What you realized when you got into top earners was that almost everyone with wealth came from wealth. But they liked to think that they’d grown up middle class, figure I probably had as well. They didn’t see the invisible padding they’d had all around them their entire lives, their parents and extended family helping them out not simply with cash—and sure that helped—but with risk mitigation. If they crashed and burned after they gambled, they’d have a soft landing. I knew any misstep would take me out of the game completely.
Good thing I thrived on risk. I liked the razor-thin margin between success and failure. It pumped me through with adrenaline. No investor could be frightened by risk, but I went one step further and actually sought it out. The higher the odds, the more I liked the gamble.
Ready for a high-stakes game, I followed Kara up the stairs into my plane. The interior was organized into two sections. Up front there was a gleaming hardwood table and four wide, leather seats. That’s where I did business, ate meals, and played poker with VIP clients and partners who expected nothing less. The back was dedicated to kickin’ it with a stocked wet bar, a leather sofa sectional and a 65-inch flat-screen retractable TV.
I placed my hand to the small of Kara’s back and steered her toward the back of the plane. “We don’t need the table,” I explained. Giving her back a light caress, I added, “Though I might want to put it to use later.”
I let my fingers graze her ass and she gave a light, nervous laugh, instantly flushing pink. A devious smile pulled at the corner of my lips. I wanted her to remember last night, bent over my desk and working for me, ass up getting spanked and stroked. I could hear her desperate moans of pleasure, feel her wetness sliding along my thick fingers. I wanted it on her mind, too, a spike of arousal as she boarded my private plane.
She settled on the couch next to the window. Bottles of water, magazines and light blankets were stocked in various bins and pockets to meet our needs. Sometimes I paid an attendant to tend to food and drink service for the flight. Not this time. Today in the cabin of the plane Kara and I would be alone.
“This is crazy.” Kara caressed the smooth, buttery leather with her hands, taking it all in. I sat next to her and stretched out my long legs. Now that I didn’t have to do it anymore, I wondered how big guys like me even made it onto commercial airplanes, squeezed into coach, trying to get some work done next to a tantruming toddler and behind some dude with his seat reclined all the way back.
“A private plane!” she exclaimed with a laugh, standing to check out the fully-stocked bar.
“Help yourself.”
“What do you want?”
I shrugged. “Whatever you’re having.” She started fixing us two glasses with rocks, limes and Pellegrino.
I liked watching Kara enjoy herself, take in the opulence of my surroundings. It had all amazed me, too, when I’d started out, though I’d never showed it. I’d discovered I was a master at blending in and I used my skills to the utmost, immediately commanding a presence among men of far more consequence. Weakness didn’t get you into the ballgame, and no matter how many times early on I’d wanted to exclaim “no shit!” when someone rolled up in a tricked-out Bentley or pressed some button like James Bond to reveal a wet bar in a C-suite office, I’d had to play it cool.
Now, I was the one used to seeing other people get off on my private plane. Girls loved it, the exclusivity, the intimacy. I usually felt aloof, watching them take it in, my game playing into theirs. It almost got boring. But sweet Kara with her high ponytail and bright eyes, so unpracticed, fresh and real, she made me feel it all over again.
She sat next to me and handed me a drink. “How did you make all this money, Declan?” From her it didn’t sound greedy or fawning. It sounded simple. She knew I’d had nothing. How come I now had so much?
“Wilderness tourism.”
“I figured that. But how did you do it?”
“You want my story?”
“I want your story. From where we last left off.” She took a sip, her words bringing up memories for us both. I’d certainly left off. I didn’t like being that guy, the one who’d stolen off in the dark of night. But it was better that way. She knew what I was capable of, the real me.
“I worked at that ranch I told you about, the one opening up to tourists.”
“I remember you telling me about it.”
“The guy running the place took a bad fall, spent months in a full body cast. He needed someone to take over. I did it.”
“And you were good at it.”
“Damn good.” She smiled at my arrogance and I gave her a wink. “After the accident, even after he healed up he wanted to slow down, spend more time with his family. So he made me a partner.”
“OK, but how’d you grow it into all this?” She gestured around to the private plane.
“Full of questions, aren’t you?” With her, somehow I didn’t mind. She wasn’t a journalist mucking around looking for dirt in my past. They set my teeth on edge.
A magazine had just done a spread on my properties, complete with a photo of me, tall and cool in a custom-made Italian suit. At first, they’d wanted me in a cowboy hat and old dusty Wranglers up on a horse. I’d killed that idea. That part of my life was behind me, now. I’d devoted too much time and effort into becoming the consummate businessman. No sense in reminding anyone that deep inside I might still be a no-name cowpoke. Hell, with my luck, too much publicity would stir up the muck and my deadbeat father might come creeping out from the slime, eager to meet the son he’d abandoned now that there was cash in it.
But talking to Kara put me strangely at ease. “I invested,” I told her. “I never spent a cent on myself, took everything I earned and put it into properties, buying, improving, expanding.”
“How are you so good at it?”
“Instinct.” It sounded crazy, but I somehow knew how to spot opportunities, how to make something out of nothing.
“Yeah?”
“Guess it’s in my blood.” I didn’t know how to explain it. I saw a lot of guys with MBAs who lacked it. I didn’t know if it could be taught. I didn’t even know how I’d learned it. I just knew I had it.
“Is that what your family does?”
“What?”
“Your family.” She stopped, perhaps growing shy at the suddenly cold look in my eyes. “I mean, you never talked much about them. But your parents, what do they do?”
“My mother knew how to hustle.” I gave a dry laugh. “I don’t know about my dad. I never met him.”
“So, you don’t know. Maybe—?”
“No.” I cut her off. I didn’t like how much weight she placed on family, like what your family did defined you. I’d spent my whole life proving the opposite. I didn’t want to sit here with her speculations, like maybe I was a chip off the old block. My father was a dog who’d run out on his pregnant girlfriend, if she’d even been that to him. I didn’t know who he was and I had no interest in finding out.
“Look, we’re taking off.” I shifted on the couch, gesturing at the window and bringing a large thigh against her slender leg. She looked down, instantly riveted by our physical contact. She could feel it too, I realized, the intense electricity that ran between us. Even the slightest contact provoked a full charge.
Reaching over to her thigh, I placed a hand on her white jeans and began tracing the inside seam with my thumb. I didn’t reach too far up. It was the kind of gesture you could make in public without raising an eyebrow. But we were in private, the pilots up front in the cockpit, and this was just the beginning.
She sat up straight, her limbs becoming still and aware.
“Do you see the hotel?” I asked, reaching my other arm across her to point out the window. My bicep grazed her breast and I felt the heat of her through my shirt.
“Yes,” she murmured, drawing in her breath, her nipples growing taut. So responsive. It brought out the predator in me.
“Did you enjoy yourself in my hotel?” I
asked, stroking steadily along the seam on her inner thigh.
“Yes,” she purred. While I enjoyed her happy chatter, I liked watching talking become more difficult for her, her body starting to take over and leave her mind blank.
“I like these jeans, Kara.” My palm moved now along both her thighs, admiring her, slowly stoking the fires, the cotton form-fitting and soft. “They mold to your curves.” My fingers came near the center of her V, but not quite touching. She parted her legs for me to allow more access, her breathing growing shallow.
“Did you buy them for me?”
“Yes.”
“Stand up and show me.” Shy, hesitant, she stood up. I motioned with my finger for her to turn around. I wanted to see her from all angles. Her ass was a work of art in those jeans. “Take them off,” I growled.
“But we’re on a plane!” Kara protested as if we were in the middle of coach surrounded by other passengers.