Sky's the Limit

by Elle Aycart

  Logan leaned in and touched his lips to hers. “Is it edible?”

  “What? Me?”

  “I know you’re edible. I’m referring to the pink goo.”

  She nodded.

  “Good,” he said and kissed her, getting pink goo all over himself and not giving a flying flip.

  A deep growl by his ear broke the spell. Sitting on the floor really gave the beast the upper paw, so to speak. Arnie was hovering over him. “Can you call off your bodyguard before he rips my throat out?”

  She waved as if Cerberus were a sweet little puppy and not a killer with huge teeth. “Arnie, let the nice man kiss me. Or I’ll go get the blow-dryer.”

  Arnie huffed and backed down. Not much though.

  “So, where were we?” she asked, turning back to Logan. “Ah, yes, you were hungry and going to lick my face.”

  “Can I choose what to lick? I got condoms.”

  She chuckled softly. “Is that your subtle way of telling me you want to have sex?”

  “As opposed to stripping you bare and shoving my cock deep inside you, which is what I want to do? Yeah, that was my subtle way.”

  “Umm, I don’t know,” she said against his lips. “Are you able to breathe through your nose while your mouth is otherwise occupied?”

  He proceeded to demonstrate, kissing her thoroughly, his hard-on pressing against her. “Convinced?”

  “Totally.” She wiped mascara from his beard. “I made dinner.”

  He knew. He’d seen the table and candles on his way to the bathroom. “Can it wait?” he asked, trailing kisses along her throat. Because whatever it was, he’d rather eat her.

  She pulled her wet T-shirt over her shoulders. “Most definitely.”

  Man. Her nipples were hard and puckered. Begging for his mouth. “Camera’s off, right?”

  Her laugh was husky. “Yep.”

  Good. “We need to do something about Rottenmeier.” Arnie wasn’t exactly breathing down Logan’s neck, but he was too damn close. The second Sky let out a sound the dog didn’t like, Logan was toast.

  “Don’t worry. Arnie always gets a nice treat after his bath. He’ll be entertained for a while. Half an hour, give or take. So chop-chop.”

  He kissed her. “Aren’t we bossy.”

  “Half an hour isn’t much time. Unless you’re one of those five-minute speedsters, in which case I might reconsider—”

  “Oh, no, no. We are not reconsidering shit,” he said, holding her by her ass and standing up. “Where’s the doggie treat?”

  “It’s in the bag by the sink,” she said, trying to pull off his wet shirt.

  “Wrap your legs around me.” He reached over his shoulder blades and whipped his shirt off while she rummaged in the bag and produced a bone stick wrapped in what looked like dried chicken meat.

  “Here, Arnie,” she said, throwing it to the floor.

  Cerberus took it and followed them into the hallway. “Sorry, buddy, you stay outside,” Logan said as they made it to his bedroom and closed the door on the dog.

  “That will piss him off. Once he’s finished his treat, he’ll start scratching and howling. Given time, he’ll figure out how to open the door.”

  Logan set her on the bed. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” He leaned over her and kissed her breasts while she busied herself unbuttoning his jeans.

  “You’re far too bossy,” he said, grabbing her hands and pulling them over her head. Then he reached for his nightstand and got handcuffs from the drawer. Before she could react, he’d fastened one on her wrist.

  “Hey,” she complained.

  “I love strong, independent women, but in bed, I’m in charge.” He drew the other cuff through the slats in the headboard and fastened it to her other wrist.

  She pinned him with her stare. “Sorry to break it to you, but you are not in charge. Arnie is. In twenty-eight minutes, he’s going to chew through your door. Much, much faster if I scream.” She tried to look offended, but the way she was squirming and pressing her legs together told him she was turned on.

  “I’ll take my chances,” he said with a shrug, chucking his jeans to the floor.

  “I knew you were kinky. Bearded men always are.”

  “Haven’t been with any bearded men, so I can’t compare. But yeah, I am kinky. Now, let’s get these panties off you so I can see the pussy I’ve been fantasizing about for the last week.”

  He yanked the cloth down, revealing a cutely trimmed muff of black ringlets. She spread open. “Full-bush Brazilian is the name. Hair on the mound, lips waxed. It’s very much in fashion now. Plus I thought I was going to France. I wanted to blend in.”

