Phoenix The jet just reached altitude and we’re cruising across the sky. “This is living large, King König,” Michaela says, bouncing in her seat as if she’s testing the springs. “You approve?” It’s a struggle to contain my amusement. She’s like a kid on the morning of her birthday. “Most definitely,” she says. “The smell of leather is unmistakable. White. Nice touch. I appreciate how buttery soft these are.” She caresses the chair’s armrest. “Way better than vinyl or that horrible fabric they have on some commercial flights—so unhygienic. On top of that, we don’t have to worry about airborne germs like we would if we were flying coach. Even if we were sitting in first-class, we’d still be breathing the same recycled air. Not here. It’s just us and the small crew.” “It’s one of the many perks of owning your own private jet.” “That, and the legroom.” She extends her short legs and wiggles them in the air. My gaze travels from her painted toes trapped in strappy heels, runs up her legs, pausing at the hem of her dress before my eyes scrape back up to her face. “You can recline the seats fully,” I say. “There’s no space restriction.” Her eyes snap up at mine. “There’s a footrest. It’s perfect for catching some shuteye during long trips.” I point to the armrest. She takes me up on my offer. “Do we get blankets?” “And pillows and sle ep masks.” “I love your life.” “You mean you love our life.” She blushes. “Yes, for as long as it lasts, I freaking love our life.” I can’t help my smile. The flight attendant approaches us with a tray. “Congratulations again, Mr. and Mrs. König,” she says. Michaela grabs a flute of champagne. “Thank you.” I grab the other. “Thank you.” “It’s my pleasure,” the flight attendant says. “I’ll leave the appetizers on the table. Let me know when you’re
ready for dinner.” With a smile, she turns on her heel. I lift my glass. “Here’s to Paris!” “I second that,” Michaela says. “And here’s to my father-in-law and his unbendable demands,” I say. Something unreadable veils Michaela’s eyes. “What is it, hellion?” I brace myself. “I won at the lottery.” Her eyes well up. “You’re a good man, Phoenix König.” She blinks the tears back, but one rolls down her cheek. She wipes it away with the back of her hand. I reach out and squeeze her knee for comfort. For a few long breaths, we stare at each other. No words are needed. After this morning’s meeting, Michaela was pretty shaken up by my revelations. She’s grateful she’s not indebted to an evil psychopathic asshole without a conscience. Her father would’ve laid his life on the line to make sure she didn’t end up as Ripley Madigan’s property. My need to protect her is stronger now than it was when I gave Niels my word. I fight for what’s mine. “Five glorious days in Paris,” Michaela says, breaking the silence. I lean in. “I wish we could stay longer, but there’s too much going on in LA, and you know this is kind of last-minute.” “I haven’t been to Paris in so long, you won’t hear me complain.” I want to ask her when she last visited the French capital, but I refrain. This is the kind of information people in love know. The flight attendant, captain and the first officer signed nondisclosure agreements, but why chance it? There’s still so much to discover about you, Mrs. König. “Other than the gala, what else is on the agenda?” She bounces in her seat. “I have to pop into our three Pompadour hotels to take in the lay of the land and meet with upper management. It was on Dad’s agenda, and now I shoulder the responsibility. It’s going to be grueling, but I don’t have much of a choice.” “Oh, okay,” she says. “It sounds like I’m going to spend most of my days alone.” I sense her disappointment. “Paris is a beautiful city. Since you haven’t been in a while, there’s a lot to see and do—so many amazing restaurants to discover. Feel free to give my Black American Express card a good workout.” “I guess.” She shrugs.
