by Whitney G.
“This is not an apartment.” I rolled my eyes, deciding to hold that discussion for later. “Do you really care about seeing your brother’s proposal in person?”
“No.” She scoffed. “I know right after, him and everyone else will spend the rest of the weekend talking down to me after they find out the truth.”
“Then don’t give it to them. Tell them something came up, but you’ve moved to Park Avenue, at The Madison.” I was officially out of my goddamn mind. “We’ll meet them at the airport, say hello, goodbye, and my doorman will let them inside while we’re flying for the weekend.”
She blinked.
“What, Gillian?”
She didn’t say anything. She leaned forward and pressed her lips against mine. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Where are we flying?”
“London.”
“Which airline are we flying with?” she asked.
“None. This will be a private flight.” I felt my cock stiffen in my pants. “Hurry up and get dressed before I fuck you for the rest of the morning and we never make it there.”
GATE B32
GILLIAN
New York (JFK)—> London (HTW)
HOURS LATER, I BLUSHED as Jake held me against his side after we made it through security. Both dressed in casual clothes, it felt different walking through the airport without the demands of work.
“Will you be flying the private plane alone?”
“No.” He looked down at me. “We’ll have a relief pilot aboard for midway through the flight and one flight attendant.”
“Why do we need both?”
“So you and me can make up properly over a served lunch and fuck in the clouds.”
“What?” My cheeks reddened again.
“You heard me.” He smirked, leading me toward Gate 24A, where my family’s flight from Boston was set to arrive. He kept me close as we waited in our chairs, shocking me by kissing me in public every few minutes.
It was twenty minutes past arrival time when the flight finally arrived at the gate, and as suspected, my family of first-class-only buyers were the first people off the plane.
“I’ll be right back,” I said to Jake, standing up and walking over to my mother.
“Well, hello, Gillian,” she said, pulling me close for a hug. “You look lovely this morning.”
“She does?” Amy chimed in immediately. “You live in the city of fashion and you’re wearing ripped jeans and T-shirt? I guess.”
“I was being nice, Amy,” my mother said. “I’m sure when we all go out for the proposal later, Gillian won’t be dressed like this. She’ll be dressed like the rest of us. Right, Gillian?”
Brian shook his head and shot me his usual, “I’m sorry, kid” look. My father hugged me and said he was ready to get some rest, and as I started to pull the keycard for the Madison out of my pocket, Claire began her usual line of questioning.
“Did you and Ben make up yet?” She gave me a fake look of sympathy. “Or did he realize that he was the real catch and you were the one who needed him more?”
“Ha!” Amy laughed. “You’re late. Ben has moved on already—I saw a picture of him on Facebook with, shocking! Someone who looks like she’s actually doing something with her life. She’s an author, I think.”
“Oh, how very wonderful,” my mother said. “Now, that’s impressive. Maybe you can call Ben and ask to be introduced to her, Gillian. Since you edit, maybe you can ask to edit her upcoming books? Maybe she can get you in the doors of a publishing house?”
I gritted my teeth, ready to finally tell them “Fuck off” for good, but I suddenly felt Jake slipping his arm around my waist—suddenly heard him whispering, “Don’t.”
“I think you should introduce me.” he whispered a little louder, planting a brief kiss on my forehead.
“Mom, Dad—” I paused. “The rest of you, this is Jake. Jake these are my parents, Amy, Mia, Claire, and Brian.”
Brian and my father immediately extended their arms for a handshake, but all of my sisters—even my mom, were standing still and staring at Jake, looking completely awestruck.
“This is your boyfriend?” Amy asked, blinking a few times as she shook his hand. “This, um, is Jake?”
“Yes.” Jake answered before I could, keeping his other hand firmly attached to my waist. “I was surprising Gillian with a flight today. I didn’t realize it coincided with your proposal—” He looked at Brian. “But we’ll do our best to be back in time.”
My sisters nodded in unison as he flashed his pearly whites. This was the first time I’d ever seen them completely speechless and I immediately committed the image to memory.
“The key, Gillian...” Jake said under his breath. “Give them your key.”
I pulled the keycard out of my back pocket and handed it to my mom. “I’ve moved to The Madison at Park Avenue. I sent you an email just in case you forget what to tell the cab driver. I’ve already told the doorman to expect you and he’ll help you with anything you may need while you’re here.”
“Thank you,” she said, her eyes still on Jake.
“Well, wait,” Brian said. “So, you are going to try and make it back by tonight for the proposal right, Gillian?”
“Absolutely.” I gave him my best fake smile, answered a few more questions from him and my father about the city, and then I told them goodbye.
They walked toward baggage claim and I stared in their direction, catching them throwing glances over their shoulders every now and then until they were out of sight.
“You ready?” Jake said, minutes later.
I nodded and he grabbed my hand, leading me toward the newest and smallest terminal in JFK—the one designated for private and charter planes.
He held up his pass to the only gate agent, and escorted me down the jet bridge and onboard one of the most luxurious aircrafts in the world, a Gulf-Stream 650.
“Dare I ask how you can afford this?” I muttered, more than sure he wasn’t going to give an answer.
