3 BOOK BUNDLE: Flown By The Billionaire I, II, & III (7 page)

W
hen we landed in Paris
several hours later, we were both cleaned up, calmer, and looked, to all the
world, as if nothing had happened. Of course, it didn’t seem that way to the
two of us. I was incapable of keeping my eyes off him for long, and it seemed
he was suffering from a similar problem.

He gestured for me to exit the plane first and I found a car
waiting for us. Alex thanked the driver and took the keys from him, inviting me
to jump in the front passenger seat.

As he drove the twenty minutes or so to the hotel, he kept
one hand on my thigh, lazily drawing patterns with the pads of his fingers. “Do
you feel guilty now?” he asked out of nowhere.

“No,” I replied, without having to give the question much
thought.

“Honest?” he probed.

“Honest,” I confirmed, smiling at him. “It feels different
with you. I’m different with you,” I added, contemplatively.

“Good,” he grinned.

We stayed at La Tremoille, the most luxurious hotel I’d ever
set foot in. I felt somewhat out of place as we walked into the large,
high-ceilinged lobby. I felt even more out of place, when we were led to the
lavish one-bedroom suite, which was larger than the apartment I’d had in New
York. With light gray carpet throughout, there was a massive living room with
circular table by the floor-to-ceiling windows, three armchairs, a sofa, a
coffee table, and a massive flat-screen television above a fireplace.

Next door was a queen-size bed with blindingly white
bedding, yet another chair and, just in case, another television. Then, there
was the bathroom with corner tub, separate shower cubicle, and at least a dozen
big, fluffy red towels on two racks.

Once we’d been given the tour and Alex tipped the porter
who’d carried our bags, I stared at him with wide eyes.

“It’s nice, huh?” he asked, stroking a casual hand through
his mahogany hair.

“Uh, yeah,” I nodded. “It’s very nice.”

Standing near the door, he slipped his hands into his
pockets. “So, you hungry?”

I remained near the threshold of the bedroom, leaning
against the doorframe. “Not right now,” I responded.

“You want to see some of the city?” he suggested.

“Not right now,” I repeated.

“Okay,” he smiled. “Then what do you want to do right now?”

“Come here,” I requested, holding out my hand for him.

His grin broadened and for a moment, it looked as though he
might insist I come to him instead. However, the expression faded and he tugged
his hands free of his pants as he walked across the living room. When he was
within arm’s reach, he offered me his hand and I slipped my slender fingers
through his.

“I want you to not make me feel guilty again,” I whispered,
looking up at him with a small, hopeful smile.

Tilting his face down to mine, he cupped my cheek in his
free hand. “You’re so beautiful,” he mumbled. Gently, he pressed his lips to
mine, before coaxing me slowly back into the bedroom.

It wasn’t long until we were both naked. I was on my back in
the middle of the large, soft bed and Alex was sliding between my parted
thighs. He entered me smoothly, his lips kissing me tenderly as he glided
forward until his hips struck mine.

It was not as frantic and bestial as our joining on the
plane. The heat of desperation had been tempered slightly, but there was
passion and intensity of a different kind. It was not the need to reach climax
that motivated Alex, it was the need to express something. Exactly what that
was, I was unable to say.

Sliding my feet up toward my buttocks, I felt the large head
of his shaft bump my cervix. “Ugh, so big,” I mumbled into his mouth, our
tongues separated momentarily.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, lifting his face and pulling his
hips back. “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” I assured him, with eyes that tried to focus on him,
but found it difficult to fix on anything. “No,” I repeated, smiling.

He still looked concerned, his brow knitted slightly.

Chuckling, I lifted my hands to his face and took it in both
hands. “I love it when you’re deep inside me,” I told him softly, the fingers
of my right hand smoothing over his cheek and curling around the back of his
head. Tugging him down to me, I kissed him, sucking his lower lip into my
mouth. Slowly releasing it, I grinned at him. “I love your big, hard cock
filling me,” I added, in a sultry whisper, surprising myself that I could use
the word ‘cock’ and not blush. In fact, I was surprised I could use the word
‘cock’ at all.

