Princess °° Freddie Highmore [dd/lg]

chapter fifty:

-- C H A P T E R
F I F T Y --

The airport was consumed with numerous bodies all going somewhere. Some were greeting family members a welcome back, others were saying goodbye. Some, such as me and Freddie, were departing. I turned to Freddie as we continue to walk.

"Aren't we going on Frontier or Southwest?" I ask, quirking my eyebrows as I find myself walking away from the popular airlines.

Freddie chuckles, then, wrapping his arm around me. "Are you forgetting that I'm multi-millionaire, Freddie Highmore?" He gives me a cocky grin. "Why would I need to book a flight on Southwest when I have the capability of taking my own private jet?"

Private jet? Good God, this dude was loaded!

"I guess I didn't think about that," I reply, blushing. "so, how long is the flight from Austin to wherever it is that we are going?"

"Not long," Freddie replies. "about thirty minutes." Freddie hands the security personnel our suitcases, and we are coaxed to climb aboard the plane. The aircraft is rather large, painted with a white body while the wings were covered in a fluorescent blue hue.

"You know, you still haven't told me where we are headed," I state to Freddie matter-of-factly as we stand at the top of the staircase of the plane. "you said you'd tell me once you got to the airport, Daddy."

Some of Freddie's staff look at each other at the required nickname. They must not be entirely familiar with Freddie's kink. And if they were, they were probably used to other women calling him that. At the thought of Freddie bringing other women on this exact plane made me feel a sense of insecurity; gave me a reason to want to get off of the machinery and go home. I knew I wasn't the only one, but the idea of wanting to be consumed me. Isn't that what we all want in life? To be someone's first something? First kiss, first lover, first person to take on an extravagant trip?

Freddie pulls me close to him, his cologne engulfs my nostrils. I look into his hazel eyes, and melt at the notion that he, too, was looking back at me. Time seemed to stand still for us once again.

"Since you've been so patient," Freddie taps my nose with his index finger playfully. "I think I should reward you by at least telling you where we are headed." He kisses my nose.

"Well, where are we going?" I ask, now appearing child-like with my anticipation to know.

"We're going to Disneyland."

   To understand why Disneyland was important to me, is as important of a concept such as telling time. Because I grew up in the foster care system, and living within a household that preferred to spoil themselves rather than entertain the person who actually needed an escape, I wanted nothing more than to have a day where I'd get to make one dream come true: And that dream was to be happy, at least for one day.

As Freddie and I take our seats, I realize that I was a lucky woman. Freddie remembered something I had told him months prior to our newfound relationship, and as this realization hit, I could not keep my eyes off of him. I could not shake this feeling that this man, this very wealthy man, could have taken us to the Bahamas or Hawaii. Instead, he decided to take us to Disneyland; a place where the security personnel wore mouse-shaped badges, and the world resided in magic and the make-believe.