  He chuckled softly, unable to rip his gaze from her sweet pussy. “If you wanted to blend in, you should have studied French, like any normal person would.”

  She ignored his jab. “No vajazzles. No pussy piercings. No landing strip. Disappointed?”

  “Nope. Not disappointed. Although, kinky freak that I am, I prefer my women waxed.” Holding her by her inner thighs, he took a leisurely lick from her opening to her clit.

  She sucked in a breath, her body tensing at the intimate caress, but tried to cover it by clicking her tongue and wrestling back control of the conversation. “And I prefer my men shaved. I’ll let you do mine if you let me do yours.”

  “I don’t think so, babe. Besides, I have you tied to my bed. I don’t need to strike a bargain.”

  He was kidding, of course. He would never do anything she didn’t agree to, but it was fun to poke her.

  She didn’t cower. Not even for a second. “Do you want to see how fast I can get Arnie to break down the door and eat you alive?” Her smile was so sweetly deceptive, it was captivating.

  He rimmed her slit with the tip of his fingers, relishing her squirms of pleasure. She didn’t want to give in to him, he could tell, but she couldn’t hide how her body reacted. How her pussy creamed at his touch. “No need. I’ll take your word for it.”

  “So you know, full-bush Brazilian is the perfect style for hippies with porny lives. And a hipster is nothing but a modern hippie.”

  “I’ve told you many times—not a hipster.”

  “Okay. Preppers with porny lives.”

  He lifted his gaze to her, amused. “Do preppers have porny lives?”

  “Of course. What else is there to do in off-the-grid land?”

  She had a point. “Let’s give it a test drive. I’m here to service you, after all.”

  He licked her smooth folds, exploring every inch of her flesh, lapping at her spasming entrance. Then he slid his lips up to her pulsing clit and sucked it while she writhed and pulled at the cuffs.

  “Fucking sweet, babe.”

  “I need to come, Logan.”

  “Not yet.” He probed her with his fingers, first one, then two, moving inside her, learning her hot spots, taking his time. Humming against her swollen clit, keeping her on the edge but not applying enough pressure to send her over.

  “Now,” she urged, her whole body trembling.

  He blew against her core, making her back bow. “I said not yet. I want you dripping wet and soft before I fuck you.”

  He built her up, little by little, until her clit was throbbing against his tongue and her pussy clamped rhythmically around his fingers. She was panting and whimpering in desperate need, so ready to come that she was glowing.

  Suddenly, there was a loud blast. It took him a second to realize it wasn’t his blood rushing in his ears but a fucking siren.

  Sky stilled. “What’s that? A tornado warning?”

  “That, or the preppers are having an evacuation drill. I lean toward the latter option.”

  “Should we—”

  “Fuck, no. Let’s lie low and pretend we’re not home,” he said, going back to licking her. If there was a tornado, they’d find out soon enough.

  Either Arnie had finished his snack or the siren had startled him, because he was yelping and scratching at the do
or. “Ignore him,” Sky said, lifting her hips.

  Sure thing. Fuck everyone. They weren’t leaving his bed until—

  His thoughts were interrupted by a car horn. A long stream of honkings, as a matter of fact.

  “What now?” she groaned in exasperation.

  “My sister.” Picking him up for whatever crazy-assed drill they were having.

  His cell started ringing. Arnie, being no slouch, decided barking his lungs out was the thing to do in that situation.

  Logan closed his eyes and leaned his face into her stomach. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Sorry, baby. We need to go.”

  This was so not happening. “Are you serious?” she choked out.

  “I’m afraid so. I’ll make it up to you later, I swear. Get dressed.” Logan reached for the keys, unlocked one cuff, freed her from the headboard, and jumped off the bed. “Dark clothes. Camo if you’ve got it.”

  She snorted, sitting up. “You’re joking, right? The closest I’ve gotten to camo was watching—with contempt, I might add—an episode of Duck Dynasty.”

  “Black sweatpants then.”

  Sure, like she had packed that for Paris. The only sweatpants she had were gold and pink. Prada, spring collection.

  “Where’s the key for the cuffs?” she asked, looking around.