 He seemed a little taken aback by it, too. However, he was
apparently too turned on by it to dwell over it for any length of time. His
lower half burst into motion once again, impaling me with the firm, strong
stokes that made me want to scream with ecstasy though I bit down on my lip,
concerned that people in the next room would hear.

“Say it again,” he panted, his eyes staring down at me as
his upper half hovered above, undulated back and forth.

“Ugh,” I moaned, tilting my hips to achieve more pressure on
my clitoris. “Alex,” I whimpered. “I love your cock,” I cried, the quakes of
climax causing me to lose control of my limbs.

“Ugh, yeah,” he growled, slamming into me with renewed
vigor. “Mel,” he panted, his entire body turning rigid. “I love…” he groaned.
“I love…” Hips jerking uncontrollably, he released his orgasm into me. “I love
you,” he whispered, his face flopping forward until his forehead was resting on
mine. 

It was several moments before I released what he’d said and,
even then, I couldn’t be sure whether he’d meant it or had intended to say
something else. By the time, I plucked up the courage to ask him, he was easing
himself off me and suggesting that we go out to eat. By that point, it seemed
the opportune moment to mention it had passed. Besides, if he hadn’t meant it
or I’d misheard him, I was happier not knowing.

That afternoon, Alex took me to lunch at a small bistro just
around the corner from the hotel. We sat outside, sipping on large glasses of
fruity red wine. He tugged his chair close to mine so that his thick thigh was
brushing against my leg. We chatted, unable to stop smiling at each other and,
I think, both a little drunk on post-orgasmic euphoria.

“Still worried that I don’t respect you?” he asked, the
fingers of his right hand lifting to my face and sweeping the loose hair away
from my cheek.

“I guess not,” I replied, mirroring the lazy smile I found
gazing at me. “But…” I added thoughtfully.

“Mel,” he responded as if sensing the cause of my hesitancy.
“I don’t want people that we work with to think that this is just some fling…or
worse,” he muttered the last two words, no doubt thinking of what Nathan had
said earlier in the week. “Because you mean so much more to me than that. And I
really don’t want to sneak around as if we’re doing something wrong. So, I
promise, we will work something out.”

“I don’t care what other people think,” I assured him,
reaching under the table and stroking his muscular thigh with my hand. “As long
as I know what you think, that’s all that matters.”

“Right,” he agreed, grinning. “And I think-”

A shrill voice cut through our private, peaceful moment.
“Alex?”

Tearing his eyes from me, his head followed the call of his
name and landed on a tall woman with a shoulder-length bob of brunette hair.
She was dressed in a red cocktail dress, bosom almost bursting free of it and
long legs stretching out for what seemed like forever. She wore large
sunglasses, which she was holding perched on her head so she could get a better
view of the man by my side.

“Katherine,” Alex replied, surprise and discomfort evident
in his face.

“I didn’t know you were planning a trip to Europe,” she
stated in her refined, but very nasal, accent. I thought a detected a little
Bronx that no amount of polish could obliterate.

“Business,” Alex shrugged,

“Yes,” she smiled, her serpentine eyes moving swiftly to me,
“I can see that.”

“Umm, Melissa, this is Katherine,” Alex murmured, gesturing
between the two of us. “Katherine, this is Melissa.”

“Hi,” I greeted, awkwardly.

“Hmm,” she nodded in amusement.

“Is Fin with you?” Alex asked.

Finally, he’d given me the context I had needed. However,
the realization of who this woman was did not come with any pleasant emotion.
His ex-wife, the woman who had given him a son. Before, she’d been faceless,
nameless; a shadow. Now, she was flesh and bone, and very attractive flesh and
bone at that. The thought that he’d made love to her caused a stab of jealousy
to sear at the pit of my stomach.

“I’m sorry, Alex is so rude,” Katherine sighed, still facing
me and ignoring his question. “I’m sure you have no idea who I am. I’m Mrs.
Race, his wife.”

“Ex-wife,” I responded, unable to prevent the venom with
which I spat the words.

