by Jess Bentley
Spread open and shameless, I use the lube that’s up by my pearl to ease the soreness of my lady parts. But I don’t have to worry. After a few seconds I am throbbing with want all over again. I guess I am just a glutton for punishment.
Yes, I am a glutton. I’m hungry. I want more. So much more. I start moving my hips, angling myself to get him deeper into my ass. So I can feel more, so I can change that elusive, slippery feeling. Find the bliss and ride it to the top.
The chaise rocks as he changes positions, angling himself over me. He balances his weight on one forearm that he places next to my head and hooks my right knee over his hip with the other hand.
Face-to-face, I continue to strum my clit as he lines himself up with my dark hole. I am slippery and open now, so ready for him. When he starts, it’s easy but so tight. He’s filling me more than I have ever been filled before. It almost feels wrong, but I need it so much.
He’s patient, he’s gentle, but I want it so bad. I start rocking against him, pulling him into me as deep as he can go. He grinds his teeth together, concentrating, sweating with the effort to hold back, but I am an animal come alive. I wriggle underneath him, impaling myself on his cock, caging him with my legs, staring deep into his eyes.
Immediately I begin to come. Like I’ve never come before, everything explodes all at once. I feel myself squirt, trenching us both with my secret juices. He hilts himself in my ass, and when he comes I feel every surge, every spurt, every throb of his thick cock.
We slump back on the towel, soaked with our sweat. I am blinded with bliss, transported by a vision of wordless delight. It goes on and on, surging through me, then retreating, then returning with shudders again and again.
Chapter 18
Jack
“Hey, bro, how about a date?”
Chance glances up at me from behind his desk.
“Wow, we really are getting to the anything-goes freak show, aren’t we?”
“Very funny, you jackass,” I sigh, flopping onto his sofa and crossing my feet on the arm.
“Just go ahead and make yourself comfortable over there, Jack,” he sniffs.
He’s always cranky when he’s working. It’s my favorite time to annoy him.
“I mean like, the three of us,” I continue, staring up at the ceiling. It has a really neat texture, a plaster finish that is almost silky. It cost a fortune for the contractor to import and have some guy from Maryland install it or something.
“The three of us,” he repeats distractedly.
“Yeah, don’t you want a little break? We haven’t been out on the town in I don’t know how long. Aren’t you feeling a little stir-crazy?”
“Nope,” he answers.
“Okay, well, what about Chelsea?” I continue. “Don’t you think she deserves a little… I don’t know… romance? Dinner? Bottle of wine?”
I hear him snap his laptop closed.
“What are you talking about? That sounds like a date?”
“Jesus, Chance, I don’t think you listen to me at all! Of course it’s a date. I said it was a date when I first walked in here. A date. We should do that.”
“What, like the three of us? Should we all hold hands or something?”
“Sure, why not?” I counter boldly. “What is the point of being rich as fuck if you’re not going to do whatever the fuck you want?”
He sighs for a long time. I can imagine his facial expression in my head. I don’t even need to look up at him.
“Jack, be reasonable. We can’t just walk around in public. People will see us. People know us here.”
“People barely notice us here,” I counter, sure that I am right. “And besides, who gives a fuck what they think?”
“Well, maybe Matthew and Ned will care? Maybe not today… When they get to school? Stuff like that doesn’t just disappear you know. People love to talk.”
Well, he has got me there. If there is any risk to the boys, I am not gonna push too hard.
“Okay… How about we go out of town? We could take the jet to the Finger Lakes. St. Paul? St. Louis? St. Petersburg? We have our choice of many impressive Saints.”
He doesn’t say anything. That’s a good sign.
“We could even go to Vegas,” I offer, though Vegas isn’t really my favorite thing at all.
Everybody in Vegas wants to take our picture. I think the casino hosts alert each other that we are there, as though we want to be recognized. Like they think they are doing us a favor or something. It’s not exactly a place you can go and just disappear.