  “I left it on the bed,” Logan shouted from the closet.

  Sky patted the bedsheets but no luck. “Can’t find it.”

  Logan came back carrying a big rucksack. He left it on the floor and lifted the bedcovers. No key. “Maybe it fell on the floor?”

  Sky pointed at the rucksack, ominously similar to the ones she’d seen the 10K participants carry. “Don’t tell me. Bug-out bag?”

  “Bug-out bag. We need to hurry. They time these drills. If we mess up their schedule, we won’t ever live it down. Get ready. I’ll search for the key.”

  Where had she gone wrong? She’d had a nice, comfortable city life. Friday meant cosmopolitans, sexy clothes, and a fancy date with dinner and dancing. Hot sex if she was lucky. Now? She was in the middle of nowhere, getting ready for an evacuation drill, her mascara down her chest, her hair a mess, and her clit hurting like a bitch from not coming. No dinner. No dancing.

  She heard the front door opening and a woman yelling, “Logan! Move it! Where are you?”

  “My sister got tired of waiting outside.”

  “Forget the key and go meet her downstairs,” Sky urged him. “Before she gets in here. Or worse, before Arnie attacks her.”

  “Fuck.” Logan grabbed the bag and dashed out of the room. “We’re coming! Go back to the car. Give us a minute.”

  “You got thirty seconds,” was the annoyed reply.

  Sky pulled the first long-sleeved-shirt she could find over herself, hoping to cover the cuffs hanging from one wrist. It was Logan’s, so it went down to her knees. Whatever. She ran to her room and put on the pink-and-gold sweatpants and the black-and-red rubber boots. Jesus Christ, talk about hillbillying it.

  She grabbed her cell and dashed downstairs. Logan was holding the front door for her. Arnie stood guard at the foot of the stairs. Outside, the horn on a big, black truck was blaring.

  “About time,” said the driver, a gruff man dressed in camo, as they jumped in the vehicle. A woman with pixie-cut hair, also wearing camo, was riding shotgun. Megan, Logan’s sister, Sky presumed.

  “If you batshit wackos would schedule your damn drills at a more reasonable hour, or let us know beforehand, this wouldn’t happen,” Logan snapped back. The truck’s engine roared to life, and they sped down the road.

  “It wouldn’t be much of an emergency evacuation drill if we gave notice beforehand, would it?” the pixie lady said. “We were nice enough to wait for you to get over your flu, so don’t complain.”

  “What an honor. And you are giving back my keys. As in right fucking now.”

  Amused, Megan gave Sky a knowing once-over. “Why? Anything you’ve neglected to tell me?”

  Feeling self-conscious, Sky pulled her sleeves lower, ensuring the cuffs were out of sight. The faint rattle at every bump in the road was bad enough.

  Logan took her hand and squeezed it. To his sister, he said, “That’s why.” He gestured at Arnie. The dog was alert, his paws on Sky, guarding her. “Cerberus here might not be so understanding next time.”

  “Alec is very good with animals,” Megan said, looking at the driver. “But don’t worry. I won’t barge in again. Just in case.”

  The way Megan was smiling at her, Sky knew she wasn’t referring to Arnie.

  “You guys reek of… I don’t know what. Roses? Vanilla?” Alec asked, never moving his eyes from the road.

  “A Cleopatra bath bomb. Arnie had a spa session,” Logan answered.

  “I see. And the pink stuff?” Megan asked, pointing at his neck. She didn’t wait for an answer, instead offering her hand to Sky. “I’m Megan, sister of Mr. Rude and Bad Liar.”

  “Sky. Patient Zero,” she said, shaking Megan’s hand. “Where are we going?”

  “Bugging out. Emergency evacuation drill.”

  Right. Like that meant anything to Sky.

  Nevertheless she kept quiet until they arrived at a clearing where other vehicles awaited: two pickup trucks, one panel van, one decommissioned school bus, and a livestock hauler.

  “Looks like everyone is here,” Alec said.

  “Why on earth are there animals in that truck?” Sky asked. As far as she could see, there were a couple of cows, a handful of pigs, and some chickens.

  “Livestock is trained to bug out too,” Logan answered.

