Deceived - Part 2 Paris (4 page)

“Me?  Oh no...
pffft...
hardly,” I replied.  “Business trip.”

“Oh, okay. My name’s Jesse...um....” He trailed off waiting for my name.

“I’m Chloe, nice to meet you Jesse,”

He stuck out a hand sideways to shake and I met the hand along with the smile that was offered. The warmth of personal contact in his hand projected tingling electricity of which I became acutely aware.  

“You are gorgeous, you could be a model. Your eyes are amazing,” he continued looking up from under half hooded eyes.

I felt the heat rise to my face again and little flutters in my stomach.
This guy’s fiery gaze cut right through me like a knife and
boy
, he made that knife feel good.

I was falling for him quickly. After all, I had all the symptoms of a girl with a broken heart and this guy had no trouble reeling me in. He leaned back comfortably in his seat. I was careful not to let my arm touch his on the armrest. I had many more hours to sit in his near proximity and that realization made my breathing uneven.
Thank God for free drinks in First Class.
I was in dire need of one.  

The flight finally got underway and I relaxed into my spacious seat. I was grateful when the stewardess finally came to our row taking drink orders. When I discovered that French champagne was offered, I gave the stewardess a nod to bring it in my direction. Jesse ordered, in like manner and with glasses in hand, we tipped the edges together in a toast “to Paris”.

“This is good,” I said enjoying the mellow zing of the bubbly as it smoothed its way over my tongue and down my throat.

“It should be. It’s Dom Perignon
.” he smiled.

“Nice.” I made a mental note to profusely thank Ryan again for putting me in First Class.

“So, what’s the mysterious business trip you’re on?”

“It’s not mysterious, far from it. I’m going to Paris with my boss, he’s sitting up there,” I pointed with my champagne glass to the front. “I am his assistant and we are opening an art gallery in Paris. You know, I’m going there to help set things up, work on promotions and the usual stuff,” I explained.  

Ah, the velvet smooth relaxation of the fermented grapes was having its anticipated effect on me. Wine, and champagne, which is really a sparkling wine, always came through for me. I could count on it giving me a buzz, time and time again. I couldn’t tell you much about pairing wines with meals, but I could tell you this, it delivered its effects every time and it never let me down unlike people, sad to say. However, life was looking better now and I turned to chat up my newfound friend, Jesse, drinking in the pleasurable visual stimulation I was enjoying from his drop dead gorgeous good looks.

“How about you? What do you do for a living?” I had contemplated what a young hard body like him would do for a living, fantasizing possibilities such as UFC fighter, bodybuilder, male model....

“I race motocross,” he replied taking a sip of his champagne and resting his arm on the center console between us, like I should have knowledge of this sport.

“Motocross? Hmm.
I don’t know much about that sport.” I felt stupid but then I hadn’t really had much guy sport references growing up an only child.

“Motocross is like dirt bike racing,” he explained. “My older brother, Jimmy got me started riding when he gave me his 65 and moved up to 85’s...” He lost me there and I had to interrupt.

“Wait, what? 65, 85. What’s that?”  

“He smiled a beautiful smile and chuckled, “Those are engine sizes.  Anyway,” he continued, “I started riding at a pretty young age
, about seven but then my dad passed away and I had to grow up fast. No time for
kids’
stuff. Instead I had to put all my effort into my riding. I wanted to go
to the Pro Am circuit, find sponsors and be able to help support my mom and brothers.”

“And well, did you?”

“Here I am, on my way to race in Supercross de Paris.”

“Wow, your family must be proud of you.”

“Yep, my brother always said that it’s not only about the race if you want to make it as a pro rider. It's also about your relationship with other riders and your sponsors.”

“That’s so true. Same thing in business, it
is
all about, relationships with sponsors, or cl
ients.” For being so young this guy was wise beyond his years. But oh my, he was a fine specimen of a young man. Probably too young for me but sometimes girls just want to have fun.

The more champagne I drank, the more I leaned on the armrest in Jesse’s direction, that marvelous tattooed bicep practically under my nose, calling my name, begging to be touched. I wondered what his chest looked like, or his abdomen. I bet he had a fantastically cut, and I wanted my eyes on his aesthetically pleasing “V”.

“You must work out a lot,” I quipped as I became fixated on the idea of seeing him shirtless, using those pumped up guns to push my arms over my head while he ravished me, his unruly hair falling down on his forehead as he leaned over me.

“Well, yea. I train on the track and off the track, but let’s talk more about you.
Are you sure that you’re not a model?”

The hours slipped by, day turned into night, though it was hardly apparent while being on the long transatlantic flight. Jesse and I exchanged life stories, backgrounds, talk of work, family and friends as the
stewardess supplied us with beverages, food, pillows, blankets and of course, a constant flow of champagne. Eventually, after enough hours had passed, the cabin lights were dimmed and the majority of the passengers drifted off, in an attempt to sleep their way through the long tedious trek through the clouds above the ocean. All overhead lights were clicked off and I covered myself with one of the dark blue Air France blankets. The dull luminescence of the cabin area and the intense heat building up between us, compelled us to lean into each other over the armrest console in order to speak in hushed tones. The lights, the drinks, “the sharing our dreams” all propelled our body chemistry to heightened proportions.  

