I slide into the window seat, and stow my handbag. The other passengers have mostly boarded, and I have the luxury of a row to myself. Thankful to be left alone with my thoughts, I adjust the cool air vent as high as it will go and, as the attendants do their demonstration, I flip mindlessly through the magazine with my forehead pressed against the window, at the edge, where the condensation gathers between the panes. Neither the cold air, nor the coolness of the window against my skin is enough to slow the heat I feel building in my body just thinking about what lies ahead a thousand miles and a couple of hours in Seattle.
I try to focus on the work I brought on the plane with me. Why did I think I'd get any of that done? I concentrate on reviewing the contract, but my mind wanders to that late night taxi ride a few weeks ago. His hand on my leg. My lips on his. Nails digging in to the back of his neck, just above his hairline, pulling him in as deep as possible into a kiss that burned like fire. I've had my eyes closed, thinking about his touch, the feel of his skin, the taste of him, and I am relieved no one is sitting next to me, because I have been breathing in the way I do when I think of touching him. It's audible, a slight purr. And there's no mistaking what I'm thinking of when I make that sound. I'm pretty sure my face is flushed.
I hope I won't see him at the airport.
I want the suspense to build until it is deliciously unbearable. If we have to endure the 30 minute taxi ride to the hotel together there will be no stopping. I need that restaurant table between our bodies in order to prolong the pleasure, no matter how painful it might be. I intend for it to be equally painful for him. The thought of having complete control over his pleasure makes me squirm in my seat, and I can feel the seam of my jeans pressing against my crotch, which only makes me hotter.
I consider the carefully chosen red panties in my suitcase, and the stockings with a garter, and I imagine his reaction when he sees them on me, how he will not be able to stop himself from wanting me, touching me, kissing me, fucking me. My nipples harden at just the though of his lips on them. His hands on my back, pulling me closer.
Even though he is nowhere near, my skin tingles the way it does when he is close. I am so ready for his touch, I want to slide my hand into my panties and rub my clit until I come, right on the plane, just like I did that day in his car. But I know I won't, because I want to save that for him. I want to come with him deep inside me, my legs wrapped around him, fingers in his hair, teeth on his neck. And I want nothing more than to make him come. As many times as I can. I'm not counting on us being able to pull off this much time together ever again, so I want to make the most of it.
I've daydreamed about kissing every inch of his body. Tasting him, especially his delicious, perfect cock. I have imagined, so many times, giving him head, slowly, teasingly, my tongue tracing the ridge where the shaft of his cock meets the head, sucking until he can't stand it any more. I am breathing quickly, deeply, and I know if he was here, and touching me, I would come. If just the thought of him can take me this close to the edge, what is it going to be like having him so close with no interruptions, no timelines, no other commitments? The prospect of having him all to myself for hours, instead of minutes that are never really enough, is unbelievable. I wonder if it will be too much, and then discard the thought as quickly as it came. I know that I want to use every minute.
Though I'd got on the plane with every good intention to get a bit of work done, I hear the crew announce our descent and I realize I have spent the entire flight imagining our total consumption of each other. I return my tray table to its upright and locked position and prepare to land. I can feel the wetness between my thighs, my pulse is pounding in my pussy so intensely it almost hurts.
I roll my case off the plane and head for the taxi rank, avoiding searching for him in the crowd. His flight should have arrived at almost the same time, and I need to get to the hotel before I see him, or all hell will break loose with the way I have gotten wound up on that flight. I find a taxi, and climb in, my cheeks pink with excitement.
"Where to, Miss?"
