𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐦 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞

“ Flight Of Desire ”

The soft hum of the jet's engines filled the luxurious cabin as the private jet soared through the night sky, cutting through the clouds on its journey back to the White House. The atmosphere inside the jet was quiet, almost serene, save for the tension that simmered between the two women seated across from each other.

Onika sat with her legs curled beneath her, her chin resting on her fist, a pair of designer glasses perched on her nose. Her eyes were fixed on Beyoncé, who sat across from her, looking effortlessly stunning in a white loose-fitting pants and a cropped tailored top that accentuated her curves. Her red heels matched the color of her lips, and her hair fell in soft, wavy curls around her shoulders, a perfect blowout that framed her face.

Onika couldn’t take her eyes off her. There was something mesmerizing about the way Beyoncé carried herself, an aura of confidence and sensuality that drew Onika in like a moth to a flame. She let out a soft, appreciative hum, unable to keep her thoughts to herself any longer.

“Mhh,” Onika murmured, her voice cutting through the silence.

Beyoncé, who had been focused on the work laid out on the table in front of her, looked up, a questioning expression on her face. “Huh?”

Onika’s eyes darkened with desire as she smiled at her lover. “You look so good right now,” she said, her voice dripping with admiration.

Beyoncé raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. “Oh please, I hear that every day,” she replied, trying to keep her tone light, though her heart fluttered at the compliment.

Onika’s smile faltered slightly, a hint of jealousy flashing in her eyes. “And who tells you that?” she asked, her voice low and possessive.

Beyoncé let out a soft scoff, her amusement clear as she shook her head. “You’re jealous?” she asked, disbelief coloring her tone.

Instead of answering, Onika stood up, her movements slow and deliberate as she crossed the small space between them. She got down on her knees in front of Beyoncé, her hands resting on her lover’s thighs as she looked up at her with an intensity that sent a shiver down Beyoncé’s spine.

“Not now…” Beyoncé started, her voice trailing off as she took in the sight of her powerful lover kneeling before her.

Onika rested her chin on Beyoncé’s knees, her eyes locking onto hers with an unspoken promise. “You have a sex addiction, you know that?” Beyoncé remarked, though there was no real bite to her words. She was teasing, trying to mask the effect Onika had on her.

Onika chuckled softly, her breath warm against Beyoncé’s skin. “No,” she said, her voice a low, seductive purr. “I have a Beyoncé addiction. I’m addicted to you.”

The words sent a rush of heat through Beyoncé’s body, and she found herself momentarily lost in the depths of Onika’s gaze. “I need to finish my work,” she protested weakly, though even she could hear the lack of conviction in her voice.

Onika didn’t respond. Instead, she leaned in closer, her lips brushing against Beyoncé’s knee, sending a jolt of electricity up her spine. Slowly, Onika’s hands slid up Beyoncé’s thighs, her touch light and teasing, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

Beyoncé let out a shaky breath, her resolve wavering as she felt Onika’s lips move higher, pressing soft kisses along her inner thigh. “Onika,” she whispered, though it sounded more like a plea than a protest.

Onika looked up at her, her eyes blazing with a desire that mirrored Beyoncé’s own. “Let me take care of you,” she murmured, her voice husky and full of promise.