CRAVING DADDY'S BEST FRIEND

Chapter Seventeen: The Silent Space

Abigail Macron

The narrow cabin restroom became an absolute pressure cooker, the metallic hum of the jet’s plumbing and the low roar of the engines outside the tiny fuselage framing a quiet that was terrifyingly fragile.

Caleb’s hand remained firmly over my mouth, his fingers a warm, unyielding barrier that caught every ragged, desperate gasp I tried to draw.

He didn't move for several seconds after that initial, deep entry. He stayed buried inside me, his forehead resting against mine, his chest heaving as he fought to master his own breathing.

The mirror directly behind me was already fogging from the intense, concentrated heat of our bodies trapped in the small space.

Abby "Look at me," he whispered, a barely audible vibration against my skin as he slowly lowered his hand from my lips, replacing it with the intense, unblinking focus of his dark eyes. "If you make a sound, Abby... if you give me away now, we both drop out of the sky."

"I won't," I choked out, my hands gripping the edge of the marble vanity so hard the stone cut into my palms. "I won't, Caleb. Just don't stop."

A dark, primal resolve settled over his features. He didn't continue the heavy, rhythmic thrusts that threatened to shake the lightweight bathroom door. Instead, with an agonizingly slow and deliberate movement, he withdrew from me completely. The sudden absence of his heat made me let out a sharp, involuntary whimper, but before I could protest, Caleb dropped to his knees on the tiled floor of the small restroom.

The space was so tight his broad shoulders brushed against the sides of the vanity and the vacuum toilet, but he completely ignored the discomfort. He grabbed my thighs, his large hands anchoring my knees and pulling them impossibly wide, forcing me to shift forward until I was balancing precariously on the very edge of the marble counter.

I looked down, my breath catching entirely in my throat. From this angle, under the sharp, recessed LED lights, I could see the stark contrast of his silver-flecked hair against the flushed, sensitive skin of my inner thighs.

He didn't hesitate. He leaned in, his hot breath hitting my core a fraction of a second before his tongue made contact.

A violent tremor shot straight up my spine, my back arching violently as my head hit the mirror behind me with a soft thud. I instantly brought my hand to my own mouth, biting down on my knuckles to stifle the scream that wanted to rip from my lungs.

Caleb was ruthless. He used the flat of his tongue in broad, heavy strokes, wiping away the slick evidence of our previous encounter before narrowing his focus entirely. His lips parted, and he found the hypersensitive bead of my c******s, drawing it into the warm, wet vacuum of his mouth.

The sensation was overwhelming, an agonizingly sharp spike of pure pleasure that made my vision blur into a haze of static. He began to suck on it with a slow, rhythmic intensity, his tongue swirling around the tight knot of nerves with a predatory expertise that had me writhing against the marble.

"Caleb... oh God, Caleb," I breathed through my teeth, my fingers burying themselves into his thick hair, alternately pulling him closer and trying to push him away as the pleasure became too intense to bear.

He didn't relent. He increased the pressure, his lips tightening around me as his tongue flicked faster, driving me toward a precipice that felt entirely different from before. In the daylight of the suite, the pleasure had been wild and loud; here, in the suffocating restriction of the locked bathroom, the building climax felt heavy, dark, and dangerous. My hips moved involuntarily, lifting off the counter, chasing the friction of his mouth as the internal tension tightened into a coil that was about to snap.

He knew exactly where I was. He could feel the frantic, rhythmic pulsing of my inner muscles against his jaw. Without warning, while his mouth continued that torturous, heavy suction, he slid two fingers deep inside my soaked core, pumping them in a fierce, upward motion that met the rhythm of his tongue.

The double assault was the breaking point.

A muffled, broken sob tore from my throat as my body went completely rigid. The orgasm hit me like a physical blow, a violent, blinding convulsion that had me clawing at his shoulders, my legs locking tightly around his neck as I convulsed against his face. Caleb held me through it, his mouth never leaving me, drinking in the slick, frantic release of my climax until the last tremor finally subsided.

I collapsed backward against the mirror, my chest heaving, my forehead slick with sweat as the room slowly stopped spinning.

Caleb slowly rose to his feet, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes dark and completely devoid of regret. He looked down at me, his massive frame still rigid with his own unfulfilled desire, but the cold, corporate timeline was already reasserting itself. The digital clock on the vanity mirror read 1:45 AM.

"Get cleaned up," he murmured, his voice rougher than ever as he reached down to retrieve his discarded tie from the floor. "We land in four hours, Abby. The game resumes the second that door opens.”