POV Mira
The email came just past midnight. Four words. No greeting, no explanation.
Pack your bags. We are leaving the country.
I’d stared at it for a good thirty seconds, blinking in the glow of my phone screen, before my heart started beating so hard it was almost comical. Leo Stern was… unpredictable. But this? This was beyond him being mysterious — this was borderline cinematic.
My fingers flew over my screen before my brain caught up.
Me: Where? Why?
Leo: You’ll see.
That was it. No emojis, no over-explaining. Just enough to keep me pacing my bedroom like an idiot until I gave up and called the only person who could help me make sense of this.
Amber picked up on the first ring. “It’s midnight. Are you dying?”
“Better,” I said, breathless. “Leo just told me to pack my bags, we’re leaving the country.”
There was a beat of silence. Then—“WHAT?”
I had to hold the phone away from my ear.
“You heard me!”
“Mira, oh my god, this is… this is insane! This is… oh my god, what are you wearing? Do you have an airport outfit? Are you going private or commercial? Wait, it’s Leo, of course you’re going private—”
“Amber!” I laughed despite the adrenaline coursing through me. “I haven’t even started packing!”
“Then hang up and pack! No, wait, put me on speaker so I can yell at you while you pack. Go! Go, woman!”
By the time I zipped the last suitcase, Amber had gone from squealing to giving me a fully unsolicited list of “subtle but sexy” poses for private jet selfies. I hung up with her still mid-rant, my cheeks aching from smiling.
The car Leo sent was already waiting outside my building before sunrise. The driver didn’t say much — just took my bags with quiet efficiency and held the door for me. I tried not to bounce in my seat the whole way to the private airstrip.
Leo was waiting by the jet when we pulled up, dressed in dark slacks and a black button-down rolled at the sleeves. He looked… annoyingly perfect. Hands in his pockets, hair catching the early light like it was placed there on purpose.
“Mira.” He said my name like it was a fact, not a greeting. His gaze flicked over me, quick but deliberate. “You packed light.”
“Three bags is light,” I said, stepping out.
A hint of a smirk curved his mouth. “We’ll see.”
Inside the jet, the air smelled faintly of leather and something warm — cinnamon, maybe. He helped me with my carry-on even though I told him I could manage. The gesture wasn’t flashy, but it was… sweet. Almost disarming.
Once we were settled into the cream leather seats, I glanced at him over the armrest. “Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”
“No.”
“No?”
“It’s a surprise.”
I tilted my head. “You know I hate surprises.”
His lips quirked again. “I know you say you hate them. But you don’t.”
I wanted to argue, but the plane had started to taxi, and the hum of the engines filled the space between us. There was something about the way he was watching me — steady, unblinking — that made my throat go dry.
Somewhere over the ocean, the cabin felt hotter than hell. Or maybe it was just him—Leo—sitting there like he owned the fucking sky. He unbuckled his seatbelt slow, eyes locked on me, and turned until his knee brushed mine.
“Stand up,” he said, low enough that it felt like an order.
My brows pulled together. “Why?”
His mouth curved, but it wasn’t playful. “Because I’m going to kiss you, and I don’t want this armrest in the way. And when I’m done kissing you, I’m going to fuck you, and I’m not doing it sitting down.”
The honesty in his voice hit me like a punch, sharp and deep. No teasing, no warm-up—just the kind of filthy promise that made my thighs press together. My pulse was hammering as I stood, slow, deliberate. He rose too, closing the small gap between us until his chest was brushing mine and I could feel the steady, heavy heat of his cock through his tailored pants.
One hand cupped my jaw, thumb dragging under my eye, his gaze devouring me like he was memorizing the exact second before he ruined me. Then he kissed me—hard, filthy, taking my mouth like it was his right. His tongue slid past my lips, hungry, owning every gasp I gave him.
My fingers fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer until his arm wrapped around my waist, crushing me against him. I could feel how big he was, thick and pressing against my stomach, making my cunt throb with the urge to ride him right there.
The hum of the engines blurred into nothing, the world outside the windows gone. All that existed was the heat of his mouth, the press of his body, the way his breath mingled with mine in the charged air.
When he finally broke the kiss, he didn’t step back. His mouth grazed my ear. “You’re dripping for me already, aren’t you? Bet you’d let me bend you over that leather seat and fuck this tight little cunt until you’re screaming loud enough for the cockpit to hear.”
My breath hitched. “Leo—”
“Shh,” he murmured, sliding his hand down, over my ass, gripping it hard enough to make me gasp. “Turn around. Hands on the seat. Now.”
The cabin felt even smaller as I obeyed, my palms sinking into buttery leather. His body pressed against mine, his cock grinding slow against my ass, and his hand slipped between my legs, cupping me through my panties.
“Fuck,” he growled. “Soaked. I’m gonna have you bouncing on my cock before we land. And when you’re full and shaking, I’ll keep you plugged the rest of the flight so you don’t forget who made you feel this way.”