“About five minutes.”
“Thank you so much. And by the way, thanks for making this such a smooth ride,” she said, then tossed a naughty look at Clay, who knew exactly why she’d been barely aware of her surroundings when he’d buried his face between her legs a few minutes ago, then sent her soaring and screaming. She returned to her seat, and whispered to Clay, “That’s odd, don’t you think? I’ve never heard of a secret back route to Newark. You’d think everyone would know about it. Or that it’s the sort of intel that would get shared among friends. Do you think we’ll catch that United flight? The next one was booked, and I have that meeting with Farrell Spirits at two, Vegas time.”
He reached for her hand, threading his fingers through hers, squeezing tight. “There’s not a chance in hell we aren’t making it to Vegas on time. I promise you that. You will make your meeting, and we might even be early. When I checked the flights this morning, the weather was smooth sailing all through the friendly skies.”
She arched an eyebrow, not quite sure where his cocky confidence about air travel was coming from, but then not caring when she realized there was a small window of opportunity to perform her favorite job. Stabbing the partition button once more, she sealed them off from the driver, and wedged herself next to her sexy man, dropping her hand on his crotch, delighted to discover he was still completely aroused.
“You are still hard from what you did to me,” she said in a purr.
“Gorgeous, I’m hard nearly all the time being around you.”
“Then I need to do something about it, because we have five minutes and this driver gives one hell of a smooth ride.”
“Then let’s get those lips of yours wrapped around me and see what kind of ride you can give me,” he said, the gravel of his voice sending a flurry of tingles down her spine.
“You know I love a challenge, Clay. And I’m going to give it to you good right now.”
“You always do. But I’m not easy. I don’t know if you can pull this off in five minutes,” he said, deliberately taunting her.
She wagged a finger at him, then unzipped his dark blue jeans in one quick move, tugging his briefs down too. “I know exactly how to lick, suck and touch your c**k for a two-minute, a five-minute and a ten-minute blow job,” she said, then dropped her mouth onto his erection, taking him all the way in in one smooth, quick move.
He groaned instantly. “Maybe,” he said, as if he didn’t believe her. “But which one is this going to be?”
She licked him back up to his head, then rubbed him against her lips, because she knew that drove him wild. Seeing his c**k being caressed and loved by her mouth was his undoing. His eyes darkened, and he shut them briefly, his head falling back against the leather seat as he speared her hair with his strong fingers. “Get those lips back where they belong. All the way around me.”
“It’s going to be the two-minute treatment then,” she said, blowing a stream of air against him, and he opened his eyes to hitch in a breath. “Say you want it fast. Admit I can make you come in two minutes,” she said, rubbing his throbbing erection across her lips once more to show him she knew the path to his pleasure.
“Do it,” he growled.
That was all she needed to reacquaint his c**k with the back of her throat, wrapping her lips tight around the base, and sucking hard. She cupped his balls, rolling them against her fingers, and that drew out a long, deep groan. She smiled to herself at his reactions, loving that she could do this to him. She continued on her quest, sucking hard, licking teasingly, and delighting in every second of it as his groans grew louder and his fingers gripped her tighter. She finished him off quickly, savoring the taste of him in her mouth and the sound of his grunts in her ears.
When she returned to her seat as he zipped his jeans, she nearly shot out of the moonroof as the signs for Teterboro Airport loomed closer.
“This is definitely not Newark,” she said, her voice practically a shout. “Where are you taking me?”
“Welcome to the executive airport, gorgeous. We’ll be flying in a private jet to Vegas.”
CHAPTER THREE
Friday, 8:58 a.m., New York
“Ladies first,” Clay said, gesturing to the steps that unfolded from the gleaming silver Cessna that looked like a bullet. She squeezed his arm, then walked up the steps. No, that was wrong, he corrected himself. She strutted, wiggling her sexy ass for him, happily heading into the jet.
Keeping her busy on the ride over had been the best distraction—in and of itself—and because it preserved the sheer surprise that he’d wanted to elicit from his woman. The jet was one part of the weekend he’d mapped out for Julia in Vegas. Every detail was planned to a T; every gift arranged in advance. He wanted to shower her with luxuries, capping them all off tomorrow with the one he was most eager to give her—a three-carat emerald-cut diamond ring as he asked her to be Mrs. Clay Nichols forever and ever. The ring was safely in Sin City already; he’d had it shipped from Tiffany’s, and sourced from a diamond mine in Canada, one of many that operated by socially responsible guidelines in the diamond business. His brother, Brent, had the ring under lock and key at his place in Vegas. Clay had contemplated having the ring shipped to the home he and Julia shared in the West Village, but when she’d playfully confessed one evening last month while lounging on their balcony, drinking scotch and looking at the stars, that she’d been the kid who peeked at her Christmas presents early, he knew it was safest to keep the ring far away from her prying eyes.
“McKenna almost ratted me out one year. She found me re-taping a Christmas package early one morning when I was ten, I think. My face turned bright red, but then I told her our cat was playing with an ornament, and had knocked a few presents around, so the tape must have come off.”
He’d laughed at her cover-up. “And she believed that far-fetched, multi-layered fib?”
Julia shook her head, a self-deprecating grin curving her lips. “Nope. So I tried another tactic. I gave her my most prized possession in exchange for her silence—my scrapbook of all these fabulous Jordan Catalano snapshots from My So-Called Life,” she’d said, and he’d smiled at the mention of the TV show she and her sister had been huge fans of when they were growing up. That was something else he and Julia had in common; not that show, but an affection for movies and TV as entertainment and as touch-points for special moments in life.