by Mia Madison
“Because I want you, Georgia Jury.”
“And you always get what you want,” I snark.
“Yeah I do. And I think you want me too.”
I can't respond as the stewardess appears with flutes of champagne and some canape snacks that she sets on the leather and glass table at our knees. The entire interior is padded cream leather, the seats like a cocoon as we lift off into the sky and the gray cubes of New York City diminish to nothing.
Mr Wellman takes my hand, perhaps sensing that I'm a little nervous as the small plane deals with the unstable winter weather.
“I'm in love with you, Georgia.” The plain statement nearly blows my mind for being so unexpected and heartfelt. He's opening up to me. Laying himself on the table when I know that's the toughest thing in the world for him.
“You're in love with your submissive temporary slave,” I reply, trying not to melt at the look in his eyes as he trawls my face for emotion.
“I'm not a kid, my darling. I know what I want and I’ve waited a long time to get it.”
“You've got everything you want.”
“No. I don't have you”
“You want me?” I say in disbelief. “You can have any woman. What's so special about me?”
“You don’t think you're special”
“I do but I don’t get why you do. There are tons of hot shot, beautiful women in Manhattan.”
“There are and I know many of them.”
That admission sends a pang of jealousy through me.
“But none of them is you,” he continues. “As you've noticed I have particular requirements. I also come with a set of baggage. And by baggage I mean three point four billion dollars.”
“Tough life,” I snap. If he knows me at all he must know I'm not impressed.
“Okay, Ms Jury, I think it's time you got out of those clothes.”
“What? You can't tell me to get undressed. We are nowhere near done with the talk.”
“We'll get to that. But not until you've relaxed a little. That mouth is a kind of tense and I know exactly how to make it unwind.”
I'm about to refuse but he pops the button to release my seat belt and pulls me up out of the seat.
“Strip,” he commands.
I'm flabbergasted and furious and inflamed with desire all at once. I feel like a pauper, standing before him in baggy sweats while he looks divine. Like a male model in a swanky casual ad, promising beautiful people chilling in mansions on the Island. I want to be naked in the power my body exerts. I love having him admire my tits and my pussy which is already soaking wet.
I lift the sweatshirt over my head and drop it to the floor. I shimmy out of the pants, his gaze fixed on my tits as I bend over. I kiss his mouth, surprising him with my brazenness, and stay bent as I unhook my bra and my girls tumble free at his eyeline. He scoops the underside of one breast in the curve of his thumb and tugs the needy peak into his mouth, licking and lapping across the big aureole like a starving man.
“Panties,” he orders, when he pulls back, his voice rasping like time is passing too slowly.
I hook my fingers into the feather lace.
“No, turn around.”
I slowly turn my back on him then agonizingly slowly, lower the whisper of lace over the curve of my butt cheeks and down my thighs. Tipping forward to peel apart my pussy, feeling his hot breath on my cheeks then on my asshole as I bend over and take my good sweet time in stepping out of the scrap of lace. Mr Wellman has freed his stupendous dick from his jeans.
“Open your legs,” he orders me and I comply. “Show me your perfect sexy little pussy,” he croaks as he slides his hand up and down his enormous shaft.
My clit clenches in jealousy. I want that wide rock hard prick for myself, every last inch filling me and straining against my walls. I bend further forward and clasp the leather chair for support, letting the boss feast his eyes on my open glistening hole as it twitches with desperate need to be rammed full of him.
“I need a little taste of you, Georgia Jury,” he moans and his hands clamp around my hips to tug me back onto his mouth.
I emit such a loud animal whine as his tongue shoves inside my pussy that I can't believe the perfect stewardess doesn’t come running. But I can't stop now. I rotate and grind on his tongue as he laps every drop of juice out of my entrance, licking me dry. Except another squirt of liquid escapes every time he's done lapping me up.
“Fuck me,” he orders.
I try to turn but his hands remain on my hips, holding me with my ass to him. He guides me back until my pussy mouth finds the head of his dick, standing straight up, rock hard and pulsing with need. I swirl him into my entrance shaking under his grasp for what's coming then I drop down the fat length of his massive shaft, letting rip another long wail.
I sit across his thighs impaled on his dick while he squeezes and pinches my nipples. My head falls back to his shoulder, shards of impossible ecstasy flying through every part of me taking me higher than the plane now soaring above the clouds. His pelvis pumps out small jerks that press his head deeper against my cervix. He couldn’t be buried further into me without tearing me open.
“Fuck me, Georgia,” he growls into my ear. “Milk me with your tight little pussy.”
I tip forward until my hands reach the armrest of the chair opposite and I ride the full length of him. Slowly at first, relishing every withdrawal, feeling his solid steel blade glide with full friction across every part of my tunnel. Then I pick up speed, contracting around his head so he groans out loud, losing control as I ride him harder. I fuck the boss's massive cock with an extra grind of my pussy mouth around his solid stump.
When I'm panting out ragged breaths, Mr Wellman stands, clamps my hips immobile and ruts into me furiously, tugging my pelvis back onto him, drilling my pussy until I punch fingertips dents in the leather chair and howl through an animalistic climax. He follows right after, firing up his thighs to take the brunt of the strain as he releases an endless stream inside me. He's still coming as he leans across my back and strums across my clit to tease an aftershock of convulsions from my pussy. My breath hitches in uneven gasps as I battle to contain the force that just blew through me.
