Instead, there was no time for romantic anything. All either one of them could do was hang on for dear life against the unbelievable turbulence and pray for their lives. At least neither had to use the barf bags so thoughtfully provided by their pilot.
The plane hit a particularly deep pocket of dead air and dropped quickly. He looked over at Eliza's green face. He felt the answering swirl in his stomach.
Yet...
Whatever had possessed him to think of wooing this woman with a business trip to Alaska? He should have stuck with Bermuda like his best friend had suggested. But no, he had to try to do things in the roundabout way. He'd thought this would be more romantic. Alone, surrounded by rustic yet well-heeled beauty in southeastern Alaska. Nothing to do but make love in front of a roaring fire, make love snuggled on a deep feather bed, make love anywhere their hearts desired.
It had taken a bit of planning and maneuvering on his part. He'd had to pay a hefty fee to convince the owner they should be the only ones renting the ten-room lodge for this weekend.
And this pilot and plane, which didn't look anything like the picture on the internet website, had cost much more than a weekend jaunt to Bermuda would have.
Well, next time, he promised himself, he would not try subversion. Next time... Good God, he hoped he never again had to trick this woman into joining him, but if there was a next time, he was just going to do something normal.
Trick Eliza Montgomery. That was what this had come down to. He'd been too afraid she'd turn him down, so instead of just taking the chance and asking her out like any other normal woman, he'd chickened out.
He told himself it was because he didn't want her to think she had to go out with him because of her job. He'd wanted to do something worthy of a hero in a romance novel.
Now, instead of just winning over his elusive executive assistant's heart, he had to keep her from throwing up.
* * * *
Poor Mr. Johnson, Eliza thought as she saw the angry twitching along the strong muscle of his jaw. He's not a happy camper.
If she wasn't so busy battling airsickness, she might feel sorry for him. Obviously he'd expected something a little flashier and modern from the company he was hoping to do business with. He had been expecting to be met by the company officials, not some scruffy looking bush pilot who appeared to be lost in the '60s--1860s, that is. The pilot also--she sniffed and wrinkled her nose--either had a severe gland problem or hadn't seen a bar of soap in a month of Sundays. She laughed at the thought.
"Did you say something?" Clayton turned and looked at her as he yelled the question over the sound of the engines.
Eliza looked at him and decided to give the guy a break. After all, this wasn't his fault. "No," she replied. "At least the scenery is special. Look."
He leaned over and looked out the window on her side, his arm brushing hers and his rock hard thigh edging against her leg. Eliza's breath caught at the electric thrill that moved through her. She imagined his strength holding her, molding her, as they brought each other to the edge of ecstasy.
She shook her head at her whimsy. He would not be bringing her to the edge of anything. Not as long as she looked the way she did. He looked like a Greek God. Today, dressed down in jeans that fit him as faithfully as a lover, a cotton flannel shirt that molded his rock hard abs and perfectly developed pecs, shoulders and arms, and rugged work boots, Clayton Johnson looked like a strapping lumberjack, ready to rescue a damsel in distress.
He looked like he would still have the stamina to hammer into said damsel all day and all night. Her eyes lingered on his package, encased in denim but still obvious, and her mouth watered.
She realized he was looking at her oddly and stammered as she felt the blush riding to her cheeks. "I'm sorry...what did you say?"
"I said you're right. The scenery is special. So are you."
Eliza felt a different kind of thrill move through her. She felt her smile widen. "Why thank you, Mr. Johnson. I thought you'd never notice."
"Call me Clay, please. After all, we're in the back of beyond. I think some of the office formality can be lost, don't you?"
"Yes," she agreed. "I'm not a big fan of formality."
He smiled. Eliza responded. Mr. Johnson, er, Clay was always handsome, but when that smile of his widened across his sensuous full lips and lit up those wonderful eyes, he was mouthwateringly perfect.
"I've noticed that," he said. He looked like he was about to say more when suddenly the plane banked sharply. The plane skimmed over the top of lush, evergreen trees so dense Liza wondered if any human had seen them from the ground up in decades. Though she knew there was no danger, she caught her breath. The tops looked so close that she could have reached out and touched them.
Then, as if startled by their appearance, a beautiful eagle took flight racing even with their plane before peeling out away from them as if tired of playing with silly humans.
The plane turned again and suddenly the forest dropped away. Below, glistening in the bright sun was a perfect lake. Although there was snow covered ice stretching out from the shoreline, it must have been nearly as deep as at its center as Lake Erie because there the water was such a pure blue Liza could see the darker shapes of fish skimming along under the surface.
As they came down, their water landing gear touching the lake, a huge log cabin came into view at the far end. She caught her breath at the sheer beauty of the picture.
"Oh, look," she exclaimed. "Isn't it wonderful?"
This was just like Satin's story "Alaskan Desire," only much more vivid. There was snow, of course, but it looked even whiter than it did when it glistened on Lake Erie at home. As beautiful as the scenery was, she realized that the man sitting next to her was even more capable of stealing her breath. The hero in "Alaskan Desire" had been a lumberjack with a cock like a saber saw. When she closed her eyes, she saw her boss dressed in work boots and nothing else.
