Chapter 7: Chapter 7

JETT

I make it a point not to text Aria on Sunday. On Monday, I stroll into the office as if nothing is wrong, though I desperately want to make things right with her.

As I walk past her office, she’s already there, tapping away on the laptop. I simply nod as I walk by and into my office, where I attempt to settle in for the day. About ten minutes later, I hear a soft knock at my door.

“Come in,” I say as I continue typing on my computer.

“Jett,” Aria says. She’s wearing a gray-and-white pantsuit with a black blazer and tall heels. Her dark hair is straight and tucked behind her ear on one side. She approaches my desk confidently yet softly, a serious look on her face.

“I wanted to apologize for Friday. I overreacted,” she says.

I nod. “I’m sorry too. I said some shitty things,” I say, motioning for her to sit in one of the chairs in front of my desk. She looks surprised.

~Does she think so little of me? Of course, she does. You’ve been throwing everything at her since the second she got here.~

She smiles. “Great. Let’s get back to business then,” she says in her professional demeanor. Part of me is grateful to bury this issue, but another part of me is sad to lose the closeness we gained at the gala.

She mentions the article in the tabloid and states that she will respond that nothing romantic occurred between me and my date on Saturday.

Next, we go over the details for my trip to London later this week as well as my work schedule until then. I have a busy week and an even busier trip, as I’ll be meeting with the lawyers of the rideshare company I just purchased.

Unfortunately, I struggle to focus, and my mind wanders, time and time again, to the gold dress and the feel of Aria’s lips.

“Please book a reservation for two at a nice restaurant on Thursday,” I tell her. “Something intimate and romantic.”

“Great,” she says. “How about Le Coucou? They have great food, and it’s super romantic. What time?”

“Eight p.m., thank you,” I say as I silently wonder if she went there with Gray.

“Of course,” she says. “Anything else?”

“Everything else is set for the trip to London on Friday? Is the flight crew and plan confirmed?”

“Yes, I believe so. And will you need me to attend this trip?” she asks.

I normally would have her come—and not just because I want to be around her—but I plan to meet up with Lena and feel it’d be best not to have Aria around. Lena tends to get extra vicious if she senses any competition, and we have some assets we need to sort out.

“Normally, I would, but I’ll only be there for two meetings, and it seems unnecessary to drag you along,” I say. Aria nods, then gets up and leaves.

I pick up my phone and text Philomena.

Jett

Can I pick you up at 7:45 on Thursday?

Philomena

Yes! Can’t wait. 😘

***

Philomena is in an impossibly tiny green dress with cutouts around the hips.

She’s a gorgeous supermodel from Greece with long, wavy hair and longer legs. She has a sexy accent and is sweet and playful. There isn’t a single thing wrong with her, but the connection we share has never been more than physical.

Regardless, we have a pleasant time at Le Coucou—Aria was right; it’s a gorgeous restaurant, and the food is incredible—and thirty minutes later, Philomena is spread out on my bed in nothing but a white thong and a lace bra.

I hook my fingers in the straps of her thong, slide it down her hips, and toss it aside. Then I trail kisses up her thigh before burying my face in her tight pussy.

“Ah, Jett, yes!”

I feel her small frame wriggle and writhe underneath me as I pump my fingers in and out of her. We’re just getting started, but I can feel her body tighten as her orgasm nears.

Normally, I would drag it out longer, but I decide to move things along. I slide a condom on and slowly move to enter her. As I do, she wraps her legs around my waist and runs her nails down my chest.

After a few minutes, I slide a hand under her back so I can flip her over. I pull her ass up so it’s right in front of me, her face mashed into the pillow.

Now that I know she can take it, I dig my fingers into her hips and slam into her. She lets out a primal cry as I start thrusting. Even through the condom, I can tell she’s very wet.

I slide all the way out, run the tip of my dick up and down her folds, then slide back in. Philomena continues moaning and grinding on me.

Suddenly, I pull out and pick her up, turning her to face me. She wraps her legs around my waist, and I walk across the room, pinning her against my bedroom window.

I slide back into her while looking over her shoulder at the New York City skyline. It feels good, but I have a mental block and just can’t seem to get there.

I decide to let my mind wander to Lena, to that threesome I had in Mexico, to Aria. I imagine that tight gold dress yanked up around Aria’s hips, exposing her round, voluptuous ass.

I picture my handprint on that ass, my other hand wrapped around her breast. I picture her writhing in my sheets, in my shower, underneath me.

Before I have time to prepare, I’m finally releasing. I lean forward and kiss her neck and her collarbone, keeping my eyes closed and pretending I’m inside someone else.

***

The next morning, I shower and finish packing my bag. As I’m pulling my jeans on, Philomena rouses and props her head of wild hair up on her hand.

“Why are you leaving so soon? Come back to bed,” she purrs and pats the bed next to her.

I smile at her. “Sorry, I have to catch a flight soon, but please stay as long as you like. Ronda is here somewhere, and she can make you something to eat if you’d like, or she can call David, my driver, who will take you anywhere.”

She sticks her lower lip out.

I lean down, grab her head with both my hands, and kiss it.

She smiles at me and lays back down. “Where are you going?”

I pull a V-neck shirt on, then a North Face jacket. “I have a few meetings in London,” I say.

“When you get back, will you call me?”

I look at her. She looks hopeful but not because she’s smitten. We both know nothing more will happen between us.

“Sure,” I say, then I grab my bag.