by Vivien Vale
As the fireworks move from my belly to brain, I try and focus on giving him a head job.
With each thrust into my mouth, I feel him get closer to unleashing his cum into me. I’m ready to swallow the whole fucking load.
I just hope he comes before me because once he tips me over the edge, I don’ think I’ll be able to keep going.
Faster and faster I suck on him until I can feel the first drop of precum on my tongue. This is my signal, and I now massage his balls.
Bingo.
I’ve pressed the right button. He shoots his massive load into my hungry mouth.
I swallow and swallow until every last drop is gone.
Then it’s my turn ride the wave of pleasure. His fingers are pummeling hard and fast into me. My hips thrust toward his mouth, and when his lips suck extra hard on my clit, I feel an eruption of volcanic proportions.
Molten lava spreads through me, and hand grenades are exploding in my head.
My body’s convulsing with pleasure, and when he removes his fingers, I shudder.
Gently he gets off me and lies next to me.
“So,” he says as his fingers trace the outline of my tits. “Remember what day it is?”
I laugh and nod.
“How about my name?”
My fingers curl into a fist and I punch his arm.
“Okay, I get the message. You haven’t gone stupid.”
He sighs. “Maybe we need to experiment some more?”
I giggle.
“Or we could just agree it’s a stupid saying—one that is not based in any kind of truth at all.”
“Oh.” He purses his lips. “But where would the fun be in that? Surely the experiment is worth repeating?”
My head shakes. The man was incorrigible.
“I suppose so. We’ve got an entire weekend ahead of us.”
“Now that sounds more like it.” He rubs his hands together and grins like a little boy who just got his favorite toy.
Chloe
As a decently functioning adult with—I’ll be generous with myself here—an average grasp of reality, Keflavik International Airport is probably the closest thing I’ll ever get to a mythic North Pole wonderland where the air is rife with magic.
“Are you sure your crew flew us to the right airport? I thought we were going to Reykjavik,” I ask Aaron with a slight pout as we pass through the center of the empty terminal.
I’m being playful with him, I know where we are, but looking up at the stratospherically tall ceilings with different-colored lights flooding across steel beams in a rainbow-like pattern, I don’t even care if we are in the wrong place. It’s the right place to me.
“The limo will get us to the Reykjavik city center in half an hour tops.”
I look down from the ceiling slightly, taking in the vision of a splatter of Arctic sun streaming weakly through a massive set of windows behind Aaron, moving my eyes down just the perfect degree more to settle on Aaron’s own eyes.
He’s getting a kick out of watching me take in the terminal like I’ve never seen an airport before.
“I like this better than the small airport they have in Reykjavik,” he remarks. “That one’s not much to look at.”
In a sense, this is just an airport. I know it’s not the North Pole either. That’s still 1,800 miles away.
It is a wonderland, though, for sure. There are so few other people in the monumental terminal that I can hear the clear echo of our footsteps as Icelandic-language announcements play softly through some far-off speakers.
This is fucking grandeur.
I don’t even know what time it is here. I know what time we left New York, I could do the math, but I let my brain go blank about it so I can stay in this haze of dawn, dusk, or midday for the time being.
Naturally, there’s a limo at the curb the moment we step outside.
“You think of everything, don’t you?”
I watch Aaron smile, his face framed by the faint, otherworldly daylight in the sky behind him.
“You mean transportation? You could say I’m on top of things with that, yes. Remember I mentioned a limo a few minutes ago?”
Private planes, limos, I’m not used to it yet. I’m not complaining either. The chauffer opens the door for us to get in.
“Hearing the word and seeing a stretch…fuck it, let’s get going.”
Aaron’s smile grows into a laugh. Honestly, I’m just anxious to see the interior, which I can see right away is roomy as fuck.
It gets a tad lighter during the ride into town, but not by much. We seem to be going faster than what little other traffic I see. The moment I catch a tiny glimpse of something in the sky—something I’ve never seen before, something colorful and ethereal—I’m distracted by the limo slowing down rapidly.
