Heat_A Stone Billionaire Series Novel Page 2

  “Good girl,” I whisper.

  I push two fingers into her and her eyes close, and she bites her lip.

  “Master,” she whines.

  “Yes?” I whisper in her ear.

  The plane’s engines spool up, the vibrations driving her more insane as she fights to keep quiet.

  With my thumb on her clit , two fingers curled inside her pussy, and my face leaning against her ear, my hot breath scorching her neck, I’m determined to make her scream.

  She’s so wet I want to get between her legs and taste her.

  Now, that would be a sight for the other passengers to see!

  Or would it?

  “Ev, I’m going to cum,” Vic whines in my ear.

  I stop dead when she says, Ev.

  “Master,” she corrects herself breathlessly.

  She corrects herself so fast, because she’s close to an orgasm.

  I look at her begging eyes, and when my thumb returns to its spot, on her slick clit, she moans low and long.

  The speed of the plane and the sound muffle any sounds she makes, and Vic lets out another low moan.

  “Oh! My God!!” she gasps.

  I shove my fingers deeper inside her and press against that little spot I know I can find in seconds, as the plane takes off.

  Vic’s muscles contract and her mouth opens, as I watch her body shudder from the intensity of the orgasm.

  “Fuck!” Vic screams.

  I should really move my hand, but between the pressure of take-off, and the wildness of the situation I keep going, to let her ride her orgasm longer.

  She deserves it, this time.

  “I hate take-off!” she screams again, to cover herself up.

  “I bet you didn’t hate that,” I whisper in her ear.

  “Holy shit!” Vic says in a shaky breath as the plane continues to ascend.

  It’s too easy.

  I pull my fingers from her sopping pussy, her blonde wisps wet with her juices, her thong drenched.

  Then I keep up appearances and use my arm to hide her as she greedily sucks every last drop of her cum from my fingers.

  I’m sure a few people saw us, but I just don’t care, mostly because I want it to be obvious she is not up for grabs.

  Vic is mine.

  2

  Victoire

  December 23, 2017

  The plane ascends further into the sky and levels out fast enough that when the seatbelt light goes off, I immediately grab my purse and make a dash for the washroom before anyone else can.

  Thank God I keep an extra thong or two in my purse!

  I prefer not to wear underwear, of any sort really, but if I’m in a meeting, and Evan begins to text me sexual things across the table, I’m always afraid I’ll get my seat wet.

  I can’t explain what he does; he knows every single button to push.

  He has a way of turning me on with my weaknesses for sexual escapades in public, rough sex, and dominating me.

  His intensity, coupled with his incredible body, make him irresistible to me.

  My brain just short-circuits from his animal attraction.

  I can’t stop myself from continuously pleading for more.

  I crave his cock in my mouth, my pussy, my ass and in my grip.

  I love his cum, and just want to drown in it.

  So, I guess I’m going to have to just get used to our arrangement.

  For now.

  I make sure a hair isn’t out of place before I pull a thong out of my purse.

  It’s La Perla, and brand new.

  Do I really want to ruin it as well?

  Maybe I can get away with going commando the rest of the flight?

  I hear a noise at the door to the washroom.

  Suddenly, like the specter than he is, Evan slides into the tiny space behind me, and locks the door.

  “Think I waited long enough?” he whispers.

  “That was not an invitation! You are not going to fuck me in this washroom,” I tell him sincerely.

  His answering look tells me he knows I will not stop him, however.

  “Let’s keep you quieter this time,” he quips.

  A little smirk plays on my lips.

  He grabs my pristine panties, and then taps my lips with his finger.

  As he twirls my La Perla’s, he gives me a stern look.

  “Now, Vicky. Your Master commands it!” he says in that stern voice that makes me melt.

  I open my mouth, wondering what the hell I am doing.

  He shoves the panties deep in my mouth to keep me quiet.

  I almost gag but manage not to completely swallow them.

  Then, I hear his belt unbuckle.

  Evan tests my readiness for him with finger inside my pussy.

  “Jesus Christ, you’re dripping wet!” he snarls.

  His voice is already hoarse with desire.

  The panties in my mouth muffles my whine.

  I’m desperate for that long, thick cock of his.

  He pushes my skirt up around my stomach, and then I feel his first exquisite thrust.

  It’s a good thing the panties are filling my mouth, because I can’t stifle the moans that emerge with every thrust from Evan’s dick.

  His rough thrusting, combined with the sensitivity from my previous orgasm almost make me cum the instant he’s in me.

  My pussy clenches him like a hand, pulsing and slick with cum.

  “Jesus Christ!” he lets out another low growl.

  Then, he draws his cock out of me and clicks his tongue.

  “Christ you’re already creaming on my dick,” he announces in that robust and dominant voice I love.

  The sound of that tone makes my legs shake.

  I moan louder.

  Mercifully, he finally gives me what I want.

  In the confined space of the washroom, seven miles up, traveling at almost the speed of sound, Evan pounds me into submission.

  His cock hits all the right angles as I scream through the La Perla’s in my mouth.

  I can’t help it, Evan does this to me.