“I don’t have to ‘afford’ it,” he said, smiling at me. “It’s a benefit of previously flying for Signature. They still have to honor certain things for anyone who reached senior status. Happy?”
“No. How do you afford your Park Avenue apartment?”
He smiled again, gesturing for me to sit in a leather passenger chair. He bent down and fastened my seatbelt. “That was given to me by someone special. No, not an ex-wife, and not a trust fund.”
“Your mother?”
“Yes.” He pushed stray hairs out of my face. “And before you ask, because I have a feeling you will, it’s the same answer for the watches.”
“So, technically, you yourself are not independently wealthy.”
“I wouldn’t necessarily say that.” A smirk crossed his lips. “Have we talked enough for six in the morning yet or do we need to discuss something else?”
“No, we have. For now.”
“Thank you.” He tugged at my seatbelt one last time. “I’ll see you when we level out.” He headed into the cockpit and the flight attendant set a tall cup of orange juice in front of me.
She handed me a four-paged breakfast menu, but I set it down and gripped the handles of the chair to prepare for takeoff.
Shutting my eyes, I listened as Jake spoke to the other pilot in the cockpit.
“Flaps—set, transponders—set, De-ice—on, Lights—clear...” his voice began to fade as the plane rolled backwards and away from the gate.
Not having to fake a smile for watching passengers, I kept my eyes closed as the plane rushed against the runway, as it hit the air full speed and leveled out against the sky.
Leaning back in my chair, I tapped my fingers against my jeans for several minutes—still waiting to hear verbal confirmation that we were at the proper altitude, but it seemed as if that announcement was never coming.
“You’re free to move about the cabin.” Jake’s hand suddenly caressed my c
heek, causing my eyes to flutter open. His lips curved into a smile. “Were you waiting on me to say that?”
“Yes, that’s what normally happens.”
“Only on commercial planes.” He unbuckled my seatbelt and took the seat across from me. “What are you thinking about?”
“How you can really be a perfect guy when you want to be. What are you thinking about?”
“Your mouth,” he said. “I’ve missed it.”
“The way it looks?”
“The way it wraps around my cock.” He leaned forward and grabbed my wrists, pulling me to him. “I need to ask you a couple of personal questions.”
“I’ll think about answering them.” I mocked him and he pressed a kiss against my neck.
“I know we’ve been apart for awhile, but how often do you think about fucking me?”
“What?” I swallowed.
“You heard me, Gillian,” he said, his voice low. “How often?”
“A lot...”
“Define a lot.”
“Every day.”
“Do the two of you need anything to eat right now?” The flight attendant stepped next to us. “Would you like more time to look at the breakfast menu?”
“No,” Jake said, standing. “We’ll eat later.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the back of the plane, where a small en-suite was tucked away. Shutting the door, he pulled me close and looked down at me.
“Every day?” he asked, picking up our conversation. “That’s as elaborate as you can get?”
I nodded, unsure of where he was going with this. Before I could ask him something, the plane slowly shook and veered to the right—pushing me back against the wall.
Looking unfazed by any sort of turbulence as always, Jake held me in place.
“When we met again in the mailroom months ago, you said you’d previously had much better sex with someone other than me. Bullshit aside, was that even halfway true, then?”
“You actually remember that?”
“Answer the question.”
“No, that’s not true.” I felt the plane shake again. “Why are you asking me this after all this time?”
“No reason.” He pulled my hair out of its side ponytail and tossed the elastic band to the floor. Staring at me, he grabbed the hem of my shirt and pulled it over my head.
“Take off your pants,” he said.
My hands went to my jeans and I unzipped them, watching him as he took off his shirt and stepped out of his pants, too.
He stood stark naked in front of me, his cock hard and alert, his body making mine tremble in anticipation of what I’d been missing. Sighing, he stepped close and looked down at the only thing I was still wearing. Without saying a word, he ripped them off—letting them fall in shreds to the floor.
“Give me your phone.”
Confused, I bent down and grabbed my jeans, pulling my phone out of my front pocket and handing it to him. “What are you doing?”
“Your phone has video storage, correct?” He didn’t give me a chance to answer, tapping the screen a few times. “Yes, it does...” He clasped my hand and pulled me over to the small couch in the corner.
I thought he wanted us to sit on it, but he kept me standing.
With my ass pressed against his cock, he held the phone in front of us—our bare bodies visible as the red “recording” light flashed on the screen. Before I could ask him what the hell he was doing, he pressed his mouth against my skin—slowly trailing his tongue from my right to my left shoulder.
Holding my phone steady, he wrapped his other hand around my waist and pulled me close enough so his cock was slightly pressed between my cheeks. His mouth continued pressing kisses against my flesh, his teeth softly biting me.
“Keep your eyes on the camera, Gillian...” he whispered. “Keep your eyes on us...”
My cheeks flushed bright red as I stared at myself onscreen, and my eyes went wide as saucers. His blue eyes met mine from behind—gleaming wickedly as his kisses became teasingly unbearable with each passing second.
