Montero - Toto Wolff

5: Mile High

"Have you ever been on a private jet before?" Your boss asks you, his hand on the small of your back as he leads you toward the steps into his personal jet.

The sun reflects on the white surface, causing you to avert your eyes as you continue walking across the tarmac of the landing strip. Where his hand rests on your back is clammy, a result of the heat from the South of France but also coming straight from his palm. He's oddly complacent with the disaster of the race before. And that doesn't dissuade you from getting on a jet with just him for the next three hours.

You look up at him, his eyes shielded from you as a result of his sunglasses, "No, I haven't," you smile up at him.

He stops at the bottom of the stairs and lets you go up in front of him, watching your ass as you climb the stairs. Not that he'd admit it, but you looked good in those jeans, almost as if they were made specifically for you.

Once at the top of the stairs, and in the mouth of the door, you could see the luxury seats, the Champagne - real Champagne - sitting in a Mercedes branded ice bucket. Two Champagne flutes sat next to it on a mirrored tray and the pilot greeted you.

"It's her first time," Toto laughed from behind you, his chest brushing the top of your head as he inhaled. The pilot looked down at you.

He was handsome too, fiery auburn hair and green eyes, freckles dancing across his nose whilst his square jaw clenched and relaxed, "I'll not be too rough for you two," he smiled and winked at the man stood behind you.

You tugged the neckline of the shirt you wore, allowing cool air to spread across your hot chest whilst you walked past the pilot and to a seat. You picked the one on the right side of the cabin, hoping to kick your feet up and catch up on a nice bit of sleep before arriving home.

Toto sat directly opposite you, allowing his legs to spread comfortably as he slouched in the chair, pinching the skin on his nose with his thumb.

There were times where this job took it all out of you, the evenings often drawing out into the early mornings, and it was bordering on insanity at times. You didn't even want to think of what would happen if Toto got angry at you. Like, properly angry.

What happened earlier wasn't pure anger, just flirtatious anger.

"Explain to me what happened with the tyre," He didn't look at you, eyes still squeezed shut as he tenderly squeezed his nose. "Start from this morning,"

You took a deep breath, thinking of the exact series of events that lead up to it, and opened your mouth to start talking.

He moved around in his chair so he wasn't slouched and patted his left thigh, "Sit." He commanded.

You made your way to him, sitting on his lap. He placed his hand on your hip, his other hand holding your thigh as you remained on his leg.

The engine of the jet shifted, the throttle being applied as you both flew down the runway until the pilot took off.

He steadied you in your seat, palm flush against your back as you felt his thigh tense up beneath you.

"Uh," Your voice quivered as you sat there, his hand on your thigh moving up slowly, "Well, I woke up, made my way to the garage and started working on his car. Everything looked normal," you interrupted yourself by moaning at the feeling of his hand squeezing the tension in your neck.

That felt so good, "And you're sure you weren't distracted?" he asked, this time moving his hand further down and snaking it around to the front of your jeans. His other hand worked on unbuttoning it.

"Yes, sir," you try to keep your voice calm as he moves his hand to unzip your jeans, "well, I guess I was distracted,"

He stood you up for a second and pulled your jeans down, "What distracted you?" He inquired, reclining back into the leather clad seat and undoing his belt.

At a loss for words, you kicked your jeans off and sat on his left thigh. He sat up to support you, freeing his cock from his underwear and letting it spring into the pressurised air of the cockpit.

You remained in your underwear whilst straddling his thigh, his hand now flush between your shoulder blades as he pulled you closer. His lips peppered kisses to your collarbone and settled for sucking the skin of your neck as you took his pulsating length into your palm.

Before you started moving, he grabbed your wrist, "Wet it first," he practically begged.

Your hand trailed down your stomach and made its way into your panties, feeling the slickness of your cunt and coating your palm in your own pleasure before withdrawing your hand and wrapping it around his cock.

"Is that better, Daddy?" The words tumbled from your mouth in a jumbled incoherent mess, clumsy yet calculated as you stroked his cock. You ran a thumb over the tip, savouring the way Toto flinched under you, the way his teeth nipped the skin at your neck.

He groaned, "What did you just call me?" his Austrian accent thickening as a direct result of you palming him off.

"Daddy." You replied.

His lips moved up now, one hand wrapped gently around your throat as the other pushed your chest into him. The Austrian pressed a gentle kiss to your temple, a grunt seeping into your hair as you slowed your movements down.

You enjoyed giving him pleasure, but he must've sensed your desperation as he started rocking your hips back and forth on his thigh. The friction drove you mad, soft whimpers and mewls escaping into his ear as you carried on with your own movements.

"You're doing so good, baby," He praised. The laboured grunts and sighs getting louder as you quickened your pace. He helped you grind down onto him, moving your hips so that you could get a better angle on your aching cunt. "Does that feel good? God you're so needy," his voice was strong against your throat as you felt his hips bucking into your hand.

A smile spread across your face, contempt at the way you were making him feel, "Does that feel good?" you held his jaw with one hand and looked into his eyes. Dark brown and devious.

He nodded, words failing him as he erupted with pleasure into your palm, you catching his seed and being unsure of what to do with it.

Toto produced a handkerchief from his pocket, wiping the remnants of his cum from your palm before he rested both of his hands on your hips and helped you get off.

His lips soothed the burning skin of your neck as you rode his thigh cursing into the cabin as you remembered the pilot sat less than ten metres from where you were.

"Such a needy whore," He crooned into your skin.

You dug your nails into his clothes shoulders, moaning as you suddenly erupted with pleasure. Legs shaking, heart racing as you clawed into his skin. You wanted to merge into him, feel the pleasure as one entity.

But you weren't, your legs buckled and he caught you as you continued to shiver with pleasure.

A second moan coaxed it's way out of your throat, though this time you found the team principal hoisting you up and placing you on his cock, where you continued to ride out your orgasm, sweat dripping from your brow and hair glued to your forehead.

You could tell he was drained, his cock half hard as you rode through your orgasm.

Tears brimmed your eyes as you rode it out, the over stimulation coming hard and fast to say you'd never experienced it before, and it was near impossible for you to speak any actual words whilst you carried on riding. Your head fell back into his hand, completely limp as he met your thrusts.

"Please," You stammered before erupting again, dripping cum down his cock and onto his jeans.

You felt something vibrating by your leg, enjoying the sensation as the bizarre pulsation continued. It was rhythmic and constant, and suddenly Toto was shoving you off his cock and pulling his phone from his pocket.

"Don't say a word, it's my wife." He growled, and threw your jeans into your lap.