"Drinks?" A flight attendant saunters over. Her eyes drink Marcello up from head to toe.
"I'll have a Blue Label," Marcello tells her, looking at me expectantly. "Do you want champagne?"
A small giggle escapes me. Because… hell, I'm on a private jet, owned by my gorgeous fiancée, on my way to the Maldives. Hell yes, I want some champagne. "Yes, please."
"If you need anything else, please let me know. My name is Stacy," she says, actually looking at me for a few seconds.
"Thank you, Stacy."
The captain's voice comes over the speaker, announcing that we'll be taking off in a few minutes and that the flight will last a little over seventeen hours, with a stop in Dubai for refueling. I can't suppress another giggle, Dubai!
Stacy returns with our drinks, and Marcello smirks at me, "Cheers."
"Cheers," we clink glasses, and I feel like Cinder-fucking-ella. After she found her prince, obviously.
After a few hours and a delicious dinner, the novelty of being on a plane wears off. Marcello has his laptop in front of him, and I stare at the darkening sky. I fidget a little, looking for a pillow and blanket to settle in for the night.
"Are you tired?" Marcello asks, always observant.
"Getting there," I admit.
"Well, let's go join the mile high club and then get some shut-eye. Tomorrow we'll be in the Maldives." He winks.
"Mile high club?" I ask, looking toward the front of the plane where our guards sit, playing poker or napping. There is a small bathroom there as well as the kitchen where Stacy prepped our dinner and mixed our drinks. I don't see anything private enough for the two of us, though.
Marcello rises, holding out his hand, "Come." His grin deepens, and he leads me toward the end of the plane. I noticed this door before and assumed it led to another bathroom, but I haven't needed to go yet, so I didn't investigate.
My mouth drops open when he leads me not into the assumed bathroom—well, there is one of those, too—but into a luxurious bedroom. The bed, at least king-sized, if not bigger, seems to hover over the gray carpeted ground. Light spills out from underneath it, changing the carpet's color to a light blue. A small vanity table stands on one side, holding my cosmetic case. Two more leather seats are in another corner, facing, like the bed, an oversized TV screen.
With a squeal, I throw myself on the bed, finding the mattress just as luxurious as the one in our penthouse. Smirking, Marcello closes the door before he walks over to the bed like an approaching predator. I don't think I'll ever get tired of watching him undress. That, just like the man himself, is a work of art. First, he takes off the cufflinks—his jacket came off after we boarded—placing them on the vanity next to my cosmetic case, then he unbuttons his vest and shirt, exposing that rock-hard, chiseled chest of his. Slowly, I crawl forward on the bed, not missing how his hot gaze watches my every move.
I raise myself on my knees and help him out of the vest, followed by his shirt. I begin to kiss the bulging muscles exposed to me, tracing the dark ink on his chest, while he stands still, tolerating my indulgence. My fingers fumble with his belt and undo his fly before gravity pulls his pants down. His briefs need a little bit more work, but I manage.
"My turn," he growls in a deep voice.
Obediently, I move to get off the bed, but he shakes his head. "No, stay right there."
The bed isn't very high off the ground, just high enough to get us eye level with me standing on it. I lift my arms so he can pull my gray sweater off, then he reaches around me to open the zipper of my pencil skirt. His hands move to my ass the moment the skirt drops, squeezing my cheeks hard enough to elicit a smallwhelpfrom me, but not too hard to make it unbearable. To my surprise, heat floods my pussy at the rough handling.
"You have the most perfect ass in the world," he says, continuing to knead my cheeks.
He bends down, and his mouth reaches for my stiff nipple, still covered by my bra. That doesn't deter him, as he licks the material and nips. My breathing elevates just from these touches, and I stutter when his teeth pull the shoulder strap down. He licks the swell of my breasts before he tugs the material down, exposing my breasts fully. Anticipation fills me and floods my pussy. Heat spreads through me before he licks my nipple, flicking it with his tongue. The moment it makes contact with my flesh, my knees weaken. The pleasure he's already giving me is simply un-fucking-believable.
"Those tits of yours are heaven," he mumbles around my nipple before he nips at it again. His teeth graze against the stiff bud, and I suck in a sharp breath. The sensation is so intense, it's like all my nerve endings are electrically charged.
My underwear is drenched, and he reaches to pull them off me, spreading my legs, moving lower to lick me in between.
"No," I pant.
His head comes up in surprise. "No?"
"I want your cock, Marcello. I need it. Now," I moan, the ache in my pussy is burning like a fire. I need him to fill and stretch me the way only he can, to take me to the heights of my pleasure. I love coming on his tongue, but right now, I need to be filled.
He grins arrogantly. "I'm not going to deny my fiancée's request."
I step back on the bed on wobbly legs and let myself down. He comes at me on all fours, with a dangerous gleam in his eyes that floods my pussy even more. Impatiently, he flicks my panties off, shredding them at the seams before tossing them to the side.
With bated breath, I writhe under him, spreading my legs shamelessly and lifting my hips to give him easier access. His hand cups my pussy, apparently finding it wet enough for his satisfaction. "Mine!" he growls.
