Almost a week has passed since my passionate night with Carson. Though it was off-putting to wake to an empty bed and a note explaining that he’d left for New York, I know that he’s a busy man. You don’t get to have the life he’s achieved by laying around in bed all day. While I’ve been trying not to entertain any illusions about a deeper relationship between the gorgeous billionaire and myself, I can’t deny that I miss him.

It’s his phone call that wakes me, and I fight to keep the excitement from creeping into my voice as he explains that we’ll be boarding his personal jet to Russia today. I’ve been waiting with bated breath for this day. A part of me is sure that my boss will want to shift back to our strictly professional relationship during the trip. Another part of me hopes that we’ll be able to have a bit of fun once we make it to Saint Petersburg.

Admittedly, I have a serious crush, and I’ve got it bad. Ever since sleeping with Carson, my thoughts have been consumed with him. I can scarcely think of anything besides pressing my lips against his the moment he picks me up from my apartment. While I suppose it’s to be expected that a man of his age and prestige would be rather…experienced, I’m still having a hard time wrapping my head around just how good the sex was.

Truthfully, I haven’t considered sleeping with anyone else since the moment I met Carson. He’s the sort of person you find yourself addicted to, hopelessly enamored until it’s too late to turn back. He has a grip on my heart, on my very soul—of that much, I’m certain.

God, I’m not one to get all mushy about a guy, even if the sex is great. I never planned to go beyond a single night with the handsome billionaire, but it’s funny how things work out, isn’t it? I’ve resisted the desire to text him what feels like a hundred times—or more likely, thousands—over the entire period he was in New York. I don’t want to seem like some clingy girlfriend, especially considering our work relationship.

Even still, I find myself quaking with delight as I receive his text, informing me that he’s waiting downstairs. I brush a hand through my hair, taking stock of everything I’ve packed for the trip. The bare necessities, really, save for a nice pair of lingerie that I hope will find use in the coming nights. I close my eyes, losing myself in the prospect of getting tangled in his arms once more.

Realizing how much time I’m wasting, I grab my suitcase, waddling to the door with it. I’m only just realizing how heavy the damn thing is, and I briefly wish I had the finances to pay someone to do all my heavy lifting, as well. It’s a silly thought, but hell, I’ve been full of those, lately. I stagger downstairs with my case, spotting Carson’s usual car parked at the front of my apartment complex.

Dropping my suitcase for a moment, I inhale a deep breath as I frantically wave at my boss. Then, stricken by how idiotic I must look, I quickly lower my hand to my side in hopes that he hasn’t seen me. Talk about desperate.

I reach down to grab my suitcase, but I stop short when I hear a shout.

“Aimee, wait!” Carson calls out, jumping out of his car and quickly striding towards me. I smile nervously at him, but he seems entirely unbothered by my awkwardness, pulling me in for a quick embrace. “Let me carry that. I want you to relax and enjoy yourself, starting right now,” he announces with a big grin.

I feel my heart skip a beat, nodding shyly while he lifts the case as if it weighs nothing.

“Thank you, Carson. I didn’t think I had packed all that much, but it’s heavier than I expected,” I admit sheepishly.

He smiles, looping his arm around my waist and guiding me towards the car. My skin tingles where he touches me, and it’s all I can do to keep from giggling like a schoolgirl. I’ve got to get it together.

“We’ll be able to purchase most of the necessities in Saint Petersburg, but there’s no harm in bringing some things from home,” he says cheerily, and I notice that he seems to have a bit more pep in his step than I’m used to. Maybe he’s just as excited to be with me, though that seems unlikely.

Shaking myself from my thoughts, I grin as he opens my door for me before circling around to toss my suitcase in the trunk. I settle into the passenger seat, fastening my seatbelt and allowing my head to lean back against the headrest. He slides into the car moments later, starting the ignition.

“What’s it like, having a personal jet?” I ask, fidgeting nervously as we make our way to the small airport we’ll be taking off from.

He seems to consider my question carefully, then shrugs in response.

“It’s nice. It’s been years since I’ve flown in anything else, so I suppose I’m used to it. I hope you enjoy it, though.” He grins, glancing to me from the corner of his eye. I smile, trying to contain my sheer joy at the attention he’s lavishing upon me. I feel like some sort of lovesick puppy.

The rest of the ride passes swiftly, and Carson pulls into a side lot at the airport before slipping out of the car. I step out as well, starting slightly as two burly men approach to grab our bags.

“Mike, Taylor! Good to see you again,” he says warmly. The men look relatively apathetic, considering me with expressions of vague scrutiny. “This is Aimee. She’ll be joining us for the flight. Aimee, these two gentlemen will be our pilots,” he continues, taking me by the arm and leading me in what I assume is the direction of his personal jet.