It would take all her control to keep from jumping his bones the minute they landed.
* * * *
Clay smiled. Finally, things were beginning to be what he expected. He looked around the luxurious cabin as their pilot set their luggage on the floor. There was a great room with gleaming hardwood floors, a long, comfortable sofa, a couple of chairs that looked big enough to easily fit two people in front of a mammoth stone fireplace. There was a fire burning cheerfully and a huge bearskin rug taking up the bulk of the floor space in front of it. His palms itched with the overwhelming desire to see a naked Eliza lounging on the rug in front of the fire.
"Wow," she said, echoing his thoughts. "I can't say much for the trip in, but this place is fantastic."
"Yes," he agreed.
She walked forward into the large room. His gaze lingered on the way her leggings faithfully outlined her stupendous ass. Now, his fingers and his cock itched for another reason.
He reached in his pocket, grabbed a wad of cash without looking and handed it to the pilot. He took the hint and left them alone.
Clayton moved forward following Eliza as she wandered through the first level of the house. It was a little disconcerting because each room they entered put fantasies in his mind of what he would like to do with his assistant.
In the kitchen, as she exclaimed over the state of art commercial stove and work island, he saw himself lifting her on top of said counter. She would gasp in surprise, but would soon warm up to their activities.
Suddenly, something inside him snapped. He'd been fantasying about being with her in a situation like this from the day she'd started to work for him. Now, he couldn't wait any longer. With her back facing him, he walked over and wrapped his arms around her waist pulling her luscious ass full against his cock.
"Mr. Johnson," she screeched.
"For God's sake, call me Clay," he murmured. Incredibly, he felt her butt cheeks flexing. The result created a natural canal that measured him like a leather glove. He lowered his head and nibbled on her neck. It was like tasting a
mbrosia. He'd been dying to find out if the scent she wore day in and day out at the office was bottled or something else.
As a wave of cinnamon and spice drifted over him, he knew the smell was uniquely Eliza. Over the year-and-a-half she'd worked for him, he'd found himself waking up in the middle of the night with a raging hard-on with that exact smell lingering through his mind.
When she gasped and tilted her neck to give his mouth better access, he took advantage, nibbling his way from her ear lobe down to the tender indentation of her shoulder. At the same time, his hands moved up from her waist and gently stroked the edges of her breasts. Even through her sweater, he could feel the wonderful weight of them. Her hand moved and rubbed through his hair at the crown of his head. He raised his head. He had to give her one chance to stop things before it was too late. If she said no now, he didn't know how he'd handle it, but he knew he had to give her the chance.
"Eliza," he said, turning her so she faced him. "You make the choice."
Her eyes were glorious, luminous with her desire. He felt hope burgeoning along with every thing else south of his border.
"On the rug or in the bed?" she purred.
"Both." He wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her off the floor. She laughed along with him as their lips met in a hungry kiss that soon turned their sounds to moans.
She was sweet and tangy at the same time as his tongue darted across her lips and entered her mouth to explore the taste and textures he found there. Hot, wet heat met his tongue, along with just a hint of the spearmint gum she had chewed in the airplane to keep her ears from popping.
He finally broke off the kiss long moments later. She leaned her head against his chest and he knew she could feel the racing of his heart. The way her breath was rasping through her lips told him she was just as excited as he. He bent slightly and then put an arm under her legs, picking her up and striding rapidly into the living room. The bedroom would definitely have to wait for round two.
He laid her gently down on the bearskin rug and leaned back on his heels with his hands on his thighs. She smiled at him before removing her sweater. He caught his breath as the flesh of her midriff was slowly revealed to him. It was white and just a bit rounded. He felt himself getting even harder, if possible, at the sight of her luscious body being revealed to him.
That was the only real problem here. Things were not progressing fast enough. He felt the need for speed. Hoping she'd get the hint, he tore off his own clothes and threw them behind him. Finally, he was kneeling in front of her, naked and with his cock standing at full alert. For a second, just a second, he had that flash of insecurity. Would she find him pleasing? Too big? Or God help him, too small?
"God, you're beautiful," she murmured, licking her lips. Her tongue left a light trail of moisture over her ruby red lips and he felt his balls swelling, drawing tightly against his body in arousal, all insecurities forgotten.
Her sweater was now off and his eyes feasted on the bounty of her full breasts. The black lace of her bra was a stark counterpoint to her creamy skin but also hid her nipples from him. He wondered if they would be the same color as her lips or something deeper. He reached forward and gently ran a finger over her, tracing the outline of lace from where it met the bra's strap to the cleavage the cup formed. He dipped his pinky into that crevice and watched as her nostrils flared and her eyes widened in pleasure.
"You're so responsive," he murmured before bending his head to let his lips and tongue follow the journey his fingers had completed.
While his mouth was busy discovering the tastes and textures, his hands weren't idle. With his left, he walked his fingers down her spine, over the waistband of her slacks and down to cup her right butt cheek, squeezing and releasing the soft flesh encased in knit. With his right hand, he dipped underneath the material covering her left breast until he could pluck her turgid nipple. It was hard and he couldn't help but press and pull on it.
