Chapter 43 LOWER
I heard the flight attendant's footsteps approaching and pushed him back, feeling the blush on my cheeks as I crossed my legs. Patrick, without hesitation, sniffed the pants and laughed, and I, embarrassed, slapped his arm and grimaced to cover it up. He stored the garment in his pocket, amused by the situation.
“Ladies and gentlemen, may I suggest an afternoon coffee?” another flight attendant, more composed than the previous one, interrupted.
“Please, black coffee and accompaniments.” Patrick smiled boldly. “My apprentice needs to be fully energized for when we land!”
I glared at him, while the flight attendant smiled mischievously at me, and red as a tomato, I asked, “Coffee with sweetener, please.” I looked away at the clouds, hoping she would move away before I could look back at him. “Mr. Morgan, could you be more discreet?”
“Discreet about what?” He smiled relatedly. “About not wanting you to wear pants, or about wanting to see you naked again and be responsible for your orgasms?”
“Patrick!” I exclaimed repressively, feeling the pulsation between my legs yearning for him. “Can we keep professionalism on this trip?”
Before he could answer, the flight attendant returned with the orders and left quickly. I saw her slide into the room where Greg was, and I frowned, ignoring it.
“You know, there are two rooms on this jet. Aren't you feeling tired?” The CEO asked presumptuously, subtly placing his hands on my knees, playing with his nails, and going up and down on my skin.
“I slept wonderfully well last night, Mr. Morgan. I'm fine.” I rolled my eyes, annoyed.
“Let me rephrase, Mrs. Elisabeth: We are going to have one of our lessons. You can decide if it starts here or in the room.” Patrick leaned in, challenging me in a staring contest.
“You wouldn't dare…” I leaned forward. “You can't force me to participate.”
“Force, me? I'm a gentleman apprentice, but...” Patrick also leaned forward, running the tip of his tongue between my lips, and I shivered at the gentle contact. “What kind of master would I be if I didn't take every opportunity to teach you?”
“And who said you're my master? As far as I remember, I didn't agree to be your apprentice.” I raised my hands, running them through the CEO's silky hair, savoring the moment. His warm breath caressed my skin; his skillful and daring hands ventured to move closer to my intimate area and then retreated, leaving me eager.
“Not verbally, but...” He bit the tip of my chin, kissing it immediately after, inhaling my scent. His fingers moved up without warning, pressing against my thighs. “Your body accepted me a long time ago, Mrs. Elisabeth. You just don't want to admit it!”
“How presumptuous...” I teased, slowly pulling away.
Patrick grabbed my nape, holding me in place, his eyes filled with lust. Wetting his lips, he unzipped the front of my dress, revealing a subtle V-neckline. Gently caressing the area, he picked up the water bottle from the table and, opening the lid with his mouth, simply poured it over my dress.
“I think now you'll have to take off this dress.” Running the zipper down to my belly, Patrick sighed, kneeling in front of me, ready to unzip it completely.
“Mr. Morgan...” I held his hand, squeezing it. “People will see us...”
“If that bothers you, we can go to the passenger cabin.” Patrick zipped up the dress, leaving the bra slightly exposed, caressing my mouth. “I want to teach you how to describe the sensual scene of undressing a stunning woman!”
“Greg is there with the flight attendant, and...” I sighed, a little trembling. “We don't need any lessons. I'll stop writing and stop what we're doing.”
I got up, zipping up the rest of the dress, and headed to the bathroom. Patrick followed me in silence, his hands in his pockets. It was strange to see a man who never stayed quiet and always had something to say suddenly silent. I looked back, and he was following me, tilting his head to the side. I opened the door, but the CEO grabbed my wrist, turning me to him, pushing the door, and leading us inside.
“I forbid you to stop writing!” His eyes were blazing, his tone firm, as he caressed my skin, placing a strand of hair behind my ear.
“You can't forbid me from that; we are nothing.” Tight in the small bathroom, my words seemed to have affected him, and he furrowed his brow.
“Then are you looking for a title?” With narrowed eyes, he stared at me, quickly unzipping, breaking the closure, and sliding it down my shoulders, where his lips followed the movement. Patrick dragged his warm lips up to my neck and then to my ear. “Is that what you're seeking? To be something solid of mine, so you stop this madness?”
“I...” I moaned as his hands slid down my belly to my intimacy, which he grabbed with dominance, caressing. “That's not what I'm looking for; I don't aspire to involvements...”
“Why not?” Pressing on my most sensitive spot, Patrick easily lifted one of my legs, locking it between his, resting his foot on the toilet. “What's stopping you?”
So many things, I thought... But mainly, I didn't want to drag him into the quagmire of my past. I had already involved my grandmother in my mess, which was the reason for maintaining an abusive relationship for so many years, out of fear of the monster hurting her. However, when I received her diagnosis, I knew I needed to make a decision; I needed to protect us and run away!
“Patrick...” I called him by his first name, and he looked at me seriously. “You won't want to get involved with me...”
“I disagree with that...” Digging a finger in, Patrick teased, bringing the moisture from the inside out. I shuddered at his touches and hinted at lowering my leg, raising his body more than mine. We were pressed against the wall, and he bit above the bra, smiled, and stared at me. “Why do you think I shouldn't get involved with you? You can't say it's because it's unprofessional.”
Throbbing in my intimacy, it was difficult to focus on a plausible excuse. My mind screamed: Because I have a psychopathic ex-fiancé who can appear at any moment and kill you in cold blood, as he did with my grandmother's doctor for just being kind in giving me the news about her Alzheimer's?
“I am a broken person. You deserve someone on your level, and I am not that person!” I finally replied, pushing his arms away. I opened the door and stopped for a moment before leaving, with tears in my eyes. “So please, stop complicating things.”
I finally left, and Patrick didn't follow me. I picked up the suitcase and took it to the empty office to change clothes. Furthermore, I sat down with a heavy weight on my chest that seemed impossible to carry. At the edge of the bed, I allowed the weight of my overwhelmed heart to overflow in tears. I could have run away, but I was still trapped in my past and the cause of my traumas, entangled in its icy chains that pulled me down. And there, amidst my despair, I realized that my dreams were just fragile bubbles, destined to burst in the arid air of my desolate reality. I was nothing but a secretary, with dreams so distant and unreal that I hardly dared to dream anymore.