Marinette has been wed to Adrien for a year now, but all of a sudden he passes away in an acute car crash. A few weeks after, she realizes she is pregnant with their precious son... her last memory of Adrien runs in the bloodstream of her body. But...
Félix returns and sits down in the driver's seat, shutting the door as he takes off his shoes and pulls down his pair of black pants that he is wearing right now. Quicker than expected, he leans back and puts on the fresh pair of pants from his bag in the trunk, showing no struggle at all.
I watch him for no reason and giggle, "Are you mad at me or something...?" I play with my hair and make an innocent face.
He zips up and puts on a belt through the loops of the pants, shaking his head, "No."
"Are you sure?"
His eyes look at me once he finishes, "Why would I be mad at you? You've done nothing but help me de-stress~" He grabs my throat with his huge, strong hand, and pulls me in to kiss me firmly, assuring me further. This was completely unexpected for me, yet I'm turned on all over again without a doubt. I kiss him back deeply and moan softly, "Mmmm~" loving the feeling of his hand on my throat. This gave me a sense of a different kind of possession; a fulfilling dominance. I love it so much that I want to be choked. I really do.
He pulls away and lets go, starting the engine of the Bugatti again and letting the headlights light up, illuminating the dark road ahead. When he gets out to put his dirty pants in the trunk, I put my seatbelt back on and apply another layer of my shiny pink lip gloss after cleaning the excess that remained on my face. Soon, he comes back and puts his seatbelt on as well, then he steers to the left to get back on the main road which was currently empty in front of this beach.
After an hour more of driving, we finally reach the boarding location on time where I can see the small private jet standing in the spacious, guarded grounds. It is 9:31 p.m. right now, so we step out of the car after he parks in the garage-like building, and we go to the trunk to get our bags. But as I should've known, he grabs both his and my bag, not letting me carry mine. "Baby, when will you stop being such a sweet gentleman?" I ask, watching the trunk close by itself which makes the car also lock as soon as Félix taps a button on his phone screen.
"Never." He responds, walking out towards the jet where a few of his men are waiting, so I follow behind, blushing from how resistant and respectful he is.
He begins to climb up the steps, gesturing for me to do the same, so I obey, excited to see what the interior looks like because from the exterior it seems like the perfect size for just a few people to go along. Not to mention since his assistant and secretary are coming along with us on this partial-business trip.
With wonder, I step through the door and feel my eyes widen as I look around and take everything in from how clean and luxurious the seats look, including the comforting vibe it brings instantly.
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