“No… You hate Vegas,” he sighs thoughtfully. “What about Galena? Doesn’t Ricky have a house up there? We could play a little golf…”
“Oh! That’s nice. Antiques, wine, golf…”
“Shameless fucking, incognito…”
“Now you’re talking,” I smile.
He is smiling too, though I don’t even have to look at him. I can hear it in his voice.
“Think the Warners might take the boys for a weekend?” he continues, his tone shifting to official planning mode. “Don’t they owe us?”
“Oh, I totally forgot about that. Yeah, you’re right. Nice catch, Chance! A weekend alone, out on the town…”
“Like adults,” he adds. “She really has been kind of a trouper.”
I think about how right he is. Game for anything, practically a savage in the bedroom. Chelsea has met every expectation I had and blown my mind on more than one occasion. We have been everywhere in the house. I’ve had her in every position I could’ve imagined, and then some. She has stretched her body and mind to the breaking point.
Come to think of it, I could use a bit of a rest. Don’t want to sprain my dick.
“Okay, let me get ahold of the Warners. It is kind of short notice, but you want to try for this weekend?”
“That’s perfect. I’ll go see what Chelsea’s up to and help her pick out some golf apparel.”
“You think she plays golf?” he raises his eyebrows.
“I don’t care if she plays golf,” I grin. “I’m thinking about fucking her in the golf cart.”
His mouth pops open with an audible noise. “Yeah! Hot air balloon too, right?”
“You’re a genius!”
“Fuck yeah, I am. Let’s make this happen…”
“Let’s make what happen?” Chelsea asks, appearing in the doorway like a vision I just wished up.
I bow deeply with a flourish.
“Princess, would you kindly accompany us on a weekend excursion?”
“What the hell are you talking about?” she laughs. “Stand up, Jack! You look like a dork.”
I stand and swoop forward, gathering her in my arms for a sweet, brief kiss. Her lips are pliant and warm, always ready for me.
“We are talking about getting away,” I murmur softly. “Just the three of us… Chance is working it out. Want to go on a little trip?”
Her eyebrows go up, but then her expression clouds.
“Jack, you know we really can’t," she murmurs uncertainly.
“Of course we can.”
“What if people see us? Come on. It’s not worth the risk.”
I set her back down on the carpet and search her face. She is troubled by this, I can tell. She’s imagining some kind of scandal.
“Don’t you worry about it,” I scold her gently. “We will go someplace nobody knows us. We would just be three freaky people walking around with great taste and a lot of cash. That usually makes everybody a lot more friendly and less judgmental.”
“Oh, right! Just walk around? Like me and my boyfriend… and my other boyfriend? What if somebody sees us!”
“Wait… are we your boyfriends?”
She glares at me evilly, and I am not sure if that is a yes or a no. Note to self: circle back at a later date.
Instead I just shrug innocently and raise my palms. “As far as anybody else is concerned you’re just hanging out with your stepbrothers. Family trip. No big deal.”
I mark an imaginary X over my chest. “Chels, if we see anybody we know, I promise to hook up with them to throw them off the scent.”
“You swear?” she challenges me.
“Absolutely. For you, I will do this.”
“Fine,” she grumbles.
“Warners are all set!” Chance calls out from across the room. “I’m getting the jet gassed up now.”
Reaching out to brush her hair behind her ear, then chuck her gently on the chin, I look for signs that she is slightly more relaxed. Maybe, but not a lot.
“It’s going to be fine, Chelsea. It’s just a quick getaway. Don’t you want to go out? Like normal people?”
“Jack, we don’t do anything like normal people,” she rolls her eyes.
“Excellent point! So why start now?”
I reach down and slide my hand between her thighs, thumbing her slit open to feel how wet she is already.
“You know, I think you actually like this idea," I whisper, taking her earlobe between my teeth gently. “Or at least part of you does.”
