Chapter 10 #2
“Mr Reilly, lovely to see you again,” he says, approaching Mac with a smile and shaking his hand. “Please come through.” He loads our cases onto the trolley, and we fall into step next to him.
We cross a large waiting room where suited men and women are tapping away on their laptops or talking on their phones.
A huge TV on the wall is showing the financial news, and in a corner, a buffet table is set up with lots of breakfast choices.
The air smells of coffee and is full of the sound of low conversation.
The man with our cases opens a door, and a wave of diesel-scented cool air drifts into the room. “Follow me, please,” he murmurs, leading us outside the building.
We trail after him as he crosses the concrete to a small plane that’s waiting. It’s a sleek gunmetal grey.
I stop dead. “Is that ours? I thought we’d be on a big plane.”
Mac smiles at me. “No, this is ours.”
I narrow my eyes. “And when you say ours, what does that mean?” He doesn’t answer, and I look around. “Don’t we have to go through passport control?”
“No need.” He puts a hand to my back and steers me towards a set of steps leading to the open door in the plane.
We climb the steps and step into the plane, where we find a lady standing in a small, curtained waiting area. She’s dressed in a smart navy uniform. “Mr Reilly, it’s lovely to see you again.”
“And you,” Mac says. He puts a hand on my shoulder. “Let me introduce you to Wes Archer. Wes, this is Maeva.”
“Nice to meet you,” Maeva says. Her eyes are curious, but she’s every bit a professional when she asks, “Is this your first time flying with us?”
“First time flying anywhere,” I admit.
She smiles. “Really? Well, you’ve picked a wonderful day. The pilot says it’s clear skies and good winds all the way. I have your passports, so I need to just do the usual admin. Please be seated.”
Mac steers me to a door, and I find myself in a small cabin panelled in a shiny wood that looks like my mum’s old tortoiseshell glasses. Oversized white leather chairs are set by the windows, and the light is low.
“Jesus,” I say, turning in a slow circle. “So, this is how the other half lives.”
He leans against a chair, his eyes intent as he watches me. “Do you like it?”
“Is this yours?”
He chuckles. “No, that would be a silly extravagance. I belong to a business club that offers services like this. I find it very useful when on business trips. I can spread out and get a lot of work done without crying babies and noise.”
The door opens, and Maeva reappears. She hands Mac our passports. “Please be seated, gentlemen. We’ll be taking off soon.”
She disappears through the door, closing it behind her, and I settle into the seat opposite Mac. It’s very comfortable and I relax into the leather, looking out the window at the hangar. Everything seems extra bright under the clear blue skies.
Mac sets his leather messenger bag on the table between us.
It looks expensive, yet well-worn. I’ve noticed that everything he owns is of very good quality and chosen for use rather than swagger.
He pulls out an armful of folders and his laptop and then looks up as if sensing my eyes on him.
“Do you have your iPad?” After I nod he says, “You can read or watch a film while I work.”
Hmm. That seems pretty clear-cut. Entertain yourself while Daddy’s working. He bends his dark head over the laptop and begins tapping on his keyboard, his clever eyes busy and already far away.
A ping sounds, and I see a sign requesting we fasten our seat belts. I hasten to do as instructed. “Mac,” I say urgently. “Seat belt.”
He raises his jacket, and I see he’s already strapped in. He continues his work, and I feel dismissed, which is probably good because it means my feelings align with reality.
I watch him, enjoying the few seconds when I can observe him without him saying anything sarcastic.
Now that my exams are over the real world is intruding again, and I can’t put off any longer the big decisions that I need to make.
I’m very aware that I probably don’t need to continue my arrangement with Mac anymore.
I have more money than I could ever dream of, and it’s likely to stay that way as long as Tyler doesn’t spaff it up the wall again.
So, why am I still here? Is it that I’m being cautious and gathering more cash for my nest egg? Or is it that I simply can’t bear the idea of finishing the arrangement and never seeing Mac again.
I look at him as he frowns down at his laptop. It’s patently obvious that he’s not bothered by any deep thoughts about me.
I’m shaken out of my dismal thoughts, when the plane slowly eases out onto the runway.
Within minutes, we’re thundering down it and lifting into the air.
The speed is thrilling, and I press my face against the small window, watching as England falls away beneath me, the houses and gardens getting smaller and smaller until we vanish into the clouds.