I spot the plane immediately as we turn the corner, though it would be hard to miss. The SharpeFocus logo stretches across the side, and while it’s not the size of a commercial plane, it looks plenty luxurious.

“So, Aimee was it? You’re a friend of Carson’s, then?” one of the pilots inquires with a sly smile. I hesitate, glancing to Carson before replying.

“I’m his personal assistant. I’ll be helping him with business matters on the trip,” I explain, though I’m not sure if that’s the whole truth. Carson hasn’t exactly mentioned why he invited me along, but that seems a logical explanation.

The vacation explanation couldn’t be the whole truth, could it? What sort of boss takes his assistant to Russia for a vacation? Granted, Carson and I have anything but your typical business relationship.

Expressing little more interest in me, the pilots walk ahead to load up our bags. Carson takes me by the hand, guiding me up the steps and into the plane. My eyes widen as I take in the interior—while I knew it would be lavish, I never could have anticipated just how luxurious a private jet could be. A thick curtain separates the cockpit from the rest of the jet, and as I watch the pilots slip behind it, I’m nearly overcome by the desire to embrace my boss.

Waiting for the opportune moment, I take a seat beside Carson and buckle myself in while the plane prepares for takeoff. His eyes seem to watch every move I make, and I’m on pins and needles as we begin our ascent. As soon as one of the pilots calls out that we’re free to leave our seats, I yank off the strap holding me in place. I turn to face my handsome boss, finding that he has a knowing expression on his face.

“I know it was probably supposed to be a one night thing,” I begin, and he considers me strangely for a moment before pressing a finger to my lips.

“Come here. In my lap,” he orders in a soft purr. I oblige him immediately, and though it’s a rather tight fit, the position is enjoyable.

I can feel the bulge of his manhood against my thigh, and I thank the stars that I opted to wear a skirt today. He shifts a bit awkwardly beneath me—that is, if anything the man did could be considered awkward. I hear the telltale sound of his zipper, and I can’t help but smile.

“Aren’t you worried they’ll hear?” I whisper against his ear, shuddering as he nudges my panties aside.

“I don’t really care what they think. Do you?” he replies with a smirk.

I chuckle, cutting myself off with a soft moan as his fingers press against me. Burying my face in his shoulder, I move my hips rhythmically to meet the feather-light touches of his fingers. I try to smother my cries of pleasure, but he grazes his thumb over the aching nub of my clit and it’s all I can do not to scream.

“Let it out,” he urges softly, continuing to caress me.

“Carson, please,” I groan, groping blindly in his lap.

He rumbles a laugh, and all of a sudden his fingers are replaced with something much larger and warmer. I exhale a sigh of relief as he presses against me, though he doesn’t enter me. I whine, bouncing on his lap encouragingly.

“I don’t have a condom,” he murmurs, simply sliding his length along my slit without penetrating me.

“Just pull out,” I urge him, bracing my hands against his shoulders. He hesitates for the briefest of moments before nodding, adjusting himself to slide into me. A shuddering breath spills past my lips, and he silences me with a kiss. I begin to bounce in his lap again, guided by his hands on my hips. “God, they can probably hear everything,” I whisper, grinning naughtily.

“Does that turn you on, you little minx?” he inquires with a smirk. I shrug my shoulders, playing innocent.

He jerks his hips up, hitting just the right angle to rub my G-spot. I cry out loudly, and he grins, continuing to thrust up into me. I bite his shoulder, trying to silence my wails of pleasure.

“Ah, ah, none of that,” he whispers. “So we can all hear you, Aimee,” he urges.

“Oh God, Carson,” I whine, trying to ignore the surge of arousal that shoots through me at the idea of the pilots listening in on us.

“Louder,” he grunts, leaning in to graze his teeth to the side of my neck. At least, I think he’s just going to graze them. Instead, he bites harshly, sending a mix of pain and a strange pleasure through me.

“Ah!” I squeal, throwing my head back as I continue to rock against him. I feel myself building up rapidly, the sensations nearly overwhelming as Carson sucks at the mark he just made on my neck.

All at once, pleasure washes over me almost agonizingly. I manage a strangled cry as he pulls out and pushes my head down. Realizing his intent, I oblige, and put my lips around his cock just in time to swallow his load.

“I didn’t want to ruin your skirt,” he muses aloud, and the two of us share a quiet laugh. I rest against him for a moment before shifting back into my seat.

“It’s probably a good idea to get some rest. We’ve got a long flight ahead of us,” Carson mumbles, sleepiness obvious in his tone.

I murmur my agreement, but even as he drifts into a peaceful slumber, I’m too wound up and excited to even consider sleeping. Oh, well. All the better to get acquainted with the pilots, I suppose. The fact that they’d likely heard me getting my brains screwed out matters very little in the face of my boredom.

Slipping out of my seat, I glance adoringly at Carson before heading towards the cockpit.