Mr Wellman lifts me up still impaled on his solid cock to seat us both in his commodious flight seat. His arms wrap around me, one hand cups my breast, the other rests across my swollen sodden clit. I’m on full display to the cockpit, but he's got me covered should the pilot decide to wander in.
“You're incredible Georgia,” he moans into my damp hair, inhaling the sweat and sex aroma clinging to my skin.
“You're kinda incredible too, Mr Wellman, Sir,” I whisper, still letting out gasps as my body returns to me from the stratosphere.
He leans back in his chair, breathing calmer and clasps me to him. Arms wrapped to bind me so I feel the ridges of muscle and his heart beating fiercely into my back.
I hope what I'm feeling now is nothing more than the aftermath of incredible sex and not the tremors of hopeless impossible love. Because if it's the latter I'm in really big trouble.
The plane lands on a private airstrip and a car is waiting to whisk us away. No passports, no frisking by guards and laptops in a separate screening box. None of that impacts the wealthy I guess.
Yes, I did manage to slip into something more chic and less frump than sweats for the balmy temperature. Mr Wellman packed all sorts of sexy chiffon beaded short dresses and long with splits up the thigh. All the things he wants to see me wearing. In public at least. God, the man has excellent taste. He can dress me up like a Barbie as long as he likes.
Chapter Eighteen
We arrive at a winding driveway leading to a wide low house facing the expanse of ocean from the deck. A path through the palm trees heads straight to a private white beach.
Mr Wellman also packed me a half dozen designer bikinis, covered with jewels, that sculpt my curves into something approaching bombshell. I get now why some clothing is so
freaking expensive.
“I want you naked for these few days,” Mr Wellman tells me.
“Constantly?” I squeal.
“Hmm.” He nods.
“We might have to discuss that,” I tell him. “I'm kind of liking what these bikinis do to my body.”
“You're gonna like what I do to it a fuck of a lot more, Ms Jury.”
“Uh well, here's the thing. We never did get through with our talk.”
“I doubt I'll ever finish a conversation with you before taking that bratty mouth in mine and fucking you into submission,” he says.
The way he keeps using words like 'always' and 'ever' have me vibrating.
“We are outrageously good together,” he adds.
“Our bodies are definitely in synch,” I reply. “Our minds not so much.”
I don't know what I'm saying. I am divided exactly down the middle and both halves are smothered with a thick layer of terrified. To have him is terrifying. Not to have him is impossible to contemplate.
“That's what communication is for. I'm not as domineering in every aspect of a relationship. That's something women have failed to understand in the past.”
“About those other women.” Actually they make my fingers claw.
“Ah. You want me to continue telling you why you're so special.” He smiles.
Yeah that’s sounds pretty appealing right now. He fills my champagne glass and tops it off with some delicious fresh fruit juice that sets off little explosions on my taste-buds.
“What is that? So sweet. Delicious.”
“Passion fruit. Sweet to counteract the salty delicious you’re going to take on that abrasive little tongue in a very short while.”
“So lots of women with great careers and better bodies.” I interrupt before I jump his cock and tug it into the back of my throat. “Why me?”
“Because aside from your obvious attributes which I promise never to stop reminding you of, you aren’t impressed by the three point four billion. Exactly that. And because your body fits into mine like a glove, a jigsaw. Think of every pair that fits together that’s you and I.”
He looks at me and finding me listening rapturously, continues.
“Women pretend they're into bondage when they meet me but what they really want is my lifestyle. They claim to love it but I can tell they're just enduring it. Playing submissive long enough to wiggle out from surrender and start pushing me around. Disastrous. You cut through the crap before you knew who I was and again when you found out. And continued to be a challenging and irresistible mouthy goddess. Your submission is a part of you that doesn’t impact your strong beliefs and you aren’t afraid to tell me what you think of me. Not from the instant we met.”
“Well you were kind of a douche that day.”
“I'm too busy for lining up, baby. I have to manage the lives and fortunes of hundreds of people.”
Then the smile slides off my mouth.
“That's the problem. You fired all those people right before the new year. All those families who’ve just had a Christmas with their kids or loved ones and now can't finance it.”
“My darling, I have shareholders to answer to in a vitally important meeting next week. They aren't interested in families, they're interested in dividends. That's business.”
“I don't want to be a part of that. It hurts too much.”
How much is it going to hurt to separate from Mr Wellman?
“Would you like to hear me explain before I rip off that sexy tiny triangle of fabric covering that tight little pussy of mine? It's driving me to distraction, preventing me from seeing and tasting and touching you.”
I nod okay. And laugh a little, making sure to keep my pleasure out of the giggle zone.
“I have a new company I'm starting mid February. Everyone who was downsized is getting a great severance package that will see them through until they start at the new job.”
“All of them?”
“Every last one. Plus I'll take the company public in three years netting another few billion which they will all share in with stock options. And I need my woman to share it as well. One who can keep me in line as well as relaxed and headache free.”
