Adult Industry System-Chapter 120

Chapter 120: Chapter 120
​I spun her around in one fluid motion, her face pressing into the stainless steel prep station. I hooked my fingers into the waistband of her navy pencil skirt and hiked it up past her hips, revealing a pair of sheer black stockings held up by delicate lace garters. Her ass was small, tight, and practically glowing in the dim galley lights.
​
SLAP.
​I brought my hand down hard across her right cheek, the sound echoing sharply over the hum of the jet. She let out a muffled whimper of pure ecstasy, her fingers gripping the edge of the counter until her knuckles turned white.
​"Answer me, fan girl," I whispered, leaning down so my breath hitched in her ear while my cock strained against the back of her thighs. "Do you want this inside your tight little pussy? Or should I claim that asshole you’ve been sitting on all flight?"
​She arched her back, her heels clicking against the floor as she tried to push herself back against my heat. "The... the pussy," she sobbed out, her voice a wreck. "Please, Druski. I want to feel you stretch me open just like in the films. I want you to ruin me before we land!"
​I reached down, my hand slick with her anticipation, and guided my iron-hard length to her entrance. She was soaking, her body already primed for the invasion.
I drove in with a single, heavy thrust that made the coffee car rattle. I kept my hand over her mouth to muffle the screams as I began a brutal, high-altitude rhythm.
I locked her wrists behind her back, pulling them upward to force her chest flush against the cold metal of the galley wall. The leverage was perfect. With every heavy, rhythmic lunge, I felt my cock stretching her to her absolute limit, the velvet head of my length battering against her cervix.
​"Oh god, Druski... you’re... you’re hitting it!" she sobbed, her knees buckling as I drove home.
​The contrast was intense—the clinical, sterile smell of the airplane galley mixed with the raw, primal scent of her arousal. I didn’t hold back. I increased the pace until the only thing audible over the jet engines was the frantic
slap-slap-slap
of my pelvis against her trembling thighs.
​I was bottoming out with every stroke, my thick girth claiming every inch of her. I could feel her internal muscles spasming, her tight walls desperately trying to accommodate my cock. She was in a total trance, a mile-high fever dream where she wasn’t a flight attendant anymore—she was just another subject in the King’s court.
​"You’re going to remember this every time you put on this uniform, aren’t you, Miranda?" I hissed, biting the nape of her neck.
​"Yes! Yes! Every time!" she cried out, her voice muffled by the metal she was pressed against.
​I felt the familiar, volcanic heat rising in my gut. I wasn’t going to pull out. I wanted her to feel the weight of the legend. With a final, devastating thrust that buried me deeper than she thought possible, I let out a low groan and emptied everything into her.
​Miranda’s body went rigid. She let out a silent scream, her head tossing back as she hit a climax so violent her toes curled inside her shoes. She slumped forward, her weight supported only by my body as I held her there, pulsing inside her until the very last drop was delivered.
​I slowly withdrew, the sound of her slick walls snapping shut echoing in the small space. I tucked myself back in, zipping up with a calm, predatory cool.
​Miranda was a mess. Her uniform was disheveled, her hair was coming loose from its tight bun, and her eyes were glazed with a mix of shock and adoration. She leaned against the counter, her breath coming in ragged gasps.
​"Clean yourself up, Miranda," I said, patting her cheek lightly. "We’re descending soon. I’d hate for the pilot to see his favorite attendant looking so... used."
​I turned and walked back through the blue curtains, leaving her trembling in the galley.
I slid back into the cramped economy seat, the warmth of the galley session still radiating off my skin. I moved carefully, trying to slip under the shared blanket without waking her, but the moment my thigh brushed hers, Sasha’s eyes fluttered open. She didn’t look groggy; she looked like a cat that had been watching a mouse hole the entire time.
​A slow, knowing smirk spread across her face. "Did you have a great time, Druski?" she whispered, her voice honeyed and sharp.
​I froze for a heartbeat, caught off guard by the clarity in her eyes. "I thought you were dead to the world," I muttered, settling back into the seat.
​Sasha chuckled, a low vibration that I felt against my arm. She leaned in closer, her breath smelling of the champagne we’d shared earlier. "I’m a light sleeper when my prize asset disappears toward the back of the plane with a starstruck flight attendant. So, tell me... was Miranda satisfied?"
​I looked at her, realizing there were no secrets with Sasha. She wasn’t jealous; she was fascinated by the power I exerted. I leaned my head back against the headrest, staring at the dim cabin lights.
​"Let’s just say she won’t forget me," I said, a predatory grin tugging at the corners of my mouth. "She’ll be thinking about that ’autograph’ every time she hits thirty thousand feet for the rest of her career."
​Sasha’s hand slid under the blanket, her nails lightly raking over my thigh. "Good. I like it when you’re generous with the fans. It keeps your ego right where I need it—massive."
​The plane’s engines changed pitch, a deep roar as the pilot began the final descent into the sparkling grid of Los Angeles. Below us, the City of Angels stretched out like a carpet of diamonds.
​"Get ready, Druski," Sasha said, her tone shifting to something more ambitious as she sat up and smoothed her hair. "The airport is just the beginning. In this town, everyone wants a piece of the King. We have to make sure they pay a premium for it."