against like an animal in heat.
He’s gorgeous. Wealthy. Powerful. Confident. He fucks me like a whore and treats me like a queen.
And he’s behind me the whole time, urging me to do it.
To come for him.
To give him my orgasm.
“Cream on me, beautiful. Make that pussy happy. You know you want it,” he rasps. “You need it. You deserve it. You’ve fucking earned it. So take it.”
“Aaah!” I cry out as the orgasm tears through my body like a jet plane through a cloud.
My breaths come in brief little gasps as my cunt clenches and twitches and throbs on Eli’s cock, my cream gushing out against him, my entire body wracked with pleasure.
With that, the plane levels out. I’m shaking as Eli unfastens the seat belt and pushes me to my knees.
“Good girl. Now suck it clean,” he commands.
My eyes are watering. My lip is trembling. But one look into his stormy gray eyes tells me that this isn’t an order I should disobey.
One look at his cock, huge and hard as ever and dripping with my honey, and I wouldn’t dream of doing any such thing.
I go down on him desperately. At first, I can only fit half of him in my mouth. Maybe even less. He’s too big and too thick for my mouth to handle—and I’ve been known to have a pretty big mouth.
But Sofie Carson is no quitter. He’s slick enough with my sweet, tangy cream that I know he’ll slide right down my tight, wet throat if I just put my mind to it.
In the meantime, I use my tongue, licking him while he thrusts the head of his cock against the back of my throat. Slurping up all of my honey and swallowing to lubricate my throat with it.
When I close my eyes, I can imagine it. Inch by inch, my throat swallowing him up, tightening as I choke around him. Masturbating his cock while I struggle and gag. Milking his perfect cock for his cum. Every last delicious drop.
And inch by inch, I take him.
“Fuck,” Eli pants. “Sofie.”
I take him all the way down my throat, until I can feel it bulging with his thickness.
“God—so good. So fucking good—”
I choke on him and instinctively pull up to free myself from his throbbing man meat, but Eli knows what he wants. What we both want.
He grabs my hair and forces my mouth down to his base, sending his cock thrusting as deep into my mouth as he can possibly get.
It’s fucking deep.
It’s so deep I can feel my eyes go crossed in surprise.
That’s when he starts to fuck my mouth.
I shouldn’t like this. Good Sofie would never let anyone use her mouth like it’s just another pussy. Not like this.
But Good Sofie, apparently, got left behind on the tarmac. Maybe, if we’re lucky, she got stowed away with the luggage.
Bad Sofie, on the other hand, has mascara streaming down her face and a cock so deep in her throat it’s practically in her stomach.
And Bad Sofie? She fucking loves it.
Eli growls, deep and animalistic, and I feel his balls tighten against my lips. He gives me seven short, hard thrusts. I can feel his balls pumping cum up through his cock with every one of them, directly into my belly.
When he pulls out, the last rope of his salty, creamy cum trails over my tongue. I lick it up eagerly like the slut I am.
Bad Sofie is a mega slut, after all. Totally and completely. The biggest slut there is.
And Eli agrees.
“God,” he breathes, resting his cock against my cheek. “You look so beautiful with your throat ruined, Sofie. Like a perfect whore.”
His dick is still huge, even though it has softened up a little bit now.
It’s a cock that big is heavier than I would have imagined. It rests against my face with a comfortable weightiness, like crawling into bed beneath a heavy comforter after a long day.
“Do you like whores, Eli?” I tease.
He grabs the base of his cock and pumps one last drop of his cum onto my forehead. It trails down the side of my face, warm. It leaves me smelling like him.
“I like you, Sofie.” Eli laughs. “If you’re a whore when you’re with me, though…I can’t exactly complain.”
Eli stands, tucking his cock back into his slacks.
“Aww.” I pout.
“Patience, sweetheart,” he says with a charming smile. “It’s a six-hour flight.”
He’s just offering me a hand up when I hear it.
Click. Click. Click.
Shit.
Karen.
“Mr. Kennedy,” the flight attendant’s voice calls out.
