The Naughty Week (Naughtier and Naughtier #3)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

I have no idea how I managed to pack so much for a week in Cannes, considering that the bulk of my luggage is nothing more than fancy underwear and flipflops. I haven’t even packed any toys, since Heath assured us he’s already stocked up to the max. No metal butt plugs to be worried about showing up on the airport scanners at least.

Not that I’d be all that embarrassed if they did.

My days of reservations and hangups are long behind me. Sex is an open book for me now. It’s my favourite hobby, not just my career, and I’m happy to admit it to virtually anyone – even airport security if it came to it. Having especially filthy fun while I’m earning heaps of cash as an entertainer is nothing but a massive cherry on top.

I’m exceptionally lucky that I’ll be having two very luscious cherries on top of me this week, and one of them is awaiting us at his swanky villa right now.

The other cherry is right here, beside me.

Josh, my stunner of a boyfriend, hoists our hand luggage into the compartments over our heads. His t-shirt has ridden up just enough to see the V of his hips and the dark promise of hair down his stomach. He gets more ripped by the week, I swear it. His six pack will have a six pack at this rate.

“Excited?” he asks, once he’s buckled up in the seat beside me.

“You could say that, yeah. Just a teensy bit. Who wouldn’t love a trip to Cannes? Sun, sea, sex… and a host to die for. It’s going to be amazing.”

Josh nudges my foot with his. “Keep it down,” he says and I have to laugh. Our client confidentiality comes at all costs given we’re high-class Agency performers, but seriously, I’m hardly going to scream that we’re off for a week of hardcore paid sex with one of the hottest TV stars on the planet, am I?

As much as I’d like to.

I look around the cabin, at the people going about their business, flying away on holiday, just like we are. None of them have any idea we’re being paid a token grand each for the honour of a week-long filth fest with the famous Heath Mason from Nighttime Whispers.

I’d love to scream it over the tannoy. I’d jump up and down as I shared the news that I’ll be getting Heath’s dick for seven days straight and enjoying the French Riviera as a bonus.

“Oh, and did you know, folks? He’s even got a Jacob’s ladder!”

I grin to myself. A whole load of people on this flight will be fans of the show, just like me. They’d probably give us a round of applause for getting the chance at seven full days with Heath. I remember when he was just a TV idol to me, before Josh took me on a joint proposal that practically knocked me off my feet. How he ever kept it a secret that the man we watched onscreen together was a client of his is commendable. Such a professional.

And we’ll both be professionals this week. That’s what comes first.

This isn’t just a holiday. It’s a work trip. We are going to Cannes to please Heath, first and foremost. His wish is our command, literally.

I have to remember that. The lines can’t afford to get blurry – not in this industry, and Heath Mason is particularly guarded. His walls of anonymity are sky high in comparison to my tumbling lows.

Heath has no pseudonym, like I do. He’s the famous Heath Mason, instantly recognisable from a mile away, but I’m Holly the whore when I’m working, and sweet Ella Edwards when I’m not.

My ex, Connor never revealed the real identity of the hooker love of his life who broke his soul. How considerate of him.

Yeah, right.

Connor is the most selfish prick I know. He only kept my identity a secret because he knew I’d call his lies out as utter bullshit. Cheating asshole.

I love flying. I’m transfixed when the plane rumbles down the runway and begins our ascent into the sky. I’ve got the window seat and watch as the UK disappears underneath us. Here we go. Up, up and away.

I’m so caught up with the view that it takes me a minute to register just how intently Josh is staring at me.

“What?” I ask him, and he leans over to give me a kiss on the temple.

“Nothing. Just admiring my gothic goddess.”

I’m hardly at my gothic height today in a black cami dress and simple black sandals, but I have still got my regular catflicks and scarlet red lipstick on.

“I’m not the only goth you’ll be admiring today, my sweet prince,” I reply, and Josh gives my foot another nudge with his. The tension in his brows makes me giggle.

“Fine!” I say, and pretend to zip my mouth up, with a roll of my eyes.

Heath Mason, our glamourous client, rivals me in the goth stakes, which is no surprise since he plays a vampire for a living. His long hair is as black as mine, and his eyes are as pale a blue as mine are. He was born for Nighttime Whispers. They couldn’t have possibly cast anyone better for the show.

It’s only going to be a short flight before we land in Cannes and get to see him in person. We usually see him once a fortnight, on joint proposals, but it’s been four weeks this time, due to his filming schedule, and boy, do I know it. I’ve felt those extra two weeks more than I imagined, and so has Josh. He even suggested binge watching season one of Nighttime Whispers a few nights ago, which is unheard of. I’m normally the one who flicks straight to the show when it’s on.

I may be a fan of NW, but Josh is more of a fan of the man himself. If you could call it that. He’s been a client of Heath’s for years, and from the moment I saw them greet each other I knew there was a bond that runs far deeper than a fortnightly paycheck ever will.

That’s one of the things that makes the experiences between the three of us so powerful. No matter how many times we see Heath, the intensity blows my mind. I doubt that will ever change, either. You could never extinguish a flame that bright. Distance only makes it burn brighter.

I feel Josh’s foot tapping to a rhythm beside me.

“You alright?” I ask him. “Getting flight nerves?”

“It’s not nerves I’m feeling, it’s… excitement.”

“Yeah, I’m buzzing, too. Can’t wait to hit Cannes, and watch the clouds on the way, just woah. Perfect.”

Josh’s gorgeous green eyes dig into mine, and he squeezes my knee.

