By the time we made it to the plane, I was sore in many areas. James was becoming quite the kink master I always had suspected he would be, and everything he did to me was intoxicating.
“So, this is your plane?” I asked as we pulled up on the tarmac, and I took in the site of the black private jet that was supposed to take us to the Bahamas.
“Yes, it is,” he replied as the car stopped, and the door opened, allowing us passage towards the plane’s stairs. I was thankful we were flying at night, considering how unforgiving the Miami heat really was.
The last thing I wanted was to be a nasty sweaty mess before I got on the plane. I was hoping to achieve something on the flight that I had never done before. To join the mile high club.
Yet, with much disappointment, James was answering his phone while we boarded, and I had a feeling the entire trip was going to revolve around business.
