Adult Industry System-Chapter 118

Chapter 118: Chapter 118
The chaos of New York felt miles away as I stepped into the terminal. After the intensity of the last forty-eight hours—the standoff with Volkov and the marathon session with Monet—I needed more than just a break; I needed a total reset. And if Sasha was the one doing the resetting, I knew it would be anything but relaxing.
​I spotted her near the private lounge, and even in a crowded airport, she was an absolute lightning rod for attention.
​"Hey, Druski," she purred, closing the distance between us instantly. She didn’t just greet me; she claimed me, her arms sliding around my neck as she pressed her lips against mine. The kiss lingered, a deep, honey-sweet promise of what the next few days held.
​She was dressed for the California heat she was bringing with her. She wore a skin-tight, ribbed white tank top that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. She was clearly braless, the thin fabric struggling to contain the weight of her breasts. In the cool air of the terminal, her nipples were hard, prominent points that poked sharply against the white material, drawing every eye in the vicinity. She paired it with tiny, frayed denim cut-offs that showed off miles of tanned, toned legs and designer heels that made her stride look like a catwalk.
​"My favorite star... how are you?" I rasped, pulling back just enough to breathe in her scent—vanilla and expensive sunblock.
​"More than excited now that you’re here," she said, her eyes sparkling with a mix of mischief and genuine relief. "Thank you for actually deciding to come. I wasn’t sure if your ’other commitments’ would let you go."
​"I wasn’t gonna miss a free vacation," I chuckled, my gaze dropping shamelessly to the way her shorts hugged her curves. I leaned in close to her ear, lowering my voice so only she could hear. "And I definitely wasn’t gonna miss out on that world-class ass."
​Sasha let out a melodic, bubbly giggle, swatting my arm playfully even as she leaned her weight into me. "Always the charmer, Hart. Save that energy for the flight."
​She hooked her arm through mine, her breast brushing against my bicep with every step. "Come on, the jet is prepped and the champagne is already on ice. Let’s get out of this city."
​As we walked toward the tarmac, I felt the eyes of every man in the terminal on the back of my head. I was leaving the drama of Big Mom and the Russian underworld behind for a while, trading the concrete jungle for the hills of Hollywood.
Despite the money flowing through my accounts, Sasha had insisted on booking economy for this leg—something about "staying grounded" or maybe just the thrill of being recognized in the wild. We squeezed into our seats, my knees brushing the seat in front, but with Sasha pressed against my side, I wasn’t complaining.
​The thin fabric of her white tank top was practically a second skin, and as the cabin pressure shifted, her hard nipples were impossible to ignore. Every guy in rows 10 through 15 was doing a double-take.
​Halfway through the flight, the snack trolley rattled down the aisle. The flight attendant, a sharp-featured woman in a tight navy uniform, stopped abruptly at our row. She froze, her hand hovering over a ginger ale.
​"Oh my gosh..." she breathed, her eyes widening as she looked from me to Sasha and back again.
​We both looked up, surprised by the sudden intensity. "Everything alright?" I asked.
​She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, a faint blush creeping up her neck. "I... I recognize you two. I know exactly who you are."
​I raised an eyebrow, playing it cool. "Yeah? From where? You a fan of indie cinema?"
​Sasha let out a throaty, wicked little laugh, nudging me with her shoulder. "Come on, Druski. Look at her face. She hasn’t been watching us at the multiplex."
​The attendant’s blush deepened. "She’s right," she stammered, looking around to make sure no other passengers were listening. "I... I’ve seen your videos. On the site. The one you did in the penthouse? I’ve watched it... more than once."
​She turned her gaze to me, her eyes lingering on my face with a look that was definitely not professional. "You’re even more handsome in person, Mr. Hart. Honestly, your performance... it’s incredible. You’re a natural."
​I felt a surge of pure, raw ego. It was one thing to see the view counts climbing into the millions on a dashboard; it was another to have a professional woman at thirty thousand feet tell you she’s been fantasizing about you while you’re sitting in Row 12.
​"Glad you enjoyed the show," I said, giving her a slow, predatory wink. "Maybe I should give you an autograph?"
​"I’d prefer a photo," she whispered, "but I’m on the clock. But... if you need anything else during the flight? Extra blankets? A private ’walk’ to the galley? Just ring the bell."
​She lingered for a second longer than necessary before moving the trolley along, her hips swaying a little extra as she walked away.
​Sasha leaned into my ear, her breath hot. "See that? You’re becoming a household name, Druski. Or at least, a bedroom name. Does the fame make you feel... powerful?"
The cabin lights dimmed to a low, rhythmic blue as the pilot leveled us out at cruising altitude. Around us, the muffled hum of the engines acted like white noise, lulling the rest of the passengers into a deep sleep. The cabin was a sea of shadows and tilted heads, blissfully unaware of the shift in the atmosphere in our row.
​Sasha didn’t say a word. She just looked at me, her eyes reflecting the dim light with a predatory glint. She reached up and pulled a thick, oversized travel blanket from the overhead bin, spreading it carefully over our laps. It created a dark, private tent that draped from her waist to mine, shielding us from the occasional pass of a crew member.
​Then, she vanished.
​I felt the shift in the seat next to me as she slid down, her head disappearing beneath the fabric. The moment her warm breath hit the skin of my inner thigh, my heart began to thud a heavy, syncopated rhythm against my ribs. I leaned my head back against the headrest, closing my eyes, my hands gripping the armrests as I felt her nimble fingers undoing my belt with practiced silence.
​Then, I felt it—the wet, velvet heat of her mouth sliding over me.