I release a breath I didn’t know I was holding and look up to find Mac watching me, his laptop forgotten.
“Alright?” he says. “Are your ears okay?”
“What?”
“Well, that answers that question.” I snort, and he smiles at me. “Do you want a sweet?”
“No,” I say crossly. “Because I’m not five.”
His lip twitches. “For your ears. Sucking on a boiled sweet relieves the pressure.”
“Oh, no, I’m fine.” I look around. “I can’t believe I’m in a plane. And a private one at that.”
“Are you enjoying it?”
I grin at him. “Well, it’s not bad. I suppose one can get used to any slummy situation if one tries very hard.”
He snorts. “Such a brave boy.” His eyes are full of a reluctant amusement.
“That’s me. Brave.”
“And bold,” he offers, and immediately looks like he wishes he hadn’t.
“I can be bold,” I whisper and wet my lips. “Very bold if you want me to be.”
His eyes flare as hot as the sun shining through the windows, and he leans almost unconsciously towards me. He immediately pulls back as the door slides open, and Maeva appears.
“Would you like fresh juice, water, or the alcohol menu?”
“Water, please,” Mac replies. He nods at me. “Have a drink if you want one.”
“At lunchtime ?” I say, scandalised, and his lips quirk. I turn to the air hostess. “I’ll have a juice, please.” She nods and glides away.
My stomach rumbles loudly. Mac’s eyes twinkle but he refrains from saying anything.
Maeva reappears with our drinks. “There’s a selection of sandwiches in the fridge so help yourself. As you requested in your phone call this morning, I’ll leave you alone. We’ll be landing in Paris at one thirty. Please press the call button if you require anything else.”
The click as the door shuts behind her is like a starter gun on my cock.
I suddenly remember how long it’s been since he fucked me.
“All alone.” I look at Mac. “Are we joining the mile-high club?” I say with a nice leer, but I might as well keep my leer to myself as he’s gone back to his work.
Obviously, sex wasn’t on his mind when he asked her to give us privacy.
I sigh and unfasten my seat belt. Even that doesn’t distract him, so I stand up, swaying with the plane’s movement, and wander to the fridge that Maeva indicated.
My stomach rumbles again as I survey the selection of sandwiches.
It’s nice to feel hungry, as my appetite has been a bit off during my revision.
I grab a BLT and look over at Mac. “Shall I bring you one?” He doesn’t answer.
“Mac?” He’s checking his phone, but eventually he looks up. I gesture at the table. “Sandwich?”
“Oh no, thank you. I’m not hungry.”
“But it’s lunchtime.”
He waves a dismissive hand, his attention on whatever he’s reading on his phone. “I rarely eat during the day,” he mutters, then gives a cross-sounding huff and starts typing again.
“Why?”
He doesn’t answer me, and I shrug, before gathering a brie, tomato, and basil baguette for him. That seems an appropriately bougie lunch for him. When I sit down at the table, he directs an amused glance at the two packets. “I know I said it took a lot to fill you, but that’s ridiculous.”
I roll my eyes. “One is for you.” I push it towards him as he gapes at me.
“I said I didn’t want anything,” he says with an air of irritation and draws his laptop towards him. He looks up when I say his name. “ What ?” he asks in exasperation.
I’m sure people cower when he turns that expression on them, but I’ve seen him when he comes, so it doesn’t have quite the same effect.
I tap his plate. “Eat something, please.”
“Oh, now you’re trialling manners. What a joyful occasion.”
“I say please for your cock a lot if memory serves me right.”
He sucks in a startled breath, and his eyes flare with heat.
“Is that what you want, instead of lunch?” I say steadily. “Do you want me to beg for your cock?”
He swallows hard, but his question is cool. “And if I do?”
I stand up and move to his side slowly, and I’m gratified to see his hand clench into a fist as he visibly searches for calm. I put one hand on the headrest of his seat, feeling the silky strands of his hair tickle my palm, and lean in to whisper in his ear, “Then your wish is my command.”
I tug on his seat until it spins around to face me. His eyes blaze like blue flames, and holding his gaze, I lower myself slowly to my knees. He spreads his legs, still watching me, and I nudge between them, putting a hand on each thigh to steady myself.
“Please.” I’m startled by the hunger in my voice that echoes the throbbing of my cock. Without thinking I press my hand against my dick, trying to relieve the ache in it. “ Please ,” I say again, and there’s no artifice—just a desperate need.