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The Pilot

    
This morning’s fashion show was a disaster and I was running late for my flight to Milan. Before the cab could fully stop at the St. Petersburg-Clearwater International Airport’s curb, I tossed the fee plus tip at the cabby and flung the door open. That forced him to make a quick stop and I jumped from the cab bumping smack into a handsome man with eyes so blue they had to have been plucked right from the heavens. But I was late and didn’t have time to be social.

As the aroma of Grey Flannel Cologne and the smell of leather from his black bomber jacket tickled my senses, I dragged my carry-on bags from the back seat of the musty cab and muttered some kind of an apology to the guy for stepping on his foot. Without waiting for his response, I raced through the doors and the airport as fast as I could. I did pick up the pace, but let’s face it, I was wearing a tight white skirt and blouse with red stilettos…I wasn’t getting anywhere fast.

I heaved my carry-on, my purse and the ticket to Italy over to my right side so I could check my Rolex. I can make it. I had five minutes to catch the flight. 

I made it through security and finally got to the gate. Where was everyone? I rushed to the boarding desk. Out of breath I asked the girl, “Is this …

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The Bodyguard: Page Two

“Are you serious?” He looked a little surprised when he asked.
“Of course.”
He turned away from me. His indigo eyes canvassed the passing scenery. His long fingers reached for then pressed the button to lower the privacy window. “Luke?”
“Yes Sir.”
“Take a detour to Saint John’s Cemetery off Queens Blvd.”
“Saint John’s Cemetery? Oookay, but then we can’t take the Williamsburg Bridge.”
“That’s fine. Queen Boulevard will take us right to the Queens Borough Bridge into Manhattan.” 
If by intent or by mistake Cage left the privacy window down and moved back to hold me in his strong arms. I felt my body heat with excitement as he searched my eyes for an answer. “You sure you want to do this?”
The devil that I am, my answer was a titillating French kiss. He responded, stroking his tongue against mine in a fevered battle that made my pussy twitch with a stimulating warmth. His hands glided up my …

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The bodyguard

 

From the diary of Miss Havens:

I remember it was midnight when the phone rang. I picked it up to hear his voice; Sebastian Osborne, a sexy, independently wealthy self-made billionaire by the time he was thirty-five, had called asking if I’d like to spend the week with him and a few of our New York friends. Of course I said, yes. Sebastian was an interesting older man. He’d created some tiny little part they used on every shuttle that went into space. Whenever he’d fly into New York, I’d fly up from Miami to meet him. As usual, he was sending his driver to pick me up at the airport, but this time it wouldn’t be Eric, apparently he’d taken sick and Sebastian had hired a new driver. 

I heard my name called and glanced up from writing in my diary to look into the most seductive indigo colored eyes I’d ever seen. The young man standing before me radiated pure sex. “Are you Sebastian’s new driver?” I asked as his eyes fell shamelessly over me in a hungry sweep. I was instantly attracted by his strong appearance and raven-black hair that hung in a seductive curl over his forehead. 
He gave a cocky smirk that sent a shot of heat to my pussy. “No madam, I’m Cage, Mister Osborne’s bodyguard. He sent me to escort you to his …

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