  “Fuck!” Evan growls in my ear.

  “So fucking hot!” he mutters against my skin.

  His teeth sink in my neck, and my body twitches as he edges me closer to another delicious orgasm.

  There’s so little room, but I back my ass up against his cock and let him pound me harder.

  Our love juices are slick and wet my ass and his groin, as he pumps harder and harder until my legs shake uncontrollably, and I am grabbing onto the sides of the room to keep from collapsing.

  Evan takes this as a sign to slip a hand in my dress to rub my nipple, all while he feeds his cock into my needy slit.

  The first time I cum it doesn’t take me by surprise, but builds until the bubble of the orgasm pops, and I scream loudly because I can’t help myself.

  Evan’s rigorous fucking turns me into a shaky, disastrous mess and the panties drop out of my mouth.

  “Oh! My God!, Ev, I can’t take any-”

  His hand suddenly covers my mouth tightly, almost cutting off my ability to breath as well.

  “Scream for me!” he grunts into my ear.

  “Yes! Oh! My God!! Yes!” I say, muffled under his hand.

  I quiver and shake as Evan buries himself balls deep inside me, and his hot load fills me up.

  “Holy shit!” he groans.

  Evan then braces himself against the tiny counter, his length still hard inside me.

  My eyes roll back into my head as the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had floods through my body.

  I gurgle, soundlessly, my tongue trying to shoot straight through my clenched teeth, as Evan cums again, the walls of my pussy gripping him so tightly I can feel every drop being squeezed from his dick as his balls empty.

  “Think anyone heard us, Master?” I ask.

  We’re still in the washroom, and I’m recovering from my energetic sexual escapade.

  My head is still buzzing from
the intense orgasms Evan gave me.

  “I would guarantee that, unless they’re dead,” he quips.

  Then, he kisses my neck gently, and I wonder if he’s up for round three.

  When we finally step out of the washroom, a round of applause erupts from the other passengers, causing me to blush until my face burns.

  Evan takes my hand and leads me back to our seats where I’m thoroughly exhausted.

  He raises his arm, punching the air.

  “Well, that’s something I’ve never done before,” Evan admits.

  “Mile-high club?” I ask as I do my lap belt back up.

  “No,” Evan laughs at me.

  “I’ve never got a round of applause for fucking a girl into oblivion,” he says, sounding exhausted.

  Then, he raises his hand for a high-five.

  I oblige him because why the hell not?

  Evan grips my hand tightly, and his lips graze mine as Alice the Stewardess returns to us with glasses of champagne.

  “Thank you Alice,” Evan says in a polite and proper tone.

  “You’re welcome, Mr. Stone,” Alice says as she accepts his thanks.

  I fight the urge to roll my eyes because she gives him the obligatory once-over before she drops a slip of paper in his lap.

  I pretend not to notice and glance out the window, champagne in hand.

  Evan palms the note.

  A few minutes later, he’s sipping the champagne, and reads it.

  He chuckles.

  “Am I next?” Evan reads out loud.

  I snort.

  “What?” he glares at me.

  “Go ahead, I dare you,” I say, asserting that I am just fine with that.

  I’m the one he’s taking on vacation.

  “Why would I do that?” Evan retorts with a raised eyebrow.

  “I’m with you, Victoire” he whispers.

  When he slides his hand into mine, I can’t stop the smile that comes with this simple gesture.

  Moments like this take my breath away.

  Even if they are just part of our games, I relish this intimacy.

  “Are you?” I ask.

  “We’re on vacation together, I think that means this is pretty exclusive, don’t you?” he speaks slowly.

  Evan wants to make sure I understand the implication.

  I shake my head instantly.

  I want nothing more than to just, give in, let myself be with him, enjoy this.

  “No, Ev, I know you appreciate what this is,” I tell him.

  “It’s about needs, base desires, and nothing more. We have an agreement, that’s all,” I scold.

  I don’t do it well, however.

  “You give me the same speech every time, Victoire, and I’m still not convinced. I wasn’t before, and you sure as hell will not change my mind now,” Evan’s sincerity almost makes me waver.

  The last place I should be, is here, with Evan Stone, in first-class, away on some exotic vacation, while my dad rots in a facility.

  We always lived a life of luxury.

  My dad provided for my sister and I, whatever we wanted was ours.

  A glamorous mansion in California, my own BMW, and a designer closet to die for.

  I had everything at seventeen!

  My older sister, Grace, had just started school at Columbia University, in New York.

  I missed her like crazy, but I had my friends, and my trophy quarterback, star of the football team boyfriend.

  All the trappings of the successful American Dream!

  I was the girl with the iron fist, no one could touch me.

  Until we lost everything, right after graduation, and suddenly I no longer had a trust fund on which to live.

  My father’s gambling problem was so out of control, he lost the house, his investments, and just everything.

  Even his job.

  It sickened me, made me angry, and hurt.

  I hung around long enough to make sure that my father was okay.

  He managed to pay off a few loans.

  He seemed to have things back under control.

  Then, I ran to New York City because the only person I could trust was there.