I sat with one arm resting on the console.
He ran his fingers up and down my bare arm and leaned in. Intuitively, I reciprocated and met his advance by tipping my head into his. Nuzzling his nose in my hair he inhaled the scent, his warm breath lightly blowing
in my ear and whispered, “You are so fucking hot. I am going to have to kiss those lips of yours.” His hand stilled on my forearm punctuating his intentions.

I tried to say no but my body kept saying yes. I stopped using my head and just let it all go. I rationalized that I needed this to forget the past, plus the damn champagne was keeping its promise yet again.

“I want to hold you, to feel you. I’ve been sitting here staring at your perfection. You turn me on, let me take control,” he murmured. I closed my eyes and our heads were twisting together, fighting the urge to just go at it right there in the seats. My heartbeat accelerated, I panted in short shallow breaths.  

“Oh Jesse,” I moaned fighting to restrain myself with every ounce of determination I had left that wasn't diminished by the alcohol. I soon realized it was a losing battle. The champagne had won again. It always did.

He drew his hand to my chin and gently, yet firmly, turned my face so my lips were easy access. With my arm still pinned on the console in a death grip, his mouth closed over my lips, his tongue raking over mine in sensual delight. He kissed me long and deep, swirling his tongue inside my mouth and sucking my lower lip as he pulled away.  

Ohmygod that was so hot!

My lips were on fire, my nipples budded up under my top and all my juices were flowing.

“Come on. He whispered...come with me....”  

I hardly had time to think when he pulled me up by the intense grip he had on my arm taking me with him. I wasn’t sure I should be doing this but...  

“Where are we going?” I whispered.

“Shhhh,
just follow my lead...come on.” He tugged on my arm one last time and as I got on my feet, he switched his hold, standing behind me with his hand on my waist. His massive body was behind me and I could feel the heat radiating from his chest when he guided me down the aisles. With one slick maneuver, he opened the lavatory door a
nd pushed me inside, crushing on top of me in the small space.  

I felt his body press up against mine, his swollen manhood demanding attention. The moment I felt him I knew restraint was a lost cause. I wanted to rip his shirt off and revel in his virility. Grabbing my hair in his hands, he possessed me with his mouth, ramping up my excitement like one of his motorbikes. I clawed at his shirt, pushing my hands up under it to feel the heat from his skin. I was a river of pure emotion aching for a release.  

Placing his strong hands on my waist, he hoisted me on the edge of the small countertop. Pushing both hands up under my thin pink T-shirt top, he whisked it up over my head. I raised both arms to accommodate his action and as I lowered them to prop myself up with my arms behind my back, he caught both of my wrists in the T-shirt, cinching my wrists behind me. I was forced to arch my back thrusting my heaving breasts into the air, my deep purple lace bra pushing up the creamy white crests of my breast. His tongue blazed a trail down from my mouth to my breasts, working me into a combustible fusion of emotions. He let go of the shirt binding, cupping a breast in each hand, those long locks of hair falling down into his eyes and he adeptly pushed a nipple out of the bra cup to meet his mouth.  I groaned with delight as I felt the flicker of his wet tongue send sensations racing down my body, priming me for more action.  

As he buried his face in my breasts, I grabbed that head of hair, long locks still falling in his dark burning eyes and forced his kisses on my mouth with reckless abandon. God he was so good and I didn’t even care that I was doing something I had never done before, acting out a fantasy desire. I pulled his shirt off over his head and was rewarded with a visual masturbation, his tight hard abs creating contours that were stimulation to the eyes. I traced my fingers over his chest and out his arm over the tattoo. It covered most of his right pec and continued out his arm. It was magnificent, he was magnificent. Young, strong handsome and sexier than...well than any man I had ever seen.

“I’m gonna get you off now baby,” he said in a low deep voice and he opened his jeans releasing his cock. Kneeling down in front of me he slipped both hands down my sides, then caught up the bottom of my skirt and pushed it up, running his hands along my outer thighs, until my skirt was hiked up around my waist. He released my panties to dangle from one of my ankles while pushing the palm of his hand up my inner leg.  

“Oh yea...” he hissed as his fingers found my wetness and the scent of my arousal filled his nostrils. “I want to taste you.”

“Oh God Jesse...”

I could tell that he gripped his raging cock in one hand, by the rhythmic pumping motion that gently rocked his body, and the warm moistness of his mouth met my sensitive swollen bud. Oh it felt so good. Waves of pleasure rocked my body as I felt the muscles contract and blood
rushed to further engorge my clit.  His
tongue licked and swirled magically, while I felt the rhythm of his pumping accelerates
. His rising intensity aroused me to new heights and I could feel my body winding up, rising to the top before the explosion.