“Let me get this straight,” I say. “You were less than eager to take on my last name––which most women would trip all over themselves to agree to––and now I suggest shopping, upscale restaurants and sightseeing in Paris and you’re lukewarm at the perspective. You’re an enigma.” “Don’t get me wrong, all those things sound appealing, but it’s a reminder I don’t have anything to challenge me,” she says. “A life of daily shopping, spas, and lunch dates at LA’s hot new eatery—or at the Pompadour—will become boring real fast.” I chuckle. “What’s so funny?” “After our lunch last week on the yacht, I knew expecting you to wait for me at the penthouse like a good little wife at the end of a demanding day with my slippers, a cigar, and a tumbler of fine scotch was fooling myself—” “This isn’t the fifties, dear husband.” “I’m yanking your chain, kitty cat.” I wink. “All that to say, I made an executive decision about you.” She cocks an eyebrow. “What kind of executive decision?” I reach to the seat across from me and grab my Louis Vuitton briefcase. I rummage through it and pull out a stack of business cards. I hand them to her. Her gaze bounces from the cards she’s holding to my eyes. “Michaela König, Art Director and Principal Art Buyer, König Imperial Holding.” She reads out loud. She blinks at me. “Congratulations on your new appointment,” I say. “I hear your new boss is a pleasure to work for.” She narrows her gaze. “Let me guess. You’re my new boss?” My lips break into a triumphant grin. “In the flesh.” “You’ve got to be kidding me.” “You said you’re not one to sit idle. You worked for one of New York’s top art buyers in your attempt to distance yourself from Thana––” “I was his assistant. You promoted me to director. That’s a huge leap.” “You can handle it,” I say. “It’s the same thing you were doing in New York, but now you r epresent one client and you call all the shots. You’ll even have an executive assistant.” “I hope I’m not taking someone else’s position?” “Actually, you are.” Her face drops. “Please, tell me you didn’t demote or fire someone on my account. I couldn’t live with myself if you did
that.” I love her altruistic nature. I reach out for her cheek and caress it. “I’m not that kind of asshole boss, kitty cat.” “Thank God. I couldn’t stay married to you if you were.” “The woman who held the position before you was expecting another child. She left a little over a month ago. She now has four boys under the age of eleven, and she wanted to be a stay-at-home mom to raise her family. We were supposed to fill the position before her d eparture to ensure a smooth transition, but with Dad’s heart attack and recovery, Roman’s surfing accident, and my extra responsibilities, it slipped to the bottom of the list of priorities. Additionally, after meeting with your dad for the first time a month ago, I told the director who was responsible for finding a r eplacement to put the hiring on ice. From your profile, I knew you’d be the perfect candidate.” She shakes her head. “Anything is possible in your world.” “Pretty much,” I say. “If you acc ept the position, you can get started when we land in Paris—” “What?” “While I’m in meetings, you can visit the galleries for inspiration, that way you can hit the ground running when we get back to LA. We’re in the middle of a renovation of a new Pompadour luxury residency-slash-hotel in Santa Monica that will require a lot of new art—paintings, sculptures, pricey vases, you name it. You can work with the decorator to make it happen.” “Just like that?” “Just like that.” I nod. “Take it or leave it, Mrs. König?” She considers me for a beat. “It looks like you’re my new husband and my new boss.” I grab her hand and interlace our fingers together, boring my eyes into hers. “Fair warning, I’m as much of a demanding boss as I am a husband.” I arch a brow. “You’ll be evaluated nightly on your daily performance to determine if you deserve my tongue, fingers, or cock. On days you impress me, you’ll get all three. If you blow my mind, you’ll get a good spanking before I allow you to ride my cock.” Her cheeks bloom into a bright shade of pink. “Now, let’s talk about my other expectations.” Over the next hour, I brief her on our hotels. She listens intently. I ke ep
