Parveen Aziza

"Don't worry, Parveen Aziza. I will place you in the hands of strong, kind women who will take care of you. They'll make sure that you get a fresh start."

"You gave Zainab Habiba three wonderful children. She told me how happy she was to have them, how much they reminded her of her short time with you. You were the only man she loved."

"Do you want me to treat you like I treated Zainab Habiba?" he asked.

There was a tremor in his voice, and I saw a hint of moisture in his expressive eyes. I knew he was crying inside.

I took a deep breath and said, "Yes."

"I'm not a nice man, Parveen Aziza. You don't know what you're asking."

"I think you're lying, Jack Grierson. I think you're running away from who you really are. You just risked your life for me, a girl you don't know, for a promise you made to a girl you claim to care nothing about."

"Don't tempt me, Parveen Aziza." His voice turned rough. "I'm not good at resisting temptation. Especially with someone who looks like you."

"So I do tempt you. You're not made of stone."

I glanced over my shoulder at the stewardess, and she retreated behind the curtain in the galley. Jack stood up, put a hand on my hair, and pushed the scarf down around my neck. His hand followed the scarf, and he grasped the back of my neck through the silk. I looked into his eyes, and he kissed me. His tongue was hard and powerful, it forced my lips apart and entered my mouth. He sought my tongue and engaged it forcefully till I let him have his way.

His other hand was on my pussy, and I felt his thumb on my clit, massaging gently. But gentleness rapidly turned to vigor and first one and then another finger entered my bare pussy. His tongue in my mouth, his fingers in my pussy, his thumb on my clit -- I felt my sexual juices forming and gradually inundating my vaginal walls before leaking out of me onto his hand. As he continued to work me, my breath grew short, and I was panting through my nose.

I managed to open my eyes briefly and saw the stewardess had opened the curtain and was watching us with rapt attention. I was too far gone to care now and kissed Jack back with abandon. My hips began to judder, and I felt something I had never felt before. I tried to break free of Jack's lips, but his tongue was insistent and would not cease its invasion of my mouth. I could not get enough air in through my nose and my body began to quiver in his arms. My thighs scissored tightly around his hand even as his fingers continued to thrust into me. I felt a clenching deep inside me and suddenly I was gyrating and rubbing my breasts on his hard chest. He finally withdrew his tongue from my mouth and his fingers from my pussy. I leaned on him and realized I was drenched with sweat.

"What ... what just happened to me?" I faltered.

"You came, sweetie," said the stewardess, who was now much closer, only a few steps away from us. "And you made me cum, too, just watching you."

"Sergei said you squealed when he had sex with you," said Jack.

"He hurt me," I said. I felt dizzy and I was slurring. "Sergei liked to hear me squeal with pain, it excited him. But I never felt this before, Jack, I swear."

"Bastard," Jack muttered.

He picked me up and put me in my seat. I felt boneless, completely loose, and did not even feel him laying the seat flat, turning it into a bed. He rucked up my skirt around my waist and felt the cool air on my bare pussy. Then his aggressive tongue was on my nether lips. I'd never been kissed down there before. He sucked on my vulva, his tongue spearing my clit with increasing urgency. I arched my back and rotated my hips under his rapid forceful ministrations.

"Omigod, omigod, omigod," I repeated, over and over.

My hands were on his head, my fingers in his hair, urging him on. I only knew I wanted him to repeat what he had made me feel -- a rising tide of tension to its explosive release.

His fingers joined his tongue and began to thrust into me again. I came much quicker this time, bucking and rearing.

He traced his tongue up over the swell of my belly, reached up, and untied the halter neck of my minidress. He pulled it down till it was just a narrow sash around my waist. Then he pulled down the cups of my green bra. My nipples were so hard that when he sucked on them and touched them with his teeth, I cried out.

His lips continued upward, along the line of my neck to find my temples and my ears. Then I felt something I knew -- his bulbous cockhead on my pussy lips. But it felt bigger, harder than Sergei's, and certainly a completely different organ than my husband's modest member. He pushed into me and now I heard him groan.

"You're tight, Parveen Aziza! I can feel every membrane of your pussy!"

Jack drove into me inch by inch. He was much bigger than Sergei and I cried out at the unfamiliar stretching of my pussy. Big as he was, his entry was completely unlike Sergei, who liked to ram his cock into me as hard as he could. Jack's penetration was so smooth, it took me a while to realize how deep he was. Jack's organ reached depths and stimulated tissues that had never been touched before.