"Oh, God, Clay," she moaned. "Please."
"Oh, I intend to. Please us both." He dispatched her bra and took his first complete look at her unbound breasts. He gasped.
They were heavy with thin blue veins just barely visible under her ivory skin, and her large areolas were just a shade darker than her ruby lips. And they were his.
He suckled first the right, drawing the nipple and as much of her breast as he could deep into his mouth. He drew his tongue slowly over her, pressing the nipple against the roof of his mouth to gain the most friction. He could happily stay there for a lifetime, but there was so much more to explore that he knew he need to move on.
He pulled his mouth from her and ran his finger around the puckered areola, delighting in the moan that escaped her mouth. He switched his attention to the left nipple.
When both tips were wet from his saliva and she was gasping his name and thrusting her breasts eagerly toward him, he pushed her mounds together and took both nipples in his mouth at once.
He felt the orgasm start at the top of her body and roll all the way through her. It was so intense it shook him to the core as well.
Then Clay Johnson did something he hadn't done in decades. He lost complete control and came all over her, his cream soaking her pants.
Chapter 3
* * *
He was still for a moment then hurriedly pulled away. What an idiot, he thought. I'm acting like a boy experiencing his first throes of passion.
He turned back to apologize to her, but stopped before uttering a word when he saw the smug look on her face.
"Well, cowboy, that was a rocket ride," she said before she stood, and removed her pants and panties.
She was shaved as bare as a baby and he could see the glistening moisture on her pussy lips. He turned onto his knees and moved back toward her. His hands wrapped around her butt and pulled her to him.
"Let me see if I can make things last a little longer this time," he murmured then buried his face in her pussy.
* * * *
Eliza closed her eyes and held his head against her as she felt his mouth worshipping her. Her breath stuttered out as his nose separated the folds of her labia and his tongue flicked across her slit.
This felt much better than she imagined when reading "Alaskan Desire" was the only thought in her head.
When Clay's tongue flicked once, then twice over her nub before sucking it deeply into his mouth, she felt as if he was pulling her soul right out of her body.
Finally, he pulled his mouth away from her. She could see the evidence of her arousal lingering on his lips. She fell to her knees and cupped his huge testicles in her hands. He had brought her so much pleasure. The least she could do was return the favor. She reached for his nipples.
Moving slowly, her hand traced its way down his chest, following the line of black hair as it arrowed its way past rock-hard abs. She knew he had a membership at one of Buffalo's most exclusive gyms. She could see he had taken advantage of it, and felt a momentary pang at the fact her body would never grace the cover of any fitness magazine.
As she traced a circle around his belly button, she put the last thought from her mind. There was no room for insecurities here. And, as his cock waved his arousal at her, she did what came naturally. She placed her fingers at the base and then licked him from the bottom to the very top with one slow, unending swipe. When she reached the slit, she used the tip of her tongue to delve deeply, tasting the remnants of his last orgasm. It was sweet and tangy with just the right amount of salt. His hand clenched her hair, holding her still against him.
She willingly took the hint and sucked the bulbous head into her mouth, letting her teeth scrape gently against the ridge just under the mushroom top. It was like licking a hot, seductive lollypop. But this was like no lollypop she'd ever had before. This was hot, hard steel wrapped in the most deliciously soft coating.
She knew how to give a man oral sex. She'd had done a lot of research on the internet. But somehow she forgot all the techniques she'd learned, simply
reveling in the feel and taste of him.
Time after time, she used her tongue to circle his head, loving the way it was so smooth on the top but slightly rougher at the bottom. And then there was his slit. It was now oozing freely and she felt something deep inside thrill at the response she had produced in him.
The books had all said the taste of come shouldn't be overwhelming in healthy men. But nowhere had she read that it could be addictive. Eliza knew she was becoming addicted to the taste of Clay on her tongue. Yet the most amazing thing was the way his increasing arousal was being telegraphed to her depths and doubling in its strength. She felt her juices redoubling and warming her inner lips.
"God, Liza. Stop or take more," he grunted. "You're killing me."
She stopped, unsure of her self. Could she be causing him pain? When she opened her mouth a bit more to ask, he pushed his cock into her mouth, and she took as much of his length as she could.
His answering moans of delight answered her question. He pounded himself into her mouth. She felt herself getting even hotter. She moved her head up and down on his shaft feeling his cock harden even further, and wrapped her tongue around the head to taste every inch of him.
Just when she was certain he was about to come again, he pulled away.
"Stop," he grunted.
She grinned mischievously and lowered her head again. He grabbed a clump of hair and pulled her back gently.
"No. This time, I'm going to be buried deep inside your beautiful cunt when I come. No substitutions."
She grinned. When he pushed her back against the rug, she went willingly. Soon she was lying on her back, her legs bent slightly. He fingered her pussy, rubbing her juices around her outer lips and then gently fingering her clit before moving between her legs. His cock entered her. She wanted nothing more than to feel every one of his nine hard inches, and just not an inch at a time. She reached for him trying to hurry things along.
The Business Trip Page 2