it specific to the Pompadour brand so as not to overwhelm her. Her position is nothing she hasn’t done before, and I’m certain she’ll ace it. We end our meeting as dinner arrives. The food is excellent, as always––another perk of having your own jet. The meal ends with more champagne and a remarkable array of scrumptious French desserts. “The champagne is going straight to my head,” Michaela says. “I blame the altitude for feeling this light-headed. I didn’t drink that much, did I?” “This is our second bottle.” She giggles. “That explains it.” She drops her glass on the table. I follow her lead. Her eyes roam the space before meeting mine. “I can’t believe you have a bedroom at the back of this plane.” “These seats are comfortable to sle ep in, but the bed comes in handy.” “I see.” Her eyes roam again. “I guess if you were to join the Mile High Club you wouldn’t get into hot water or legal trouble since you own the plane.” That gets my attention. “What are you suggesting?” She shrugs. “Nothing.” “Do you want an introduction to the club, kitten?” “I was making conversation,” she says in a dismissive tone. I study her. She kicked off her high heels a long time ago. She traded the long maxi dress she was wearing this morning for a short flirty one. I’m quite partial to this one. She rubs her bare legs together and bites against her lower lip. If that isn’t an invitation, I don’t know what is. “Have you ever...” The sexual tension crackles between us. I bring my lips to her ear. “Have I ever fucked a woman on this plane?” “Yes.” “The answer is no. This is a company plane. My father, brothers, and our vice presidents use it. Everything that happens on board is strictly business.” “I see,” she says. She stares out the window, but she ke eps rubbing her legs together. I observe her, twisting my black titanium wedding band around my ring finger, pondering on how far to take things. She adjusts herself in her seat. She’s desperate for salvation. Fuck it. I get up. “Let’s go,” I say. Her head whips in my direction. “To the bedroom?” “No, that’s too obvious. We’re going to the bathroom.” “Like that’s not
obvious at all,” she says. “Maybe, but it will be a lot kinkier.” Her eyes sparkle with interest. I reach out a hand to help her up. She acc epts it. She stands, but falls back into her seat. I catch her just in time and bring her close to my body. She glances up. “Thanks.” “You’re drunk?” “No, just a little tipsy.” I frown. “I’m fine.” She places a hand against my chest. “You were taking me to the bathroom, remember?” “Eager much?” She leans into me. “You promised kinky. Based on yesterday, yes, I’m eager.” “Such naughtiness coming from such a sweet mouth.” She gives me a guilty as charged look. I lead the way to the back of the plane and close the door to the bathroom behind us. “Oh, this should be good,” she says. Lust veils her eyes. “You look innocent enough, wife. You’re anything but.” “Let’s get one thing straight. In the little time I’ve known you, you’ve corrupted me.” “I’m so proud.” I wink. “Since we’ve been married, you’ve done a pretty good job of making me lose my mind. When do I get to return the favor?” “You already have.” “No, I haven’t.” “Yes, you have.” “When?” “I fucked you hard yesterday, and I came hard—every single time.” “That’s not what I meant,” she says in a flirtatious tone. “What did you have in mind, kitten?” She reaches out and cups my cock. I groan. “As much as I like you wet—and fuck do I love when you get that wetness all over me like you did last night—this setting is a bit too intimate for that.” Her breath catches and her cheeks flush at the eroticism in my statement. The pulse at the base of her neck throbs. Tick, tick, tick. Her eyes flash with burning lust. My hungry gaze captures every nuance of her beautiful face before homing in on her lips. I grab her by the neck and take her mouth in a slow, sensual kiss. She parts her lips for me, so my tongue dances with hers. I’m unhinged. We both are. It shouldn’t feel this good. This right. This perfect. I kiss her with abandonment. She responds with fierce passion. I fucking love it. I could fuck her around the clock—for breakfast, lunch, dinner,
dessert, snacks, and coffee breaks—and I’d still want more. I twine the fingers of one hand in her hair, tilting her head back and exposing her neck, licking up her smooth skin, ending with a groan near her lips. “You’re okay with us ke eping it to a fast ride?” “God, yes.” I lift the fabric of her dress. My hand inches up between the silky smoothness of her thighs until my fingers brush over her panties. Fuck, she’s wet. I push the fabric aside, and when I glide a finger through her slick pussy, she moans as she kisses me harder. Jesus Christ. I need to be inside her. I slide my hand from between her legs and bring it to my mouth before wrapping my lips around my finger dripping with her sweet juices. I suck it clean under her heated gaze. “Better than any dessert pr epared by a top master pastry chef.” She moans, biting against her lip. “Turn around,” I say. “Hands on the counter and legs spread