It looks like we’re in central Reykjavik already, and pulling up in front of a building with slightly jagged postmodern architecture.
“The Hotel Gimsteinn,” I announce quietly, staring through the window and realizing that this odd, captivating building is where we’ll be staying.
“So the chauffeur does know where he’s going. I’ll chalk that up as a win.”
I look around my shoulder at Aaron, who’s also gawking a bit through the window.
“I know about this place. It looks much more orderly inside.”
“Wait till you see our suite.” Aaron’s done looking out the window and he’s moved onto looking at me.
“So that’s what you’re thinking about,” I counter with a seductive smile and a touch of mock indignation to keep things light.
“Maybe I am thinking about what you think I’m thinking about, or maybe not, but I’m talking about actually seeing the suite. I can’t wait to see your reaction when we walk in for the first time.”
I am totally in the dark. I don’t have even the tiniest fucking inkling about what Aaron’s talking about or what he has in store.
I try not to think about it as Aaron handles the check-in smoothly since they seem to know who he is here like they do everywhere. I don’t succeed; I can’t think about anything but what could possibly fucking be in that suite for me to see.
If Aaron wanted to leave in suspense, he succeeded handily.
On our way down the hall, Aaron can’t stop looking at me with anticipation, almost childlike in the way that there’s something he just can’t wait to show off.
“This better be good,” I tell him seriously.
My first glimpse into the suite reveals a nice-looking living room area, pretty big with modern furnishings, but that’s it.
I’m almost ready to let Aaron have it when I finally catch the view through the picture window.
I’ve seen photos of it like everyone else. No photo could’ve come close to preparing me.
I start taking slow, deliberate steps toward the window like I’m under a spell.
The earthly trappings of the hotel suite, the other buildings outside, even the snowy natural landscape in the distance—all of it pales against the grand, ghostly green curtains of radiance in the in the sky, streaking in simple curves all the way down the horizon.
And they’re dancing. A gradient of blue-and-violet layers twinkle in and out of view as the spectral green drapery shifts underneath.
I feel like I’m about to fucking cry.
“I know, right?”
I look away, overawed by the splendor of it, to see Aaron also watching the aurora. He’s also watching me watch the aurora.
“It’s really strong right now too,” he adds. “You can’t always see it like this from Reykjavik.”
As if he’s just heard his cue to enter, a hotel attendant strolls through the open door behind Aaron, wheeling a bar cart packed with all sorts of bottles, including champagne on ice.
Aaron and I go without saying a word for nearly twenty minutes. He pours a glass of champagne for me and one for himself, and we stand and watch the aurora until it fades into nothing.
I finish t
he last tiny sip in my champagne flute and turn away from the window to go get a refill.
“So what next?” I ask.
“What next for our time in Iceland?”
“No. What next in life? That was some kind of peak for me right there.”
Aaron deftly reaches for the champagne bottle and refills my glass as I hold it.
“We could try the hot tub,” he suggests.
“There’s a hot tub?”
Yes, there’s most definitely a hot tub. It’s one of the largest I’ve seen, and clearly visible from where I’m standing.
“Ah-hah, I see it,” I continue, “I’m definitely planning to give that some use, but I’m not ready to make that plunge quite yet. I want to save that for later.”
“Okay, my next suggestion would be to sit in front of the fireplace…”
“There’s a fireplace?”
There is indeed, and Aaron gets a beautifully raging blaze going as I settle onto the settee a few feet away.
After getting the fire going to his satisfaction, Aaron joins me on the settee. We’re not jumping right back into the passionate frenzy that dominated our flight here, not yet at least. At the start of this Icelandic day, and I can see the sun coming out clearly now, we’re enjoying the moment in a simple, quiet way in front of the fire.
After a few minutes of that, I do realize I need to call my sister, since I’m still at home as far as she knows, but I can make it quick.