Once he was fully embedded in me, he waited, and I felt his steady slow heartbeat from his cockhead deep inside me. For reasons I still cannot fathom, dates played in my mind, and I gasped, "I'm ovulating, Jack!"

He kissed my ear and whispered, "Do you want to carry my child?"

"Yes," I murmured. "Yes. Yes."

He began to fuck me slowly. Each time he was fully in me, his mount pressed insistently on my clit. It was impossible, but I felt like his cock was in my throat, and it grew increasingly hard to breathe.

As he increased his rhythm, he whispered in my ear, "Steady girl, steady, don't hyperventilate, just keep breathing in tempo with your hips. Let your hips tell you what to do."

My hips were rotating in an instinctive motion, screwing my pussy on his steel-hard manhood. His thrusts grew faster and harder. Soon he was pounding me into the flatbed seat, and I was trying to grip his sides with my thighs. I lost control of my hips, that rotated wildly out of control. My cries were so loud that they echoed in the plane cabin.

Then there were fingers on my lips, and I saw the stewardess was by us in the aisle on her knees. She had unbuttoned her blouse and pulled down her bra. She offered her small breasts to Jack, who suckled and bit them gently. There were tiny hearts tattooed around her nipples.

"Come on, girl! Come on, girl!" the stewardess encouraged me.

I began to buck and rear again and this time I felt the contractions begin deep within me around the depths of Jack's cockhead. They radiated outward gripping, squeezing, till even Jack gasped out, "God, Parveen Aziza, you're forcing me to cum!"

With that, he groaned again, much louder, and pounded me even harder. I felt the warmth of his discharge deep in me. He kept gushing in me, and I felt like my very womb was getting bloated with the volume of his semen.

Then he lay on me, inert, and I felt his full weight for the first time. All my clothes were completely soaked with my sweat and our outpourings. Somehow, he had managed to get naked. My head was spinning with the violence of my release. I idly traced the multitude of scars on his beautifully muscled body.

"I hope you've impregnated me, Jack," I whispered.

"I'm not sure I want to be impregnated," whispered the stewardess. "But I want you to fuck me too, Jack."

"With me, the two often go together."

"I'll take that risk," she said.

"How many hours till we land in Zurich?"

"Two and half hours."

"What about the pilots? It would be nice to keep this out of the flight log."

"If you can afford to charter this jet," she said. "I'm sure you can afford to shut their mouths."

"How do you know that?"

"Not my first rodeo."

* * *

Jack booked us a suite in the Zurich airport Radisson. He stripped me as soon as we entered and carried me into the shower where we had another stint of energetic sex. He helped me dry myself after I stumbled out, exhausted, sore, and lightheaded from my repeated orgasms. There were shopping bags on the table in the living room of the suite.

"I gave my staff your dress and your bra. I asked them to buy you some clothes," he said. "Looks like they've arrived."

"Right now, all I need is a nightie," I said.

"I'm sure there's one in there. My exec Farah Hojjat managed everything on the phone from New York -- she's very thorough."

Jack was right. There was a peach silk shortie nightgown with matching panties in one of the bags. I put them on and crawled into the king in the bedroom.

Jack joined me soon after, I snuggled up to him, and he held me in his powerful arms. I felt safer than I ever had in my life before.

The vigorous sex capped by fiery orgasms in addition to the tension of my escape meant that I was very woozy. I fell into a deep slumber almost immediately. Jack woke me once in the night and fucked me again, making me cry out my passion. I thought I was too sore to take him again -- but once he was in me, I wanted him.

The next thing I knew, it was morning. I was awakened by the smell of freshly brewed coffee. I was alone in bed. I got out of bed and saw the shopping bags were neatly lined up against a wall of the bedroom along with a roller suitcase. I went through the clothes and found they were all expensive designer labels. I dressed in sexy lingerie, a silk blouse, a tight skirt, and a jacket, and tied on a silk scarf.

Jack was at the table in the living room of the suite having breakfast. As I joined him, he asked, "Sleep well?"

"Better than ever," I said, truthfully. "I've never felt so safe as in your arms. Even in my father's house in the desert."

"An illusion," he said, dismissive. "I'm no better than Sergei."

"That's ridi --" I began, but the front door to the suite opened and cut me off.

There were two of them, a man and a woman. Both were tanned, lean, and fit. They wore leather jackets, black jeans, and ankle boots. I could see the bulges of guns under their jackets -- I had plenty of practice with Sergei's men.

"Thanks for coming, Paddy, Jo Ellen. I appreciate everything you do. Coffee?"

"Sounds good," said Paddy.

They sat down and poured out coffee. I could not read their expressions, or even tell if they were friendly.