“I couldn’t give a shit about clouds. I’m talking excitement , excitement. Right now.”

I look at him blankly until he grins and jerks his head towards the toilet at the end of the aisle.

“Are you for real?” I ask. “We’ll be touching down in less than an hour, I’m sure you can wait a bit before you explode in your pants.”

He rolls his eyes, and I realise how loud my voice is. Damn. I’m losing my filter more and more each day. I blame Tiffany, Josh’s best friend, and the most hardcore entertainer at The Agency. She has a voice like a megaphone and a cackle that could shake the plane.

Josh leans in. “Yes, I’m sure I could wait a bit before I explode in my pants, but I don’t want to. I want to take advantage of the opportunity.”

“The opportunity? For what?” I whisper. “It’s not as though we haven’t plane fucked before.” I flutter my eyelashes. “Are my sandals driving you crazy or something?”

“No,” he says. “ You are. And this is the last opportunity for me to get you all to myself before arrival. I’m not going to miss it.”

“Jeez,” I say, “is that a bit of possessiveness I hear? It gives me flutters to know how much a guy like you wants a girl like me.”

“Oh, I want you so bad right now,” he says, and the lust in his eyes sends my temperature soaring.

“And let me make it irresistible for you,” he says, “I noticed, when we were boarding, that this plane’s toilets have a window.”

“Yeah? Really?”

“Yes, really. It’ll be a tight fit, in more ways than one, but you can cloud gaze till your heart’s content while I fill you up from behind.”

“How sweet of you.”

My butterflies for Josh never die down, no matter how much time we spend together. I take a look at the bulge in his jeans as he rises from his seat, and have to clench my thighs, because suddenly I want him so bad.

It’s his voice, his eyes, his touch, his huge, pierced dick and the way he’s such a master at using it. It’s everything about the man.

“Three minutes,” he leans down to whisper. “I’ll be waiting.”

I never get tired of being naughty. I watch him as he walks away down the aisle, already pulsing with need for him.

My heart is racing once the three minutes are up and I head after him. I have a smile on my face, trying to stay calm and nonchalant as I step closer and closer towards my waiting boyfriend. The toilet to the right has engaged on it. I tap lightly on the door and it swings open. Josh pulls me inside and bolts it up again like it’s a Venus fly trap, and he’s straight on me, his hot lips on mine as he clamps my hand around his swollen cock, working it up and down. The barbells feel so good under his skin. All six of them. They make me clench up at the thought of them pushing inside me.

And for one whole week, I’m going to have two steel ladders pushing wherever the hell they feel like.

I kiss Josh back, enjoying the way his pierced tongue dances with mine, but my pussy is already desperate for the monster in my grip.

“Enough,” Josh says and turns to me to face the window.

He wasn’t wrong about it being a tight fit. I’m practically squashed up and star-fished, bracing my arms against the walls, but fuck, the view out of the little oval window is amazing, a blanket of clouds down below and a bright blue sky.

Almost as amazing as having my panties wrenched to one side and the head of his monster cock opening me up.

“Ready, baby?”

“Always,” I tell him.

“No screaming,” he says and pushes in past the first bar, the nip and pull on my pussy enough to make me groan.

“Quiet!” he says and pushes all the way, ping after ping as the ladder impales me.

And holy fucking shit it feels so good, full to the brim with my boyfriend’s incredible cock, my breath fogging the window.

“You good?” he asks.

“More than good,” I tell him. “Get me fucked… please.”

“I thought I was the one who was desperate for a plane fuck,” he says. “You’re always a horny little bitch, Ells. You’d take every cock on offer in this plane and still be wet for more.”

Josh’s filthy mouth makes me feel so slutty.

“Yeah, I would. But you’re the only one who gets my pussy for free.”

“And you’re the one who gets this for free, so enjoy it, you kinky little mantrap.”

He pulls his cock out by three bars, his standard starting move, and I love it when he slides back in. I’m so wet it fucking squelches.

I’m grinning like a doped-up bitch when he gets into a rhythm. I’d give anything for a good hard slamming right now, but no. I grit my teeth and take it, savouring the heat as my pussy grips him.

He picks up the pace and his hands find my tits, squeezing hard as he pounds me.

Fuck yes. And fuck the clouds. I drop my head, and one hand, and somehow manage to find my clit.

I strum it like a mad bitch and my boyfriend pauses, his cock halfway out.

I know what’s coming – both of us.

He drives back in and I nip my clit and he fucks me fast. And I’m done. Shuddering and biting off a long moan as my pussy pulsates around his onslaught.

“Fuck,” he says and I take the slam without a yell, gritting my teeth as he pumps his cum into me.

When he’s done, he helps me to stand. I shuffle around and drop myself onto the toilet for a pee, his cum dribbling out of me.

“That was amazing,” I tell him.

His cock is still dripping juice and cum, so I give it a suck to clean him up.

“Thanks, baby,” he says, before he shoves it back into his pants, and I’m done too. I give myself a good wipe before I wriggle back into my panties and straighten down my dress, and we’re back to it. Just two regular travellers ready for the beauty of Cannes.

Or more specifically, the beauty of the man waiting for us.

Josh’s crotch is already bulging again by the time we get back to our seats, coast clear, and my pussy is already throbbing for more. Damnit. Will my sex drive ever stop rising?

We give each other a dirty smile and his hand squeezes mine in silent acknowledgement.

This holiday is going to be one hell of a ride.

Touchdown can’t come soon enough, and neither can I.