Eli puts his body between the doorway and me as Karen pops her head back in. I’m still on my knees, panties pushed aside, cunt dripping, tits popped out of my bra. She might not be able to see my face, I realize, but despite Eli’s polite efforts to provide me with some semblance of modesty…Well, I know how it looks.
And for once, it’s exactly what it looks like.
“Yes, Karen?” Eli doesn’t bother turning around. Instead, he grins down at me, winking.
That saucy bastard. He’s actually enjoying this. Teasing me. Putting me on display.
“Um…” Karen begins, and I know exactly what she’s thinking. Slut, slut, slut. At least with Eli blocking her view, she can’t see way my face is turning red. “I was just going to let you know that you’re free to make use of the cabin now.”
“And we have,” Eli says, loosening his tie.
That smug little smile on his lips makes me want to ride his face just to put his mouth to better use.
“Can I get you two, um, refreshments, or anything?”
“Hmm. What do you think, darling?”
It actually takes a moment for me to realize that he’s talking to me.
Darling. Oh my god. I could fucking melt.
“Frozen margaritas?” I say with a giggle.
He did promise me anything I wanted, after all. And with the way my face is burning and my heart is pounding right now, I could use something to cool me down.
“Lime, strawberry, or peach?” Karen asks.
Holy fuck. Talk about service. I can’t even choose.
“Why don’t you bring us two of each,” Eli suggests. “Say at… half-hour intervals.”
“Of course, Mr. Kennedy.”
“My goodness, Mr. Kennedy,” I coo, pressing my fingertips dramatically against my chest. I can feel my heart pounding beneath them, wrapped up in the thrill of sort-of-kind-of being caught. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to get me drunk.”
“We’ll drink plenty of water,” Eli promises, taking my fingertips from my chest and raising them to his lips instead. “Although, who knows. I might like you drunk.”
“I get giggly,” I warn him.
“The horror,” he deadpans, helping me up.
And that’s how we end up out in the lounge area of Eli’s private jet, reclining on the plush cushions in front of the movie projector while the Midwest passes beneath us. Me in my lingerie, Eli in his tuxedo, sans jacket, with the sleeves rolled up to reveal his muscular forearms and his tie
undone.
He settles between my legs, reclining back against me as he hands me margarita no. 1. As my fingers wrap around the frosty stem of the glass and my legs wrap around his waist, I literally coo with delight.
“Mmm,” Eli hums with pleasure. He rests his head against my chest and looks up at me through dark eyelashes with his silver eyes. “I love the way you sound when you’re happy, Sofie. It makes pleasing you an incredibly rewarding experience.”
“You should please me more often then,” I say, even though I can’t believe I’m saying it.
“Maybe I’ll have to,” he says, easing his body against mine.
I run my fingers through his hair while we sip our margaritas and watch the back half of Breakfast at Tiffany’s.
It’s there, lit up by the black-and-white glow of Audrey Hepburn plucking a guitar on a fire escape, that I have to pinch myself again.
This is still Elijah Kennedy I have between my legs. I have to keep reminding myself of that.
Elijah Kennedy, political royalty.
Elijah Kennedy, PR director of the company I intern for.
Elijah Kennedy, owner of one very talented mouth.
I let the lime and tequila and salt and ice dissolve on my tongue while I take it all in—a private jet, Las Vegas, margaritas on demand, anything I want.
I didn’t grow up with any sense of entitlement. I had dreams, sure, but when I got into Columbia, I thought they’d all come true. I dreamed of having a good job, a liveable income, and a chance to help kids who grew up in the foster system like I did.
Maybe, somewhere down the line, a husband to love me and cherish me and help me raise those kids right.
I never dreamed of all this glitz and glamor. That seemed like something for other people. Something so totally beyond me.
But then Chloe sucked me into her crazy, high-class world, and now I’m having billionaire threesomes and sex fifteen thousand feet above the little town in Nebraska where I spent most of a pretty miserable childhood.
“What are you thinking about, Sofie?” Eli asks as behind us, the strawberry margaritas arrive.
It takes me a second to realize that he’s not watching the movie anymore. He’s watching me.
“You’ll laugh if I tell you.”
The King's Virgin Bride Page 31
