Page 33 of Sexting the Single Pakhan

She doesn’t hesitate. She sets the e-reader down, stands, smooths her dress with trembling fingers, and walks toward the private cabin at the back of the jet. That round, perfect ass sways with every step. I’m already hard enough; it hurts.

The flight attendant chooses that exact moment to glide over, smile bright and flirty.

“Mr. Volkov, can I get you anything? Or do anything for you?” Her voice is syrupy, eyes lingering too long on my mouth.

I don’t even glance at her. “No!”

She falters, but I’m already moving, long strides carrying me after Laurel. The moment we touch down in New York, that woman is fired.

I push the bedroom door open and freeze.

Laurel stands at the foot of the bed in matching black lace, bra cupping her perfect tits, panties clinging to her hips like a second skin. The sight causes my cock, which is already half-hard from watching her ass sway down the aisle, to surge to full attention in seconds.

“Take off the bra,” I growl, voice low and rough. “Panties too.”

I start stripping as I speak. She doesn’t move right away. Instead, she gives me a teasing smile and reaches behind her back to unclasp her bra with deliberate laziness. The straps slide down her shoulders inch by inch. She lets the lace fall, but she’s taking her sweet fucking time with the panties, thumbs hooked in the sides, dragging them down her thighs like she has all night.

I growl again, deeper this time. “Now is not the time to tease me. If you don’t hurry up, I’m tearing them off you.”

She bites her lower lip, and the sight makes pre-cum leak from my tip. I shove my trousers and briefs down in one rough motion, kicking them aside. My cock springs free, thick and throbbing.

She’s naked now, flushed, eyes dark and daring. I close the distance in two strides. “Teasing me will get you punished.”

“Oh really?” she whispers, tilting her chin up. “What are you going to do about it?”

I wrap my hand around her throat, not tight, just enough to feel her pulse hammer against my palm. “You’re not ready for that.”

The truth is, I’ve never fucked slow in my life. I like it rough. Women bound, begging, taking everything I give them until they’re shaking and spent. When I learned she was a virgin, that knowledge almost sent me running. I’m not built for gentle. I thought I’d break her, scare her off, ruin whatever fragile thing this is before it even starts.

It’s the reason I’ve been holding back. I’ve tried to go easy even when she’s been pushing every goddamn button. I don’t want to scare her away. I don’t want this to end. Not yet.

She tilts her head against my grip, eyes blazing. “Who says I’m not ready?”

The fire in her gaze tells me everything. She likes it. Likes my hand on her throat.

A growl rumbles in my chest. “You like being choked, little thing?”

I tighten my grip, just enough to make her gasp, not enough to hurt. Her pupils blow wide; a fresh rush of wetness coats my fingers when I slide them between her legs.

“So wet already,” I mutter.

I lift her leg, hook it around my waist. Her back hits the wall with a soft thud. I line myself up and notch the head of my cock at her entrance.

“Brace yourself,” I rasp against her ear.

Then I plunge in with one hard, deep thrust.

Her mouth falls open in a perfect, silent O. Her nails dig into my shoulders. I don’t stop. I fuck her wildly, hard, fast, relentless. She’s whimpering, moaning, legs locked around me, taking everything I give her.

I feel her start to flutter, walls squeezing me like a fist.

“Come,” I order against her throat. “Come on my cock.”

She shatters—crying my name, body convulsing, pulsing around me so hard it drags me over the edge with her. I bury myself inside her, pull out, and come with a guttural groan, spilling on her thighs.

I kiss her jaw, her throat, the spot where my hand still rests lightly around her neck.

She’s trembling.