open.” She blinks. “Did you hear me, wife?” “I meant it. I want to take care of you, Phoenix. It’s not fair if I don’t reciprocate.” “That’s not how it works, kitten. It brings me pleasure to take care of you.” “Don’t you think it’s the same for me? You’re not even giving me a chance to—” I tease her pussy again as she whimpers, folding over against my chest. I bring two fingers to her mouth. “Show me what you want to do to my cock.” Huge green eyes stare at me from behind fluttering lashes. “You either want my cock or you don’t?” She parts her lips. I stick my fingers inside her mouth and she licks them clean, fixing her hooded gaze on me. My cock strains against the zipper of my jeans and my heavy balls swell and tighten as they fill with cum. “I want you naked.” “But—” “I’m also going to get undressed,” I say. “Let’s avoid walking out of here with cum staining my jeans or your pretty dress.” She giggles. In a flash, we’re both naked. “Now, where were we?” I stroke my massive hard-on. Her eyes follow my hand. “I was so overwhelmed yesterday, I didn’t get a chance to admire you.” She licks her lips as her eyes roam over my body from head-to-toe. “God, you’re gorgeous, Phoenix.” The words come out as a near whisper. “I’ve never been with
anyone who looks like you. Ever,” she says. “I thought being with such a perfect man would make me feel self-conscious... but you make me feel so incredibly sexy and desired. Along with being married, this is all new to me.” “I don’t make you feel sexy, kitten. You are sexy.” I drop a hard kiss against her lips. “Seriously, you’re stone cold gorgeous. I’m just feeding off your sexiness.” She places a hand over mine. My cock pulses. Together, we stroke my cock. It’s fucking hot. “You’re so huge.” “I am, but you’ve proved you’re up to the challenge.” She licks her lips again. “You want it in your mouth?” She nods. “Let me hear you say it, kitten.” “Yes, I do.” “What do you want to do to my cock?” “I want to suck it until you come.” “What if I want to fuck your mouth instead?” Her eyes widen. “Okay.” “You’re going to swallow every drop of me?” “I’ve never done that before.” Her voice trembles. “I get to christen your mouth?” “I can’t believe you said that.” “That’s exactly what’s going to happen,” I say. “And I expect you to swallow every last drop of your husband’s cum like a good wife.” She holds my gaze. “I will.” “Good girl,” I say. “On your knees.” She trails her hands down my body as she lowers herself to the floor. I let go of my cock and it throbs and pulses between us. Her eyes drink me in. I grunt as her fingers wrap as far around my erection as they can. She stares in fascination at the gap still remaining. I’m a big boy. She strokes my cock from base to tip. Fuck, yeah. She runs her thumb over the head. “Your cock is so perfect.” “And you’re so fucking perfect on your knees, hand on my cock, luscious tits out.” I reach out for her nipples. She gasps. “And, these babies are so hard for me.” She grabs my ass with one hand and squeezes my cheek hard in response. Damn. With her eyes peering up at mine, she sticks out her tongue. She gives me a slow, teasing, languorous stroke up and down my fat cock. I bite against my lower lip so hard, I swear I’ll draw blood. Unrushed, she lavishes a few minutes on just the crown, driving me out of my mind with the eagerness to feel her plump lips sliding over my cock. Her
mouth is fucking incredible—soft, silky, hot, and exactly what I need. She runs her petal-smooth lips along my cock. The sublime sensation shoots straight to my brain and I squeeze my ass cheeks, tilting my hips forward to feed her more of my cock. A throaty laugh es capes her. A low groan es capes me. I almost forgot how smooth and soft a woman’s tongue was and how mind-blowing it feels when she traces the lines along the sensitive underside of my dick. And then there’s the teasing way she traces delicate circles around my bulbous crown. Fuck, I’ve missed this sight. It’s been too long since I’ve had a woman’s lips wrapped around my cock. And I couldn’t have asked for a more beautiful pair of pouty lips than my wife’s. With her eyes pinned to mine, Michaela opens wide and swallows my swollen crown. “Good girl.” Her eager tongue explores my slit. Goddammit, I love how she does that. She r epositions herself and does it again. I clench my ass tight at the sensation of the pointed tip of her nipple scratching my knee. Unable to resist, I reach down and pinch her nipple before twisting it hard. She gasps. And then, she responds in kind. Both hands land on my ass before squeezing my cheeks tight. Bobbing her head up and down, she swallows several more inches of