Fiona's nails dug into his skin and Bran shuddered, increasing his pace. Fuck, he hissed when she pulled his hair. The pain nearly drove him insane.
"Harder," he managed to disgrace the word out somehow, "pull them harder."
Fiona complied, pulling on them hard enough for Brandon's eyes to roll back.
His fingers dug deeper into her skin and within seconds, she came. Brandon continued, thrusting into her sloopyly, before he joined her at the end of our climax.
The pull on his hair gradually lossend and for some reason, it irritated him. Bran patted her, suddenly indicating her for letting her leg go from around his waist.
Fiona slowly got down and gave him a slightly embarrassed smile, that brand returned, despite his irritation.
With a quick look down, he decided to pull away with his irritation, momentarily. "Allow me to help you."
He grabbed a few wipes, helped her wipe everything away from her legs to her pussy before throwing it all away.
By the time he had turned back, Fiona had hurriedly dressed herself.
"I'll go now." She whispered. "And this was like, fab."
Bran winked and watched her leave. He took time to clean himself up and fix a little bit of his appearance. He is not wearing much given that he was going to travel for 10 hours, but it was still worth looking presentable.
The blonde next to his seat was still up, reading something, and it took one look for him to give Bran a knowing smirk. "Nice. First time?"
Bran, once seated, replied, "Sorry?"
"The mile high club, has it been your first time or you're already a member?"
"Oh, already one." Bran smiled, not being able to hide it.
"Nice man," the man patted his thigh like some sort of congratulatory pat on the back, "that's one way to enter America."
Bran chuckled.
Might be, he agreed. But it was not his first time in america. He had arrived in the country with his grandfather quite a few times before for business.
It was only because of his grandfather's declining health that they had to put that particular venture of expanding their business in the states on a back burner.
Once he had fallen asleep, the journey became easier because he remembered being woken up by the air hostess because they were about to land. If Brandon was correct, he had a camera snap. Groggily, he sat up and put on his seatbelt again until the plane finally landed.
As he was in first class, they were given priority to broad down first which he did leisurely.
Brandon had made sure to book a hotel fast and instructed them to send a driver whom he spotted quickly. Once his luggage was loaded in the trunk of the car, they were off in the direction of the hotel.
I would have to find a good place to live right away. Otherwise, if I continue staying in the hotel, £50,000 would vanish in the air. He pursued his lips in slight worry.
New York was not extremely friendly to live in right now. He would rather have to come up with a studio apartment. That was very small, or high enough that he would have to come up with an entirely different budget, just to accommodate living.
Damn, it did not take him more than a minute to figure that out. This was why their grandfather had given them justice, some of money and the rest of their salary to live on. It was all about budgeting, in life and in the company.
"Mr Wallace," the host on the receptionist clicked his name on the keyboard, "yes, Sir, your room is ready."
"Thank you," Brandon took the key from him, "and if possible, can I have the newspaper with the housing column?"
"Certainly ir. But if I may suggest, a broker or an Instagram page of rentals may be more useful." The host, Ben as his name tag said, smiled, "It's what New Yorkers are doing, Housing otherwise can get difficult to find."
It was that bad? Trying to keep his miserable thoughts away, Brandon smiled. "Please send me the recommendations with the newspaper. Thank you."
He turned away from the reception and walked towards the left after the bellboy had taken away his luggage. Fuck, he cursed in his mind, housing was going to be extremely difficult to tackle.