Aaron stays silent and outwardly content as I dig through my purse, which is sitting on the settee arm next to me, and I retrieve my phone. I dial Cassie, and miraculously, her phone rings.
“Hello?” I’m the one who called Cassie, but it’s kind of weird to hear her voice in this foreign, fantastic setting.
“Holy shit, it worked.”
“What worked? You mean my phone in Iceland? Yeah, I know, international roaming. Glad you’re amazed.”
“Hey, my phone’s working in Iceland too.”
“Oh. Holy shit, indeed. You actually fucking came through.”
“Don’t act that shocked. You think I’m gonna let you enjoy Reykjavik while I just sit at home?”
“Um...wasn’t that your plan?”
“No! I’m here, aren’t I?”
Aaron barely looks over at me as I yell. His calm does not falter a bit.
“Whoa, hey, you’re here, Chloe. I will never doubt you again.”
“That’s all I wanted to hear. Anyway, I thought we could all go out to dinner tonight. The four of us. Aaron’s here.”
“Yeah, of course he is. Hmm, yeah, and of course we’ll all go out. Ethan’s in a meeting, but he should be out any time.”
Aaron’s eyes are on me, and I’m suddenly having trouble focusing on anything that Cassie says.
“Okay, Cassie, great to hear from you.”
“Great to hear from me? What the fuck are you…”
I end the call with a light tap on my phone’s screen. I’m enthralled by Aaron’s deep stare, a look that’s so fucking hot I don’t want it to end, but I also want to see where it ends up.
“Do you know the Blue Lagoon Spa?” he asks. “It’s close to here.”
“If you want to go, then I’m going with you.” Not the perfect response, but it sums up how I feel.
An hour later, I’m luxuriating in the lingering glow of the best and most thorough massage I’ve ever received by a long shot, courtesy of the staff at Blue Lagoon, and courtesy of Aaron, who’s paying for everything and tipping everyone very well.
We’re sitting next to each now in an outdoor sauna, spellbound by the view of Mount Esja in the distance.
Speaking of distance, Aaron and I are as physically close to each other as we’ve been since the plane ride. As much as I’m enjoying this unreal fucking day, all I can think about is how I’d like to be even closer.
Aaron
I crash down into the plush mattress of my bed back at the hotel and pull out my phone.
What’s shaking, hot stuff? I shoot the message at Mr. BadBoy and let the warmth of the heater wash over my body.
Normally, I wouldn’t be working on vacation. Or, let me correct that: normally, I never mean to work on vacation. But the Mr. BadBoy mystery is a fascinating piece of work that I intend to unravel, and when I’m on a mission, it’s rare that I let up until I get what I want.
Which is exactly how I scored Chloe, for that matter. And since I don’t want her to catch my workaholic ass dabbling in business during what’s supposed to be relaxation time, it’s best if I put my hours in while she’s busy getting dolled up.
It takes a few minutes for Mr. BadBoy to message back, which isn’t unusual for him. Knowing his type, he’s either hard at work himself or pretending to be.
Plenty of my clients think it’s clever to keep a woman waiting before they text back. Makes sure they don’t appear over eager.
But when it comes to Ms. Winters, no one keeps her waiting for long.
Freezing my balls off in Iceland, Mr. BadBoy finally messages back. Why don’t you come warm them up for me?
I’ve gotta read the message twice just to fucking believe it. This jackass is in Iceland too? Crazy-ass fucking coincidence.
I’d be glad to, darling, I message back. Considering I’m here in Reykjavik myself.
Of course, warming some other billionaire’s balls up is the last thing I want to do with my Icelandic getaway. If anything, I should be the one having my balls warmed—by Chloe’s hot little mouth, if I have it my way.
But Ms. Winters, naturally, is more than happy to play space heater for billionaire crotch. Unsurprisingly, I get my next message back right away.
Horny fucker can’t even stick to his own five-minute rule.
