@cartelheir sent the following: 06. in a private jet, on the way to a business trip. + Partition - One muse puts on their best lingerie to seduce the other
V.01 ━━ In his line of business, there was a set of unspoken guidelines formed from common sense to keep things professional and safe, with the most prominent ones being: Don't gamble other people's money, don't fuck with your own clients [ or their wives ]. In the past 27 years Le Chiffre managed to break both of those with, with enough frequency for it to end up in the file MI-6 once had on him. Patricia was one of those frequent trespassions.
This whole ordeal was good proof of why the said common sense was important. Quantum's meetings were sparse, but hidden in plain sight, this time Dvořák's Armida at the National Theater being their cover. Once his obligations were out of the way, he had arranged that he had a new potential client for her own business. Quid pro quo, as had always worked for him, and didn't seemed to bother Patricia.
He had just put the phone back in his jacket's pocket when they reached cruising altitude, eye seeking her only to find her standing, speaking to the [ significantly taller ] air hostess, half-smiling lips instructed the woman to leave, the cabin's door clicking after her. He never ceased to find amusing her capacity to impose and control despite the petite construction. Once the cabin door clicked close, it took but a second for the same commanding air to turn to him, prompting his own lips to mimic her smirk. His attention wasn't optional.
At some point that Le Chiffre Marcel couldn't bother to recollect the short distance ceased from existing, and Patricia had made herself comfortable on his lap, still with the unwavering demanding glare despite his hands already resting on her tighs ━ now only felt, as his eyes had long lowered from hers, focusing on everything beneath ━ as the straps of her Coperni leather dress were pulled, a familiar bra revealed from under it, a gift he thought fitting to 'mourn' Cèsar's demise. ❛❛ << I knew gold would suit you. >> ❜❜ Spanish felt appropriate, warmer than english, closer to his own french and to the feeling [ carnal as it was ] that was behind the sliding up of hands, move which ended with hands unabashedly gropping her ass, pulling her closer.
In no time sheer tulle, golden embroidery and golden jewelry were the only things left on her, a much more fitting look in his opinion. Her own demands were made known through grinding hips, removed tie and open button shirt. The entire week being spent between business and sex hardly made it all boring to him, the same readiness made itself present each time, except this time it pushed prudence away, pointless really, as he couldn't materialize condoms and stopping wasn't even seen as option. Patricia been his sole company for the past week either way... There was little consequence to be considered, and neither commented on it.
One smooth move of his hands was enough to pull her an inch upwards, index and middle finger sliding under delicate fabric, one pulling it aside as other began teasing her cunt, entering her after a vocal request he saw fit to oblige, and she saw fit to retribute, a single hand expertly undoing his belt and zipper, already hardened cock being pullled out and jerked. Yet again there are lost seconds between rushed preparations and her hand guiding his erection inside her, a fluid move of her hips settled him deep inside with a delighted moan, and a steady rhythm was prompty found by her hips. She had time to do whatever she pleased, his control being forsaken willingly. At least for the moment, as the firm squeeze on the sides of her hips reminded.
