Jonathan Taylor - Meyer-Hofmann AG

“I’m not going anywhere, you know.”

“You may not be, but if I don’t give this a bit of space, I could do myself an injury.”

“Ah, self-control issues again, Mr Jarvis?”

“Sexy bod, Mrs Jarvis?”

She moved slowly towards him, helping him out of his fitted shirt. He too had a body he could be proud of—a daily exercise regime had helped to keep the middle-aged spread at bay. His body was toned without being ripped. His six pack had a healthy look to it, and his skin was soft to the touch, with hardly a blemish. They held one another for a second, and she breathed him in. He had a smell all his own; even when he didn’t shower, he smelt great.

It’s unfair, she complained to herself.

“God, you smell good,” she said aloud.

“So do you.”

Putting his arms around her, he pushed his fingers into her knickers, cupping her bum in his hands. It was warm, round, and he loved the feel. As he lifted her up, she wrapped her legs around his waist, and they shared a long kiss. Their tongues pushed together, tasting, touching. He lowered her onto the bed, keeping her crotch pressed firmly against his own, tilting her forwards so that her shoulders sank deep into the thick white duvet. They parted, and he ran his hands up her body to cup her breasts. Her olive skin contrasted with the white duvet and sheets, as he knelt between her legs and kissed her. He could taste her through her cotton panties, and it made him hungry for more. Pulling the material to the side, he drove his tongue deep inside her. She sucked in air and let out a long, appreciative moan as he made his way to her clitoris. Kissing, licking, and pulling her lips, pressing her buttons, he played her like a musical instrument until she thought she would burst. Her moans and sighs ebbed and flowed as he worked, spurring him on. Pulling his hands from her breasts, he again took her bottom and lifted her up to his mouth. She pressed herself into his face and felt the orgasm blast through her. Wave after wave of bliss flooded her.

My God, where did he learn to do that? she thought.

Still breathing hard, she pulled him up onto the bed, and they kissed again. She could taste herself, and it made her want him. Rolling him over, she pulled down his pants, releasing his penis to the night air. He was hot and hard. Kneeling on the bed, she took him in her mouth, running her lips over his length. Pushing him deep into her mouth, pulling and sucking at the same time, she began to taste him. She could feel his hand massaging her arse, then brushing over her wet groin. His fingers caressed and probed her, getting her started again. His other hand reached down to her breasts, and her thoughts turned back to his shaft. Letting her tongue run around his bell end, she sucked and kissed it, masturbating him with her right hand. Watching her work, he could hardly believe his luck,

This beautiful creature is sucking my cock.

She picked up the pace, and his body replied. He could feel it building, and he gave her warning.

“I’m coming, I’m coming.”

With that, the semen burst from his member. Her timing, as usual, was perfect; she allowed it to pass her face with inches to spare, arcing through the air and onto his stomach. He jerked four more times but remained silent. He rarely made a sound during their lovemaking. It had bothered her to begin with, but he assured her it had nothing to do with the pleasure he was having. She, on the other hand, was a screamer, and his fingers were now pushing deep into her, one then two, maybe three, stretching her, but she was so wet she didn’t care. Pressing down onto his hand, helping his fingers deeper and deeper into her, she panted and cried out with every thrust. She reached her second climax in a crescendo of sexual noise, before falling back on top of him, spent and fulfilled. She remained there a while, enjoying his warmth, his smell, letting his juices bond them together.

I feel safe with this man. He is my life. The thought completed the evening. All she had ever wanted was to be loved and cared for, and Michael fulfilled that need.

“We better get some sleep, Michael, big day tomorrow.”

She lifted off him, smiled, kissed him lightly, and headed off into the bathroom. Michael lay still on the bed, relaxed, his mind fighting away the urge to sleep. He stared at the ceiling, wondering.

Could life could get any better than this? Somehow, he doubted it.

The doorbell rang at exactly 9:00 am. Michael answered the door to the suited chauffeur. His engraved name badge revealed that Heinz would be their driver today.

“Can I get those?” the chauffeur asked in a thick German accent, pointing at the luggage in the hallway.

“Sure, thanks.”

The chauffeur was built more like an Olympic weightlifter than a taxi driver, so much so that his suit looked rather uncomfortable, restricting the circulation in his arms and thighs. He picked up the cases as if they weighed nothing and made his way back to the car.

“Are you ready?” Michael called into the kitchen.

They had skipped breakfast after their exertions from the night before in favour of a few more minutes’ sleep, and Lisa was making them some sandwiches.

“Just a sec, honey.”

She stuffed the foil-wrapped sandwiches into her large Gucci tote handbag. She was starving and couldn’t wait to eat, but they had both ignored the alarm, and her makeup had taken priority over food. The pair of them looked rather out of place leaving the small-terraced house in Guiseley. He was wearing a new dark blue wool suit from Hugo Boss with a light blue silk tie—he hoped his new bosses would appreciate the German connection. She had raided Harvey Nichols and splashed out on a Diane von Furstenberg lace dress. It hugged her figure, emphasising her breasts and bottom. She hoped it was not too much, but Michael had assured her she looked amazing,

The Germans would be in awe of his English rose, he had said.

The car rounded off the package. Heinz was holding the door open to a black Mercedes Benz S 600 Pullman Guard, an armoured limousine, more commonly used by politicians and celebrities. They both looked and felt like a million dollars, and if everything went to plan, that’s exactly what they would be worth in a few short years. As they slid into the back seat of the limousine, they were enveloped in the rich aroma of fresh coffee. A percolator sat on the middle console opposite their seat, bubbling the last drops of Columbian blend into a glass jug. Two china tea cups, a small jug of cream, and a bowl of sugar lumps sat next to the machine.

“Ooh, how lovely, should I be mother?”

She poured them both a cup as the car moved gracefully into the morning traffic. Both coffee and sandwiches were despatched post-haste, and the pair sat back to enjoy what would be a short ride to Leeds Bradford Airport. The limo surrounded them in leather and polished walnut panels, and Lisa made herself busy investigating the cupboards and minibar. A small compartment in the middle console held crystal tumblers and a bottle of fifty-five-year-old Glenfiddich whisky. The minibar overflowed with more expensive delicacies, including Beluga caviar and Belgian chocolates.

“I am going to enjoy doing Meyer-Hofmann’s books. It looks like they run up some serious expenses.” Lisa beamed at Michael.

Michael was watching the terminal building pass them on the right-hand side, wondering whether their German chauffeur had maybe missed a turn. It soon became obvious he had not, as the car slowed and made a turn towards a side gate to the airport. They were waved past the barrier by an armed security guard, and Lisa replaced their redundant passports into her handbag, rolling her eyes at Michael. A small road ran around the boundaries of the airport, and the limousine accelerated towards a small hangar on the outskirts of the facility. In front of the hangar was their ride, a Gulfstream G650, the gold standard in business aviation. The plane could cover over 7,000 nautical miles at a cruising speed of 0.85 Mach, and its interior was of a similar standard to the Mercedes Benz. Four large white leather seats were positioned around a smoked glass table. An ice bucket with a vintage bottle of Dom Pérignon Champagne waited for them, together with a silver bowl of fresh strawberries on the table. A beautiful platinum blonde stewardess greeted them warmly and served the bubbly as they took their seats.