Her breath quickens immediately and she arches into me. God, she is insatiable.
"Have you ever been in a hot air balloon?” I ask her as I slide my thumb along her petals.
“Um? Wh-What?” she stammers, breathless and distracted.
Sadly, I have to pull my fingers away from her juicy slit. If I go any further, we are not leaving this room for an hour.
“Oh, I have lots of surprises for us,” I smile, edging away, wishing I didn’t have to. “Why don’t you go pack? Let us do this for you. Let us treat you to something nice, okay, Chelsea?”
She takes a deep breath, then breaks into a brilliant, grateful smile.
“You promise you’ll bang anybody who recognizes us, no matter how old or unappealing?”
“I already swore a blood oath, babe. Chance will too. Right, Chance?”
Chance looks up from his cell phone, alarmed. “What’s that?”
“He promises too.”
She rolls her eyes, but she is getting excited, I can tell. Finally she sighs. “You know what, Jack, I think I will!”
I am comfortable in the knowledge that Chance makes excellent to-do lists. He is going to have our schedule jam-packed for the rest of the weekend. I would offer to help, but… Well, I don’t have to. It would just seem like I was interfering, anyway. What a lovable nerd.
It’s only three days, but we are packing for five people. It seems to take forever. It reminds me of trying to get everything together for trips when we were kids. How the time just didn’t seem to want to pass. But then, suddenly, we’re all standing in front of the front door waiting for the driver to pull around.
The kids are adorable, dressed in matching outfits, holding matching, tiny suitcases in their chubby little hands. They look like tiny men. Cracks me up every time.
Somehow Chance negotiated for the Warners to pick the boys up, and they come around first so that we get a chance to get goodbye kisses and hugs, and thank the Warners for agreeing on such short notice. Chelsea hands them a stack of notes, explaining that it contains emergency numbers, general food requirements, and a quick rundown of their developmental benchmarks for reference. Wow. That just reminds me why I love…
Why I think she is tops.
Finally we’re all in the back seat on our way to the small airfield where we keep the jet. Chance catches my eye over the top of Chelsea’s head and gives me a knowing wink. We have a lot of treats in store for her. We haven’t been able to get out, so there is still a lot of rich-kid fun time to be had.
She sighs and snuggles between us in the back seat, a constant grin on her lips. We aren’t too far, and the small airfield appears almost as soon as we emerge from the dense forest that surrounds the lake. The driver circles to the front of our hangar, where the pilot stands in front of the jet, his arms crossed, his official-looking hat perched on top of his head.
“Wait, are you serious? Is this it?” she asks in awe.
“This is the place,” Chance announces with a smirk of satisfaction in his voice.
She looks at me seriously, as if to get confirmation.
“We just drive right up? To the actual airplane? Is this an airplane garage?”
I catch her chin and pull her close, kissing her deeply before answering.
“We call it a hangar,” I smile back. “Now, try to be cool, okay? I don’t want to have to explain to the pilot that you are adopted or something.”
“Wait, what?” she asks hurriedly as I leave the car, smug and delighted.
The driver hands the luggage to the pilot, who stows it in the narrow belly of the plane. Chelsea can barely keep her mouth closed; it gapes as she stares at the Jetstream.
“Hello, sir,” she chirps at the pilot as she climbs the few short stairs to the cabin.
“Good afternoon, miss,” the flight attendant greets her.
Chelsea stops in her tracks, twisting back to crouch down and stare at me as I stand on the stairs behind her. I got a little close, because I was checking out her ass, so I have to lean back.
“You have a flight attendant!” she stage whispers.
“She came with the plane,” I shrug nonchalantly.
“Holy shit!” she hisses before turning back around.
“Hi, Lorraine,” I smile, catching her eye.
She hands me a bottle of champagne and takes my jacket. She’s professional and friendly, without even a trace of jealousy or anything.
