8
Melissa couldn’t stop smiling as she flew the Twin Otter toward Aruba, threading her way between Cuba and Haiti. Flying over the bright blue seas to piracy we go, way-hay. She knew she was mixing Gilbert and Sullivan operatic metaphors, but her body was humming with music.
As brief as their time had been, Melissa couldn’t recall a more incredible bout of s*x. Maybe it was because of the long dry spell, but somehow she didn’t think so. She glanced back over her shoulder into the cabin and couldn’t help smiling at the scene.
No, it wasn’t only the long gap. Her gorgeous warrior still lay on the blankets in the center of the cargo bay, sprawled naked and so exhausted that the jouncing takeoff hadn’t woken him. If only she could fly such cargo every time.
If she’d had a chance, she might
