But why is this the first I’ve heard about this program?
Her message pops up instantly, which makes me suspicious she had it pre-typed.
Mom:
Because acceptance wasn’t guaranteed, I kept my application quiet until I was sure they would accept me. I have some trial medication to take now before an in-house consultation in four weeks. You should be back in time, but if not, no bother. Aunt Marcelle has offered to hold down the fort.
I wipe at a rogue tear clinging to my cheek. It smears across my phone screen when I reply.
Me:
I’ll be back in time. But…
I stare at the last word I typed for eternity before I delete it and then stab the send button.
It takes my mother a lot longer to reply this time.
Mom:
Okay. I will call you later to tell you more.
I assume she’s rushing off because she still believes aircrafts crash if anyone dares to switch on their phones midflight, but my assumption changes when I receive another message.
Mom:
Wynne is being called in by Doctor Clestonv.
My fingers fly even faster than before, yet my good luck message sits unread while I watch my phone, hoping for a notification.
Defeated and somewhat nauseous, I stow my phone away before focusing back on the task at hand. My face still shows my wish to flee. I just can’t bring myself to do it now. The very man I’m endeavoring to run from paid for the trial program that could save my mother’s life.
The reminder has me shouting, “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
“Are we talking about flying a plane or making you come?” I roll my eyes, and Mikhail laughs. “I’ve got you for both if you’ll get your damn ass in the plane.”
When he nudges his head, soundlessly demanding me into his toy plane, I accept the hand being held out by a tarmac crew member before endeavoring to slot into the seat next to Mikhail.
I enter tits first, and then legs.
My ass is the last body part stripped from view.
Yes, it is as awkward as you’re imagining, but I felt the heat of the crew member’s watch, and the only time I refuse to not make Mikhail realize what he threw away is when I’m six feet under.
“I’ll get it,” Mikhail snaps out when the crewman attempts to fasten my harness, beginning the task at my chest.
Mikhail rips the straps out of the crewman’s hands while narrowing his eyes at him. His response starts a point tally system that was reset over a decade ago.
Point one, Emmy.
Furious heat teems through me when Mikhail tugs hard on the restraints a second after latching my harness. It paintsmy dress to my skin and exposes my body’s response to his closeness.
My nipples are erect and begging to be touched, and although enough lace covers my sticky panties, the scent lingering in the air announces my aroused state.
Mikhail flicks his eyes to my breasts for the quickest second before he returns them to the many instruments and buttons in front of him.
His effortless expression and ease with preparing the plane for takeoff announce this wasn’t a last-minute decision to stain my underwear. He knows what he’s doing and loves my panicked squirms as much as I do his jealous glares.
After requesting permission from the control tower to approach the runway, the plane jerks toward the landing strip. Partway there, Mikhail nudges his head to something behind my left shoulder. “If you want to talk during the flight, you’ll need to put on your headset.”