“Hi, guys,” she answers. “I was surprised to get your call today. This is a pretty short trip for you, isn’t it?”
Chance shuffles in behind me, dipping his head even though the ceiling really is tall enough for either of us. He smiles fondly at her but doesn’t flirt, not even a little bit.
“Yeah… About twenty minutes? But, you know… Doesn’t make any sense to just leave it here in the hangar. Thanks for coming out on such short notice.”
“Plus, we wanted to show off,” I admit, since I know she has busted us anyway.
She gives me a wink of understanding. “I am happy to help.”
Chelsea is all smiles, childlike and eager, sitting in one of the captains’ chairs with her cheeks rosy, her eyes gleaming. That’s very much exactly the expression I was hoping for. That makes the whole thing worth it. Not exactly cost-efficient, if you know what I mean. But worth it, nonetheless.
Chapter 19
Chelsea
This shit is bananas.
The guys had mentioned that they had their own jets, but I figured that was going to be something huge. Something you would see at O’Hare airport maybe. Instead, it’s totally adorable. Obviously it costs a ridiculous amount of money and it lives in its own airplane house in this strange kind of airport in the middle of nowhere field with other airplane houses, but it’s ridiculous. Like having your own personal hovercraft. Like the Jetsons.
But I don’t want to seem too amazed. Yet, I can’t keep this stupid smile off my face either. We were raised with money, but we weren’t extravagant. When our parents died, that was the end of it. And in the back of my mind, I just decided to get over it. I let it go. I had just enough money to finish school, and that was going to be it, and I knew it.
But the guys have done so well in tech that they have a jet? They have a driver… They have a bunch of cars and that gorgeous house… Holy shit. This is crazy.
They know it, too—they are showing off. I can tell. They both have these shit-eating grins on their faces as they parade me around the tarmac, and we all climb up into the fucking jet.
Okay, I guess I am pretty impressed.
The stewardess or flight attendant or waitress or whatever she is called is super nice, and I wonder about the cabin, touching everything with my fingertips as I admire it. The leather is super thick on the bench and captain
s’ chairs. Even the lighting is posh. The whole thing is spotlessly clean, not grody and fingerprint-y like a public transportation jet, covered in the grime of thousands of toddlers who defiled the upholstery before you even got there.
No. This is absolutely swanky.
“Sit wherever you want, but you still have to buckle up for takeoff, okay?” Chance winks at me as he settles on the long bench, draping his arms along the back and crossing his ankle over his knee nonchalantly.
Jack approaches with a bottle of champagne and three champagne flutes. He pops the cork and it ricochets off the cream-colored paneling toward the back of the plane. The flutes fit into cupholders that seem especially made for them. I bet they totally were.
“To us!” Jack toasts, raising his glass high in the air. I take my flute, giggling as the bubbles settle back to the surface of the liquid, sipping carefully as the mist tickles my nose. It’s also unreal. I’m not sure if I should laugh or take notes. If it is a dream, I don’t want to forget anything when I wake up.
The door closes with a bang and I feel the jet start to move. My fingers fumble for the seatbelts on the captain’s chair and clasp it over my hips.
“You’re not afraid of flying, are you?” Jack asks me. “Oh wait… you totally are, aren’t you?”
I swallow. “No, I’m okay.”
“Wait… I remember now. You’re totally afraid of flying. Didn’t you throw up the entire way to Los Angeles?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, I remember!” Jack continues, cluelessly charging forward. “You locked herself in the bathroom as soon as we took off from Chicago, and you didn’t come out forever. They were going to break down the door! You almost got us banned for life!”
“I had Taco Bell,” I explain. “And besides, that was a really long time ago. Let’s just drop it.”
“Aw, you don’t have to be embarrassed,” Chance shakes his head supportively. “It’s not a big deal. Lots of people are afraid to fly. I assure you this jet is incredibly safe. Totally safe. The pilot just graduated last week.”
I catch my breath. “What? Last week?”