  My older sister, Grace let me sleep on her couch for a few months, while I worked odd jobs.

  As I was qualified for almost nothing, I could barely find a job.

  That's how I ended up taking a job down at the docks in the fish market.

  It barely paid enough for me to give my sister rent for our heavily-partitioned studio apartment.

  Things were okay for a while.

  I hung on by my fingernails, but my father had destroyed my life; and he intended to destroy it a little further.

  As he sank further and further into debt, I finally had to approach the woman he’d borrowed all the money from: Isa.

  It was funny really, Isa took one look at me and said she had to have me, and she laid everything out on the table.

  If I agreed to become a high-class escort for her service, and raked in the money, I could use that against my father’s debts.

  She detailed all the perks of working for her and gave me a tour of the place.

  She introduced me to several of her girls, including a stunning beauty named Bexley.

  We struck up a conversation, while Isa left us alone.

  Bexley told me she made a very good rate, and had a marvelous time with the men Isa put in her care.

  I decided right then and there to take Isa’s offer.

  Really, what other choice was there?

  I truly believed that, once I paid off my father’s debts, then I could get him into rehab.

  Later, when I.S.A. Inc. went under, I thought our worries were over.

  I was lucky to get work with Noah Stone.

  Grace and I got our father into a rehab facility, which I’ve been paying for out of my salary from NLS.

  It left me with very little, but at least it keeps him safe and out of trouble.

  As I step onto the pavement from our limo, I’m stunned speechless.

  This is by far the most luxurious resort I’ve ever been to, and I’ve seen plenty.

  I’ve been to Hawaii four times, all for ‘work,’ and none of the places we stayed compare to this.

  The concierge leads us through a walkway that runs over a small pond, with lily pads, fish, and everything.

  The lanterns above us and on the ground light our way as the sun has begun its final descent for the night.

  Evan urges me forward, my hand in his.

  I’m usually averse to public affection, but it seems natural in such a romantic place.

  Everything is lush and tropical.

  I can see the ocean from just about everywhere as we sail through the resort in a golf cart; it’s at our service whenever we request.

  “Mr. Stone, your three-bedroom Premier Grand Residence is all ready for you,” the concierge announces.

  Our bags are already inside, clothes steamed and hung up in the master closet.

  “Evan? Three bedrooms?” I ask.

  My eyes widen involuntarily even though I realize he’s a shameless show-off.

  “I wanted the best,” Evan chuckles.

  A tour of the ‘room’ includes all three bedrooms, with separate bathrooms, and a beautiful open space with more ocean views.

  It’s everything one would want in an apartment, let alone a hotel room.

  The decor is tasteful, with dark polished wood, and unparalleled luxury.

  “Well, I will admit defeat,” I purr to Evan.

  “Separate bedrooms. I think I like you more, now,” I add.

  “We’ll see who crawls into who’s room first,” Evan jabs back at me.

  “Why don’t we see how dinner goes first, handsome,” I tap his shoulder and excuse myself to shower.

  Under the glorious spray of water from the shower nozzles, I try to settle my thoughts about what Evan said on the plane; about us being exclusive.

  It’s not that
I don’t want that.

  I do.

  But I’ve got too much to worry about already.

  Adding a dominant into the mix that wants me at his constant beck and call complicates things immensely.

  I let the water run far too long in the luxurious walk-in-shower.

  Long enough that Evan joins me, naked, in all his glory.

  His giant dick is already at attention.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks automatically.

  “Nothing,” I lie.

  “Vic, I recognize when you’re not being honest,” he scolds me.

  “You said you wanted to be exclusive, back on the plane. Evan, do you really think we could be exclusive?” I ask boldly.

  “Would I have said that, if I didn't mean it?” he says as he steps under the spray.

  "I did mean it, and it's not like I've fucked anyone else, so what’s the deal?” he asks.

  “What about Leigha Bergmann?” I ask.

  Evan steps under the spray of water, and little droplets drip down every inch of his insanely hot body.

  From his broad, muscular shoulders, to his well-defined abs, and the V-shape leading down his sizeable member, which is twitching and bouncing against his rock-hard stomach muscles.

  It’s unreal, how big he is.

  “It was a moment of weakness,” he tells me as he washes his hair.

  “C’mere,” Evan demands.

  Before I notice, he soaps down my body and every touch send all my nerve endings into overdrive mode.

  “Leigha,” I demand an answer.

  “You and I are not exclusive, according to you,” he reminds me.

  “And, Vicky, if I recall correctly, you were angry with me.”

  He washes my tits, and my nipples feel like they are on fire.

  “We were both drunk and sad,” he continues.

  “You do realize what happens when two people drink a bottle of Jose Cuervo? Sex. That’s what happens. I think you’re aware of that,” Evan replies flatly.

  His hands run across my body until he pulls me against him in the spray.

  “Tell me you’re not jealous of Leigha?” Evan asks.

  “I’m not,” I stammer.

  “But, it bothers you?” he persists.

  He strokes my hair, and runs a finger beneath me, caressing my slit.

  I gasp.