  That did it. She might sound like a moron, but she had to ask. “What exactly does it mean to bug out?”

  “Move to a secured, secondary location. Ideally a place you can reach on one tank of fuel.”

  “Okay. Any clue when we’ll make it to the secondary location and how long we’ll be there? This was kind of sudden, and I don’t have my necessities with me.” These people were taking cows with them, for God’s sake, and she didn’t even have any underwear on.

  Megan’s gaze shot to Logan, her eyes round. “You didn’t bring a bug-out bag for her? What were you thinking?”

  “Normal people don’t have bug-out bags, Megan,” he said, sounding ticked off. “I have one because you bullied me into it. I don’t have spare ones for unsuspecting guests. I’d prefer to live inconspicuously and not end up in the loony bin, thank you very much.”

  His sister didn’t seem to take offense. If anything, she looked aggravated. “You’ll make us lose points.”

  “Cerberus here should make up for them. He’s scary enough to be an asset to survivalists, right?”

  Megan considered that for a second, then nodded.

  Hopefully there were no stairs wherever they were going, or Arnie was going to be downgraded pretty fast. If these preppers with their livestock trained to bug out saw that her livestock couldn’t make it up to the second floor without being carried, bye-bye street cred.

  At that moment the pocket on her jacket started vibrating. Her phone. She checked caller ID. Lola. Look at that—outside the damn town, there was signal. “Hi,” Sky answered.

  “Hi, sis! I thought I’d call to check in. How’s your Friday? What are you doing? Having fun?”

  “Can’t talk now. We’re in the middle of an emergency evacuation.”

  Silence from the other end of the line. Then— “What? What do you mean, emergency evacuation?” Lola shrieked. “What’s going on out there?”

  Sky looked around at the armed people talking to Alec, all of them dressed in military attire. “Not sure yet. We’re either invading the neighboring county or turning into cattle thieves. Take your pick.” Hell, maybe both.

  “You okay?”

  “Yes, I’m okay. It’s just a drill. I’ll talk to you later.” She cut her sister off. Sky couldn’t explain what was happening because she barely understood it herself. And Lola would never believe her anyway. “My sister,” she sai
d to the others.

  “Won’t she worry?” Megan asked.

  Sky waved it off. “Tomorrow she’ll wake up with a killer hangover from the sweet cocktails she’s been drinking at a fancy club, and probably convince herself she imagined the whole conversation.”

  Maybe if Sky was lucky, she too would get sloshed and forget tonight ever happened. Then again, her throbbing clit, hard nipples, and unfulfilled lust were going to be a sore reminder. There was neither sex nor peace to be had on a Friday night in redneck land.

  “Send her a picture,” Megan suggested. “To set her mind at ease.”

  Sure. Because a picture of Sky looking the way she did was going to calm Lola down. No number of cocktails would be enough to stop her sister from charging to Minnesota. Not to mention if Sky ever made something of herself, that picture would haunt her forever. It would be her wardrobe malfunction. Her Watergate. Her Lewinsky. All of them rolled into one.

  Alec came back and the vehicles moved out onto an unlit, bumpy track that took them into the forest.

  Arnie rested his head on Sky’s lap and relaxed. Maybe it was the steady bumping, or the hum of the heating, or the fact that it was dark outside and everything looked the same, but soon she was burrowing into Logan, who wrapped her in his arms. Wherever they were going, they could wake up when they got there.

  She wasn’t sure how much time had passed when she felt Logan gently shaking her.

  “We’re here, Butterfly,” he said, kissing the top of her head. She opened her eyes, peeked through the window, and realized they had stopped in front of a compound. A bunch of people, also dressed in camo, were coming and going, unloading stuff and cows.

  “Can you give me a hand? We need to scout the launch site to ensure the drones can take off,” Alec asked Logan as they stepped off the truck.

  Logan turned to Sky. “You going to be okay? I have to go.”

  “She’ll be fine,” Megan answered. “I’ll look after her.”

  Sky nodded. Her expression might have been a bit freaked out, because Logan cupped her face with both hands and kissed her. He smiled reassuringly. “Go with my sister. I’ll be back in no time.”

  Megan stopped her as the men walked off, and produced a pin from her pocket. “Give me your hand. The left one.”