Her ruby red lips opened in a predatory smile. She glanced
between Alex and me before settling on him. “Is that what you told her?”
Laughing, she slipped the glasses from her head and placed them back on her
nose. “Oh, no, no, honey,” she insisted. “Alex and I are still very much
married.”

Snapping my face to Alex, I found him staring pensively at
the surface of the table. Saying nothing, I begged him to set her straight; to
tell me that she was lying. However, he remained silent and, as the seconds
ticked by, it became clear that she hadn’t lied.

“Well,” she joyfully sighed. “I’ll leave you two to your
meal.” Her heels clipping on cobbled stones, she strode down the street.

“Oh, God,” I whispered, the reality beginning to seep in.
“Oh, God,” I repeated a little louder. “You lied to me,” I hissed.

“No, I didn’t,” he said, turning to face me with pleading
eyes. “I didn’t lie to you.”

“Are you still married to her?” I demanded.

He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. Inhaling
deeply, he tried once more. “Yes,” he replied, his eyes unblinking.
“Technically,” he stressed, “we are still married. But it
is
over, Mel.”

“I can’t believe this,” I muttered, pushing my chair out
with a loud scrape and jumping to my feet. “I trusted you,” I ranted. “I’ve
given more of myself to you than anybody else, and, the whole time, you’ve been
married
.” The feeling of betrayal was like a hot poker stuffed right
through my heart. I had opened up to him, allowed him to see sides of me no
other man had ever seen. I’d felt secure enough with him to let go and, for the
first time, express myself sexually. But it hadn’t been the wonderful,
emotional, almost spiritual experience I’d imagined it to be. It had been
nothing more than a dirty work affair.

“Where are you going?” he asked, snatching hold of my wrist.
“Melissa, you have to listen to me.”

“No,” I replied, pulling my hand angrily free from him while
tears I refused to let him see pricked the back of my eyes. “I don’t want to
listen. I can’t be near you right now.” I bolted from the table, walking
quickly to the end of the street and back toward the hotel.

All the way, I sensed Alex following me and knew that he
wasn’t going to accept my refusal to talk. Inevitably, he would catch up with
me in the room. With those handsome eyes, I knew how easy it would be for him
to charm be back into his bed. I could not allow that to happen. I may have
been willing to abandon many things my religious upbringing instilled in me,
but my moral values (regardless or religion) simply could not allow me to be
the ‘other woman’.

Steeling myself, I was determined not to let anything he
said…or did soften my rage toward him.

To be
continued…

Flown By The Billionaire III

By

Carla Davis

A
fter being laid off
from her job in finance, Melissa Cannagh, was forced to leave her New York
apartment and move back in with her parents. The sleepy Connecticut town of her
childhood and the overbearing attitude of her mom and dad soon became too much
for Melissa – and she determined to take
any
job that will get her back
on her feet.

However, the job she was eventually offered is one she had
not envisaged herself doing and had no experience in: cabin crew for a private
jet. And to complicate her life, she found herself attracted to Alex Race, the
handsome billionaire who is her new employer.

Having had a strict Catholic upbringing, Melissa considers
herself relatively inexperienced when it comes to sex and relationships.
Although she no longer follows the religion, years of brainwashing led her to
find physical intimacy to be a guilt-ridden experience with all three of her
past boyfriends.  But as she’s drawn ever more closely to Alex Race, she feels
frenzied desires she has never known before. Even though he attempts to keep a
professional distance from the young woman, the tension between them inevitably
bursts in a passionate encounter during one of the flights.

Despite her concerns that Alex Race sees her as little more
than an executive toy, Melissa knows she’s falling hard and tries to avoid him
in the hopes of protecting her heart. However, when her boss asks her to
accompany him on a business trip to Paris, her yearning to revisit the
sensations he awakened in her is too much to bear.

The trip starts well; Alex is affectionate as well as
passionate. Melissa realizes she’s opening herself to him in a way she never
intended, and has never done with any other man. She even begins to let herself
believe that he cares as much for her as she does for him.

But one afternoon at a small Parisian bistro, a beautiful
woman approaches the pair and introduces herself as Alex’s wife.