"Good news," said the woman, Jo Ellen. "But also, much worse news. The worst."

"Well, give me the good news first," said Jack.

"Zainab Habiba's children are settled," said Jo Ellen. "They're only babies, but they've bonded well with Frau Feistmantal. They're too young to remember much, they'll forget their birth mother soon. They certainly won't remember you, Jack. They will have completely new identities, new lives. It's for the best."

"Yes," said Jack. His voice was heavy, and I could see he wasn't happy.

"This was never going to be a fairytale, Jack," she said. "Even if Zainab Habiba had lived."

"I know, I know. I'm just being stupid. It just never gets any easier."

"I understand," said Paddy. "It's hard to know that your children will never know you."

"None of them will," said Jack. "Well, give me the worst news."

"You remember Gretchen Lovewell?"

"Yes, of course."

"She's pregnant with your child."

"Yes, yes, Paddy, I know that. Farah Hojjat is taking care of it."

"They got to her, Jack," said Jo Ellen. "We don't know what they offered her, or threatened her with, but she's turned. She signed a statement accusing you of raping her. It states that the child she's carrying is the result of non-consensual sex."

"That's bullshit," said Jack. "It was consensual. She asked me to fuck her, every time. I may even have recordings of one or two of our sexual encounters."

"None of that matters, Jack," said Paddy. "Your father-in-law, Reginald St. James doesn't want to take this to trial. He's just using the statement to end your employment with the Foncault Group. He has fired you as of yesterday."

"He's circulated Gretchen Lovewell's signed statement to the corporate board of every Fortune 500 company," said Jo Ellen. "And he'll send it to any company that considers hiring you."

"I see," said Jack. He sipped his coffee, looking resigned. "He's terminated the Foncault Group's contract with your company, hasn't he, Paddy?"

"Yes. All the protection and oversight we've been doing for you -- personal security as well as black ops services -- ended as of yesterday."

"You're naked, Jack," said Jo Ellen.

"Fair enough," said Jack. "You're not running a charity, Paddy. I can't expect you to protect me for free."

Jo Ellen stood up suddenly and put her arms around Jack.

"This is just evil, Jack," she said, her face buried in his muscular shoulder. "Your father-in-law wants you dead, that's all there is to it."

"He's been trying for years," said Jack. He looked tired and older. "Sooner or later, something was going to click for him."

"I have to end your personal security detail," she said. "But I've talked to Paddy." She nodded toward him. "I'll still feed you intel -- for free."

"You don't have to do that," said Jack.

"I want to. Right now, Merkulov has shooters on your tail. They tracked your flight out of Moscow, they must know you're in Zurich."

"Europe their territory," said Jack. "I need to get back Stateside. And so does Parveen Aziza. But I can't use the Foncault jet that's parked at Zurich airport. St. James would have made sure of that."

"Hello," I said, happy to be finally included in the conversation. "I'm pleased to meet you."

"And you," said Jo Ellen. "We have a plane leaving for the States within the hour. A freighter, not luxurious. But we can get you both on it, bypassing regular immigration. Along with Zainab Habiba's casket."

"What's on the plane?" asked Jack.

"Sensitive material for a defense contractor," said Paddy. "Flight goes to the Columbus cargo terminal. Can you manage from there?"

"Farah will get us to New York," said Jack. "Amy will help."

"I like them," said Jo Ellen. "Of all your women, they're the two most dependable."

"You haven't met Ryder Fox," said Jack, smiling.

"I'll text you the flight details," she said. "You can forward it to them."

"Let me call Farah to explain what's going on. You guys can help Parveen Aziza work on this massive breakfast I ordered."

Jack went back into the bedroom with his phone. Paddy and Jo Ellen looked at me and I colored.

"You like Jack?" Jo Ellen asked.

"Like is a weak word," I said. "He risked his life for me. He's a good man."

"Yes," she replied. "He's also a dead man."

"What do you mean?"

"Jack has never been shy about making enemies," said Paddy. "We have the intel on all the threats on his life. Right now, in addition to Merkulov, his Arab enemies have men tracking him. Without our protection, he's got no chance."

"Alone against those Arab terrorists and Russian mafia hitmen," said Jo Ellen. "He'll be lucky to make it through to next week."

"How can you both be so cavalier?" I shouted. I didn't realize I had stood up. "You're talking about this like it's a tennis match! It's his life! The life of a man who has always helped others."

"We do care for him," said Paddy.

"I more than care for him, he's the father of my son," said Jo Ellen. Now her voice had a slight catch in it. "And we know he's selfless, a good man. We're just realists."