He suddenly spun me around to face him, latching his mouth onto mine—owning our kiss before I could even get a chance to try. His full lips moved against mine—wet and rough, demanding that I follow his lead. And as he continued to record us, he whispered, “Relax, Gillian...You’re about to see exactly why I’m so addicted to fucking you.”
Without saying anything else, he bent me over the couch—my body bowed so far over that my hair grazed the floor. He slapped my ass with his palm repeatedly, making me gasp every time. Then he slowly slipped his hand between my thighs, sucking in a hard breath once he felt how wet my pussy was.
I watched him position my phone against the pillows, heard him unwrap a condom, and the next thing I felt was his rock-hard cock sliding into me. His fingers twisting in my hair and tugging me back as he filled me inch by inch.
I immediately cried out in a mix of pleasure and slight pain, still never fully accustomed to how deep he could fit inside of my pussy. How he owned my walls with his each and every thrust.
“Look at how I’m fucking you right now, Gillian...Look at how your pussy only responds to me,” he whispered harshly, but he didn’t give me a chance to move. He pulled me back by my hair, forcing me to look at myself onscreen.
I didn’t recognize the woman staring back at me.
Sweat was glistening against my skin, my lips parted with every moan, and as I gripped onto Jake’s legs for balance, I looked as if I completely out of control. As if I wanted him to keep fucking me more than anything. When he finally let go of my hair, he reached around my chest and palmed my breasts—roughly strumming my nipples.
Panting, I briefly shut my eyes, but he demanded that I open them.
“I want you to watch.” He punished my earlobe with his teeth, biting me more than once. “I want you to watch how fucked up we both are...How we need this...”
As the red light from the phone continued to blink, and the sound of our skin slapping against each other filled the room, Jake whispered, “This is why I can’t stay away from you, Gillian...This is exactly why...”
I bit my lip as he ground his hips against mine and moved my hand down to my clit. , I felt it swelling beneath my drenched fingertips, felt my pussy continuing to throb in bliss against Jake’s reckless rhythm.
Jake suddenly grabbed my hand and sucked my fingers into his mouth—groaning as he tasted my wetness. I felt the muscles in his legs beginning to tense as he began to slow pounding into me, and as he held me taut against him, I came with him for the very first time.
I collapsed onto the couch, his cock leaving me as I fell, and he remained standing, staring at me.
Shutting my eyes, I waited to catch my breath, and several minutes later, I realized he was still staring at me.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing.” He smiled and picked up my phone, turning off the red light before handing it to me. “Keep that for yourself.”
“You wanted to do that just so I could watch it later?”
He nodded.
“Why?”
“Because the next time we argue—if we argue again that is, you’ll have a visual reminder that you don’t ever need to waste your time looking for someone else.” He walked over to me and covered my mouth with his. Then he continued to make up for lost time by spreading my legs and sliding his cock inside of me once more, slowly fucking me again and again.
GATE B33
GILLIAN
London (HTW)
WE LANDED IN LONDON much later that evening, the familiar fog of the city welcoming us with open arms. Still bearing the scent of our sex, we checked into a hotel and showered, with Jake taking me shopping shortly after.
Completely sated from our sex in the air, I fell asleep locked tightly in his arms that night, my heart never feeling more full or happier. And as he kissed me to sleep, I hoped—truly hoped, that we could remain just like this for at least a month...
IN THE M
ORNING, I WOKE up completely sore and exhausted, with a full, assorted breakfast tray sitting to my left. A handwritten note from Jake was sitting right next to the strawberries.
Had to take a few phone calls.
I’ll be back.
—Jake
I DIDN’T LET MY MIND wander to thoughts of why he’d once again felt the need to leave the room to talk on the phone; I decided to let it go.
I slowly sat up and started eating the breakfast, scrolling through my text messages as syrup dribbled down my chin.
Mom: Your apartment is far nicer than I thought it would be. Thank you for letting us use it.
Mom: How are you able to afford this? (Tell me Gillian...*Are* you selling drugs?)
Amy: You missed the proposal of the year... It was AMAZING, Gillian!
Heather: Really wish you could’ve been there. How’s Jake?
Brian: She said yes! I’ll send you pictures later today. It was EPIC.
Meredith: Your brother’s proposal was whack as fuck. You owe me for forcing me to waste my Saturday on that. O_o. Pictures attached. [img.] [img.] [img.]
I LAUGHED AND CLICKED on the images, grateful that I’d escaped the “epic” celebration this weekend. As I was looking at the picture of Brian crying as he got down on one knee, Jake returned to the room.
“What’s funny?” he asked, setting his phone on the desk.
“My brother’s proposal.” I held up the phone. “He was crying before he even got down on one knee.”
He looked at the picture and raised his eyebrow. “Interesting.”
“If you ever want to propose to me in the future, please don’t cry in front of me. It’ll ruin the mood.”
He ignored that comment completely and pressed a strawberry against my lips. “Get dressed. We have only a day and a half left here, and I want to take you somewhere.”
I smiled and quickly slid out of bed, dressing under his watchful eyes in the new jeans and sweater he’d bought me last night.
