Jessica doesn't trust men. Worse, she has a string of short relationships and runs away when things get too serious. Demons from her past resurface when she meets him, Angel Seth Saint, her new teacher with a burning look. And, even if the young wom...
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Yet the pilot's announcement somehow works, as Angel finally lets go of me and gets off the bed. He quickly picks up a towel, ties it around his waist and slightly opens the cabin door.
"Mamma!" he shouts.
I know she can only see his head in the doorway, but it's enough to make her laugh. She, like Chacha. And, in turn, I join them. The situation is so funny that I'm at a loss for words.
"What do you want, bambino?"
"Tell the pilot I need 15 minutes."
"I thought you had more endurance than that," teases Chacha.
I can't see his face, but I know he's giving them a look as black as darkness. But they're just laughing. Who can blame them? It's the only way to react to this kind of situation Angel, in her towel, begs her mother to talk to the pilot. When she herself can't stop laughing?! Yet she makes an effort.
"I'll take care of it..."
She starts laughing again and he closes the door. Angel turns to me. I straighten up, afraid he'll launch another attack. But fortunately, he has other plans. Instead, he fetches me some clothes and lays them on the bed.
"It's time to get dressed, or this landing might be memorable but not in a good way."
I laugh again, but he's right. It's time to stop the nonsense and get serious for two minutes. Especially since, even if I don't say so, I'm starving. I haven't eaten much of anything substantial since last night, when Sophia brought me a tray. And even then, I was so preoccupied that I couldn't finish it. My stomach is screaming, and if I don't get it something soon, it's going to find a way to slap me around.
So I slip on the pair of jeans Angel hands me. But I'm not feeling the little pink blouse that comes with them. So, while his back is turned, I snatch his shirt instead. But obviously, I'm not quick enough and get caught. I'm holding the poor thing on one side, and he's holding it on the other.
"You're really looking for punishment," he threatens with his back to me.
But that doesn't stop me. I pull so hard that he almost falls to the ground. But I don't care, I've won. He turns slowly, glowering at me as I smilingly pull on his shirt.
"All you had to do was be faster," I tease him. "When it comes to fucking me, you're the first. But when it comes to pulling a poor piece of fabric, there's nobody left..."
You're playing a very dangerous game, my conscience warns me. But it's too late, I've already enjoyed myself. And since my DOM doesn't counter-attack, I take it that he too has no objection to me rebelling from time to time. Well, don't object. Yet this time, he nonchalantly walks over to the bed and leans over me. So much so, that I find myself propped up on my elbows and his lips almost brush mine.
But he doesn't kiss me. No, he prefers to pick up the pink blouse and excites me on the way. He spends a long moment staring at my brown pupils, then straightens up, a little too quickly for my liking. But at least I can watch him get dressed as a consolation prize.