Time and place. Let’s meet up, and you can put those gorgeous hands of yours to work.
I look down at my own fingers. Big, thick, and a little hairy on the backs of my palms. Pretty fucking manly looking, all things considered. While my hands look incredible smoothing over Chloe’s gorgeous bare skin, I can hardly imagine that they’re what Mr. BadBoy wants cradling his junk.
All the same, it’s unlikely that I’m going to get another chance like this again. I see coincidences as gifts from fate, and I’m not one to fuck a gift horse in the mouth.
Unless Chloe is the gift horse in this metaphor, I guess. In that case, hell. There’s only so much temptation a man can take.
I send Mr. BadBoy a Google Maps link to a popular restaurant in the center of the city. Upscale. Chic. Small enough that I’ll be able to pick him out from the crowd for myself, but not so small he’ll be able to spot me while I’m doing it.
I don’t say anything else, because Ms. Winters is a fucking badass. When it comes to flirting, whoever is talking the most has the least power.
Mr. BadBoy must know this too.
See you there, he says, and that’s the end of it.
Looks like we’ve got a date.
I don’t fucking want to be thinking about business right now, admittedly. I’m enjoying spending time with Chloe, sans all the meetings and conference calls and annoying texts from my assistant. But the Mr. BadBoy account will keep fucking haunting me if I don’t check him out while I’ve got the chance.
Still, it would be a better evening if I could just savor Chloe’s sexy fucking presence without work looming over my head for once.
It’s fucking crazy, really. I’m not the kind of guy to fall for a woman. Let alone the kind to fall this hard and this fast. Ever. End of story.
But Chloe makes me fucking crazy. The way she gets in my head and dances around all day on those smooth, sexy legs of hers. The way I’m thinking about her, even when she’s away.
Even when I’ve just fucking spent time with her. Even now, when I should be prepping for more goddamn work.
I’m starting to care about Chloe, I realize. Not that I didn’t care about her before or anything, but there’s a difference between hoping someone gets home safe and hoping
that she’ll still be thinking of you when she gets there.
This girl. This fucking girl. She’s under my skin, burrowing her cute little fingers right into my fucking heart.
She might actually be someone that I could have a real fucking relationship with. As opposed to just real fucking, which is pretty much what the rest of my romantic history amounts to.
It blows my mind even thinking about this, but look, this is Chloe, for fuck’s sake.
You’ve seen her. You’re heard her adorable little laugh. You know how fucking cute and sexy and all encompassingly overwhelming she can be.
So can you blame me?
Didn’t think so.
And even crazier? I can even see that perfect little picture I’ve held in my mind for so long. The one where it’s Ben and me—with a woman who can love us both. I’ve got to be out of my mind to want that woman to be Chloe.
But there it is.
That’s what I want.
I just have no fucking clue how to get it.
* * *
Chloe comes out of the bathroom looking so damn fine, it kills me. I know she’s just done her hair, put on makeup, and shimmied into her sexy little outfit, but all I can think of is how bad I want to mess that hair up, make that makeup, and tear those fucking clothes right off of her.
The day at the spa has made her even more beautiful, if that’s even possible. It makes me want to pamper her like this for every day of the rest of her life. Let’s see how she glows after a year of luxury.
Hell, at this rate, after a week of pampering, she’ll probably be so hot, my fucking cock will explode.
Actually, I’m not going to take my cock exploding quite off the table yet for tonight. After we get dinner and this Mr. BadBoy thing sorted, I think Chloe’s excellent evening look deserves a good, hard, post-dinner fuck. If I’m destined to explode, it might as well be balls-deep in Chloe’s tight cunt.
“You ready, babe?” she asks me.
Babe. I’ve never liked it when a girl has called me that before, but out of Chloe’s sexy lips, I couldn’t imagine anything I’d like to hear more. Except for maybe, Oh, Aaron! Fuck me already. Take me now, right here on the floor! Dinner be damned…babe.
