I slam my head against the window to gain some distance between us. The car, although quite spacious never feels so compressed. "What?"
He tilts inward, "Sugar daddy - noun - a wealthy older man who lavishes gifts on a young woman in return for her company-" his hand trails up my thigh causing me to gasp loudly as the window that separates us from the driver scroll up, "or sexual favors."
My face is burning red as I gaze into Anthony's seemingly electrifying blues. He exhales calmly, resulting in me inhaling his air. I swallow, unable to blink as his face steadily reaches mine.
Anthony kissed me.
It's very light - like he's teasing me.
"Ah, what do I do?" his voice drops a few cords. "I broke a part of our contract," his lips were still lingering above mine.
I swallow.
I didn't know why, but I tilt my head forward until our mouths once again latched onto one another. With a single click, Anthony takes off the seatbelt and throws me over his lap. His hand rests on my waist before he sticks his tongue between my wet lips. I wrap my arms around his neck to bring him closer while my fingers run through his hair. The waist bounces above him; I know I look like a desperate dog in heat.
I don't understand myself.
I'm afraid of Anthony.
But, I want to be near him.
I want to hide.
But I want to kiss him.
When we pull to a stop, I shamelessly follow Anthony through the parking lot where his private jet rests. My head still hangs low while I mentally scorn myself for my need to change panties. Once we sat inside the plane, it flew off of Italy's ground.
Anthony made himself comfortable across from me and patted his thighs. "Come to your sugar daddy."
Immediately, I grab the pillow and throw it at him. I cover my mouth when I realize what I had impulsively done - I threw a pillow at a gang leader! "Don't call yourself that!" those words splutter out of my big fat mouth, and I cover it again.
He sat there, gazing at me as I dug myself deep into the couch wanting to disappear. Anthony stands up, straightening out his shirt before walking towards me. He grabs my wrist and pulls me up which I return with a yelping sound. Anthony sat at my spot and tugged me on his lap.
"You sure have quite a mouth, mio cuore," he ran his fingers across his chin, with a single hand gripping tightly on my waist.
"You're right." I nod, "I need to wash this mouth," I try to escape toward the restroom, only to be pushed onto my back.
"Let me help." He presses his lips against mine before I can rebuttal.
Anthony inevitably washes my mouth.
I'm not quite sure when I fell asleep, or perhaps I fainted in the middle of our makeout session, but when I woke up, my head lay on Anthony's lap while his eyes were intensely concentrated on the laptop screen.
I try to get up, but he gently presses my head down. "Nap a bit more. We are almost there."
I bit my lower lip, and grabbed onto his shirt. I was pressing my forehead against his lower abdomen, the unnerving fluttering inside my tummy set on fire.
Don't fall.
Don't fall.
Don't fall.
I repeat those two words, praying it will come true.
However, how could I fall when I've already fallen?
