The Truth About Numbnuts and Chubbs(30)

"Not yet." She moved back to her chair. "Will you consider some amendments to the contract?"

"I told you I don't barter. I don't negotiate. You know exactly what I want. It's in that document in plain, straightforward terms of employment."

"Then I guess I'll keep my skills to myself. Pity, I was looking forward to drinking you down. Every last drop."

A thin sheen of sweat glistened on his brow and he grabbed his cock in one fist, as if he might jerk off there and then. "I'll spill right now then and you won't get any."

She chuckled. "Ok. If you like." Carefully she parted her legs, just enough to show a teasing glimpse. "Do you like my landing strip? I thought it was appropriate."

"Get it over here. I've got an incoming flight."

"You don't even know what my terms would be, but you won't listen. You just can't stand letting any woman lay down the rules for you, Petruska."

"You're supposed to be wearing panties," he muttered thickly.

"Tsk, tsk." She hitched her skirt a little higher, quite casually. "Aren't I bad? You see, I'd never make a good slave." Bry could almost feel the heat of his fierce stare targeted between her thighs. She was wet already, enjoying herself, changing his rules. "If you're going to sit there jerking off, you won't mind if I please myself."

The knob of his cock was dark red and shining with cum. His heavy balls hung there, full and waiting. She could still taste them on her tongue. "Go ahead," he grunted.

Bry's pulse skipped. He was going to try and resist? Too funny.

She took a clean teaspoon from the tray, moved her skirt all the way up to her hips and tapped the cool metal against her pussy lips. His eyes widened and she saw him swallow. With the teaspoon she paddled herself lightly, squirming in the butter-soft leather seat, listening to her own breath as it shortened and quickened. The sensation of the cold spoon on her heated flesh brought her up a very fast hill and then she slowed, pausing to rub the bowl of the spoon up and down her labia.

Ben had stopped pulling on his cock. His hands went back to the chair arms, as if he was determined to hold back.

She began to spank her cunt faster and a little harder with spoon, chasing herself back up that naughty hill. The teaspoon fell to the carpet and she used her fingers, rubbing frantically.

He was on the floor two seconds later, eating her pussy through her splayed fingers, thrusting her thighs apart with his strong hands.

"Ouch."

"Hmmm." He devoured her roughly and she came with a low squeal, partly in anguish that she couldn't hold off. His eager, talented mouth forced it out of her.

When she opened her eyes, she caught the steward peeking around his curtain, getting an eye full and then the handsome co-pilot's face appeared too. She hoped to god someone was still flying the plane.



* * * *



She straddled his lap, her breasts knocking into his face, her ass bouncing in his cupped hands. The seat belt light flashed on but this ride was already bumpy. He doubted they'd notice if it stalled midair.

The friction of her tight hot body on his condom-coated rod was surely enough to cause sparks, but he didn't want it to stop. He pushed upward, spearing her each time she came down, claiming her over and over.

He'd make certain she signed that contract, because he wanted this on a more official footing. She needn't imagine he'd let her win the upper hand, because he knew exactly what he wanted—no more and no less. If she was thinking about marriage she was on the wrong man's cock, because there was no way in hell he'd ever succumb to that evil little constitution. He didn't want the permanent responsibility and he didn't trust anyone enough to let them fully into his life. It was always best to set boundaries, keep it moving. He didn't fall into traps; he made them.

Spanking her ass, he closed his lips over the nearest primed nipple and wiggled his tongue around it. Thought she could pretend an orgasm, huh? Not likely. He knew a real one when he felt it, and her entire body trembled when she hit that peak. The co-pilot and the steward were enjoying the show and that seemed to increase her pleasure. Apparently he had an exhibitionist on his hands.

"Naughty Ms. Mulligan," he whispered, pressing his lips to her other nipple. "I thought you were shy."

"I am," she panted. "I don't know what came over me."

Neither did he. But he knew what was coming inside her. All weekend.





Chapter Nine



The sky was an incredible turquoise blue and the air surrounded her shoulders in a warm cotton-soft shrug. After the dreary weather they left behind in New York, stepping off the plane and into bright sun was like landing on the moon. It took her a moment to adjust to the heat and then they were in a limousine, gliding along in air-conditioned comfort.