Billionaire romance @ forbidden pleasure

Five

Brock

As I lead her out of the building and into the car I ordered, I'm silent. I can't get myself to ask her why she did this, why she put herself in a situation like this. Her hand is small in mine but she doesn't let go once, not even after I slam the car door closed behind us.

"Airport," I say briskly to the driver. I don't recognize him, but I'd prefer that. Had the concierge service I'm a member of sent a driver Idoknow, they might also know Felicia. This is complicated enough without curious eyes.

Once the driver nods at me, I thank him and press the button that raises the privacy divider. After checking my phone to make sure that my assistant got started on requisitioning my a private jet. The confirmation text makes me breathe a sigh of relief.

I glance at Felicia sitting next to me, curled into herself and staring out the darkly tinted window. She doesn't ask why we're going to the airport, and I don't offer a reason.

The little minidress she's wearing is covered almost completely by her jacket—it's that tiny. I can see the goosebumps rising on the velvet soft skin of her thighs. Fire surges through my veins as I fight the urge to pull her into my lap and sooth her.

I've always had a soft spot for her, but what I'm feeling now is different from what I felt even earlier today.

Some beast lurking in the back of my mind reminds me that she's mine now. I've bought her time, paid for the pleasure of taking her virginity. Every inch of skin she's showing is mine to feel and stroke and kiss.
I should take her home. Tell her to borrow clothes from Olivia and just spend the night. I'm sure this has something to do with her fucked up home situation—what else would make her do something like this?

And yet, all I want to do is slide my hands across her skin. Warm her up with my fingers both inside and out. Make her ready for my cock so I can sink into that tight little hole and make her beg for more.

Instead, I'm doing none of that. I'm taking her to the airport, because deep down, I'm still the guy that runs away from choices when it comes to my personal life.

Deep down, I want to see where this leads.

Before I know it, we're pulling into the private airfield's loading zone. Minutes ago, I got a ping from my assistant, telling me that the private concierge service as a jet ready and waiting for me. When I look over at Felicia, her eyes are wide. She's been here before because she's gone on trips with me and my daughter over the years, but she's never been here with me and me alone.

"Are we going to the Hamptons house?" she finally asks.

"The Colorado house," I reply.

The first hint of a real smile, rather than the strange, stoic silence she's had since we left the club, takes over her face. "I love it there."

"I know," I say, just as the car gets thrown into park. I can't risk us being somewhere where I'll be interrupted. Not only could Olivia suddenly show up, but my assistant could track me down to sign something. Worse yet, I know for a fact that I've got dozens of texts from my associates, asking where I am and how my "conquest" is going. Knowing them, they'd track me down, and they'd be sure to go to the Hamptons house just to spoil ... whatever it is I'm going to do with Felicia.

As we walk through the airport, I rest my hand against her waist and pull her close. as we go up the steps into the jet. She leans into the touch. It feels almost too natural.

"Is that why you're taking me there?"

I nod, unable to speak otherwise. She's ahead of me on the stairs up to the plane, and her sumptuous ass in that tight little dress has wiped my brain of the ability to think coherently. Even securing ourselves in seats for taxi-ing to the take-off lane is a blur because all I can think about is flipping that tiny little skirt up and fucking her over the side of the plush plane seat.