Me?
I don’t dare mouth the word. But his gaze drilling into me is answer enough.
“I can't guarantee the headache free part,” I say.
“I'm willing to stock up at the drug store,” he assures me.
“We hardly know each other,” I whisper, feeling every resistance falling away in futility.
“A week is fast,” he agrees. “Like I said I know what I want and I've never been wrong when I laser my focus on that. But I get you're young and we can take it as slow as you like.”
“You're convinced that you want me? Like as a -”
He cocks a brow, daring me to say it.
“Girlfriend?”
He grins and crooks his index finger, beckoning me to come to him.
*
When we re-board the plane after three days of celebrating the new year with fireworks in the sky and the bedroom, beach, deck, jacuzzi, I am melting. So relaxed I could pool into the lush carpeting. Mr Wellman packed his traveling case of butt plugs and other toys and taught me about a whole new world.
When he drops me with the limo at my parent's house, I have to wait at the front door to be let back in. I walked out with nothing, not even the key, in my eagerness to be only with him.
Almost immediately, Dakota tugs it open.
“Oh my god,” she whistles. “You're in so much trouble. Daddy's going to kill you.”
“I'm an adult, not a kid, little sister,” I tell her.
I do feel much more grown up from the experience with Ryan and the promise of our relationship. The expensive clothes he bought me at the resort boutiques help with the facade, until I hear my dad's voice summon me to the living room. I flash a glance back over my shoulder for support but the town car is already sliding up the street.
“Get in here now, Georgia,” Dad's bellow comes from his study beside the kitchen.
He never calls me anything but George unless he's mad at my behavior.
Dakota has her drama face on, same as when punishment was meted to us as kids. She pushes the front door closed then leaps back with a squeal as it's pushed back on her. I whirl around.
“Ryan,” I gasp.
And his face breaks into a massive grin at the first time I've used his name.
“I thought you'd gone.”
He reaches across the threshold to clasp my hand in his huge palm.
“I came back,” he says, drawing me to his side and enveloping me under his arm to pull me in close. “Because I thought you might need me, when I saw the look on your face.”
This is how it should be. A man so in touch with my feelings, aware of what's happening inside not only when I'm about to scream his name while he fucks my brains out, but every day, during the boring shit life throws at me, he's going to be glued to my side.
My father merges into the hall with a face like thunder. He startles at the sight of Ryan Wellman, the name of the ruthless arbitrageur is well known in the city but like me, Daddy didn’t expect him to be so youthful.
And hot. He quickly regroups and my mother appears leaving me to face the three astounded faces of my little family.
“Would you kindly explain to me what you've been up to with my daughter,” he says to Ryan, his face hard as flint.
“I'd be delighted to,” Ryan says. “Is there somewhere we can speak privately?”
I shudder as Ryan frees me with a comforting squeeze. I can trust him not to tell my father too much I hope. He follows Daddy's lead to the rear of the house which struggles to contain his massive aura. The power he exudes threatens to blow out the walls.
Meanwhile, I follow my mother to the kitchen and Dakota, eager not to miss a thing, trails behind.
“Is that dress Miu Miu?” she whines as I remove my coat.
I ignore h
er, nervousness knotting my tongue as shouts emerge from behind the closed door to Daddy's small study. My hands shake as I try to set up the refreshments my mother is preparing.
What the hell are we doing? Does she expect us to all sit down to tea? More likely the roof will come off the house as the two most vibrant, tempestuous, forceful men in my life go at it.
“It'll be okay, Sweetheart,” Mom says with a tone that imbues a promise.
“How can you be sure?”
Am I going to have to choose between my family and Ryan? I know who will win. And it will shatter my heart like glass. But Ryan and I, we're a thing that can't be pulled apart by anything.
“Your father will always protect his girls,” Mom says, rubbing my quivering fingers in her smooth ones. “No matter the age of the suitor, no matter how much power he wields in the city or how many millions he tosses around, your dad will let him know that his intentions had better be genuine or he'll be sorry.”
I feel a little more comforted but still my ears stretch to hear through the wood door, expecting a full on fight to break out. After the initial raised voices, the tone lowers to heated. For some reason I feel like a girl being traded for three head of cattle.
When the men emerge from the office, jaws still rigid but at least animosity isn't filling the kitchen, Ryan comes straight to my side and pulls me in close to him. I peek from under my lashes to my dad's stern gaze and see only love. When I sneak a look at the most beautiful man in the world who has me caged in his powerful arm, there's only the same emotion. Different but equally fierce.
My mom was right. It's all going to be okay.
Epilogue
A week later
Ryan Wellman
Let me make it clear, I'm not a guy that gets into chit chat about my private life.
My feelings for Georgia belong to me as much as her body does.
However I will say it's the sweetest fucking deal having her in my life.
And in my bed.
It took some work to get her and the angel was worth every single exertion.
I'd delivered Georgia a gift for every one of the Twelve Days of Christmas but the last. She had new shoes, purses, dresses and lingerie. Everything she wanted. Plus what I wanted – the bondage suit that looks incredible on her. Like she was born to wear it and gift her body to me.
