Page 139 of Texting, Trouble & Touchdowns
Lucian: I’ll unzip my bag mid-flight. Not for a toy. For something a little more . . . inventive. You know that solid metal stir stick they put in the drink glasses?
Lucian: Yeah. That. I’ll press the smooth, cool end to your lips first. Then I’ll tell you to turn around, hands on the seat in front of you.
Olivia: Lucian . . .
Lucian: You’ll feel it slide between your thighs before you even finish saying my name. The handle curves just right. I’ll fuck you with it slow. Real slow. Just enough to make your knees tremble and your voice catch.
Lucian: Then I’ll take it out and make you put it in your mouth again. Taste yourself. While I sit back and unzip my pants.
Olivia: There’s more?
Lucian: You think I’m done?
Lucian: Once your pretty little panties are soaked and that needy little sigh escapes your throat, I’ll pull you onto my lap, your back to my chest, and slide inside you.
Lucian: One hand around your throat. The other teases your clit until you’re shaking for me, whispering my name like it’s the only word you remember.
Olivia: I’m not going to make it through this flight, am I?
Lucian: Oh, you’ll make it. Barely. But only because I want you conscious when I come in you thirty thousand feet above ground and make you promise me it won’t be the last time you misbehave on my jet.
Lucian: You in, princess?
Olivia: I’m already wet. Does that count as boarding early?
Lucian: That counts as mine. Fasten your seatbelt. We’re not landing anytime soon.
Lucian: I’ll tell the pilot to circle a few extra times. No rush to land when I’ve got you spread open in the sky. You want me to tell you what else we can be doing?
Olivia: I should say no.
Lucian: But you want it. You want to hear it all. You want me to tell you that I’ll bend you over the leather couch near the minibar. Legs shaking. Cheeks flushed. That little whimper in your throat when I tell you not to drop the spoon, no matter how deep I push it. You feel all that, baby?
Olivia: Fuck, Lucian.
Lucian: That’s the plan.
Lucian: And when I replace it with my cock, you’ll moan so loud the pilot’s going to think we hit turbulence.
Lucian: But I’ll keep your mouth busy.
Maybe I’ll use my tie—wrap it around your throat while I fuck into you from behind, slow and deep. Pull it every time you clench. You like that, don’t you? Giving up control in my hands?
Olivia: I hate how much I love that.
Lucian: No, you don’t. You crave it. In fact, when I get home, you want me to show you exactly what I’m talking about. But that’s for later.
Lucian: And after I’ve ruined that sweet little pussy with my cock, I’ll lay you back on the table and eat you until you’re begging me to stop. I won’t. I want you squirming. Want you sobbing my name. Want you ruined for anyone else.
Olivia: You already did that.
Lucian: I haven’t even started, baby.
Lucian: You know the crystal champagne stopper?
Olivia: . . . Lucian.
Lucian: Oh yeah. Smooth, rounded tip. Just thick enough. Perfect to stretch you open while I watch, stroking myself.