my cock in one go. She lets out a vibrating hum that tingles my balls in the most delicious way. Hell, yeah. Threading my hands through her hair, I hold her down over my cock. “Take me de eper.” She obeys. Her head bobs up and down. Up and down. Fuck. The pace is dizzying. My jaw drops open in disbelief––or maybe pure enjoyment––as she works her pretty little mouth up and down my big cock, one hand gripping the base, her eyes closed like my dick is her fucking salvation. My hips and legs are practically trembling with the suppressed need to take control and fuck her mouth. Patience. For several long seconds, there’s nothing else but my cock between her wet lips. I’m riveted by the sinful sight of her head bobbing
in front of my hips, turned on by her moans, at the way she worships my cock. My eyes travel over her heavenly body, her pale skin—she’s still sporting a New York City tan—the curve of her small waist, and the perfect ass I can’t wait to claim. She shifts. It doesn’t take me long to pick up on what she’s doing. I frown my disapproval. I fist her short hair tight. “Don’t you dare.” Her eyes hold mine. “Did you think I wasn’t going to notice you squeezing your thighs like that, kitten? I make you come.” With a frown, she whimpers her displeasure. I pull her hair tighter, forcing her to open her mouth around my cock. “What’s that?” She shakes her head, her eyes imploring. “That’s what I thought.” I tap her cheek a few times. “Finish me off.” She resumes her mission, sucking me off like a starved woman in front of a sumptuous buffet. “Goddammit.” She moans, her hand pumping up and down the inches of cock her mouth can’t handle. “Such sweet submission,” I say. Her soft lips drag up and down my cock, her tongue swirling in circles over the head. The slurping noise ratchets the hedonistic experience. She cups my balls, popping me out of her mouth, and licking my head like a fucking lollipop. Every nerve ending in my body shoots off like a rocket. Jesus Christ, she’s good at this. My balls swell with cum, and the hold on my control is fraying faster than the fuse on a stick of dynamite. I want to come so fucking bad. I tighten my grip around her hair, forcing her to swallow me whole and thrust my hips forward. She lifts her eyes to meet mine. The glee of malice shining bright in them as she kneads my balls is unmistakable. My dirty wife. I go crazy. I fuck her mouth, pumping in and out between her plump lips, losing myself. I hit the back of her throat. She gags, her eyes watering, but she doesn’t tap out. “You okay?” My breath is labored. She nods. I’m so far gone, I don’t think I could stop fucking her sweet mouth, but I’m a gentleman. “You sure?” She nods again. Fuck, yeah. I pick up my cadence, hitting the back of her throat every single time. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. The pressure inside me builds up like a storm, pushing me
towards the edge of the cliff, and I ke ep pulling back, pulling back, pulling back, because I don’t want this to end. I fuck her mouth without mercy. She takes it without complaining. She takes me in de ep. Eye-popping de ep. My heart batters thunderously against my rib cage with every forceful thrust. I can hardly breathe. I’m having a fucking heart attack. I’m going to die thirty-five thousand feet high in the sky. My hands are shaking when I pull my cock from her silky, smooth lips. “Open wide.” The urgency to come is overpowering. She does. She even sticks out her tongue without being asked. With trembling legs, I pump between her lips one last time. My balls draw up and my cock twitches on her tongue before I explode. Oh, shit. Oh, fuck. Oh, kitten. Ohmyfucking God. My vision clouds and I go temporarily blind. I throw my head back, unable to contain my climactic cries as I shoot my hot cum down her throat like a power hose. I lower my head to admire my handiwork through hooded eyes. Like a good girl, Michaela swallows every last spurt. Damn that woman’s mouth. If we weren’t already married, I’d have to ask for her hand in marriage. My heart is pumping louder than a drum, my chest heaving hard as I attempt to regulate my breathing. Fuck that was intense. Reaching out, I caress her cheek. She’s on her knees, submitting to my every demand, yet she holds all the power. “You’re still with me, wife?” She doesn’t answer. Instead, she cups my balls in her hands and kisses each one with extreme tenderness. When she’s done, she sits on her knees, her hands placed on her thighs, her eyes staring up at me. Her lips are swollen from my assault. “Was that okay, dear husband?” Her words are a brazen mixture of innocence and insolence. She’s fucking perfect.