* * * *
Deven was performing the preflight check on his plane, and it would be finished fueling shortly. He would fly Charyn and Makenzie to LAX, and from there they would take the charter to Nadi, Fiji. He was going to stay overnight and fly back into ILM after he had the chance to rest. While the couple would take the resort flight with one stop in Honolulu, there they would refuel and arrive about seventeen hours later. They were staying at the Poseidon Undersea Resort, in the Nautilus Suite. The newlyweds would spend two weeks there, ten days on land and four underwater.
Charyn asked Deven to take him and his new bride to Los Angeles so he could have his fill of conjugal rights on the way. As Charyn explained it, he would be unable to indulge in unbridled wedded bliss for the next twenty-eight hours if the resort picked them up on their chartered flight straight from the reception. So the couple opted to fly to LA and spend one day there before making the trip halfway around the world for their honeymoon. He had the preflight check completed and climbed in the jet, looking over the passenger cabin. He had a concierge service come out the prior day to prep the plane for the cross-country trip. They did their job well. The minibar was stocked and the plane cleaned to like-new condition. They even strung the icicle lights he requested since no candles were permitted. From there he climbed into the cockpit, checking his instruments.
Ten minutes later, the couple pulled up to the private strip used for charter planes. Deven greeted them, escorting the giddy husband and wife inside. He would consider himself lucky if they weren’t screwing by the time he took off. Apparently he wasn’t going to be able to claim good fortune on this flight.
Charyn was inside his wife before the plane taxied the runway. The only concession to their location was the seat belt they shared on the Gulfstream couch.
Deven felt his ears pop when they went higher as he was dumb enough to remove his headphones before hitting the proper altitude, and he heard the screams accompanying the couple’s lovemaking in back. He could only imagine what it must have felt like. That was one of the few things he hadn’t had the chance to do. He had banged one girl over the entire craft from the cockpit to the back passenger seats, but since he normally flew himself, hadn’t joined the Mile High Club yet.
His brother took it a bit further than he would have thought to. The pressure at takeoff must have been orgasmic, and he’d bet the entire year’s earnings that either one or both of the wedded couple had come. Actually, Mak probably came twice. She was still screaming when they hit the slight turbulence. Wind buffeting the small plane, Deven pulled his attention from his hard cock to the matter at hand. In the short term, that meant getting everyone to LA without crashing. The cockpit, already small for a man his size, grew smaller with his hardness trapped in tuxedo pants.
By the fifth hour, Deven was half crazy and ready to spurt. They didn’t stop, the newlyweds in back showing their apparent hunger for the other. He knew they had to be tired. No way in the world they had any energy left. There were leftovers from the ceremony to eat, but he knew they couldn’t have eaten much. Since the moment he heard the food being prepared there was only a few minutes of blessed silence broken by more screaming sex. His cock was going to explode, Deven thought as he squirmed in the leather seat.
By the seventh hour of continuous fucking, the entire cabin and cockpit were filled with the scent of lovemaking, semen and orgasmic musk. Deven was about to go mad when he finally reached his destination and upon landing, whipped his cock out. He barely had the room to maneuver, but he had to relieve himself now. Otherwise, someone was going to lose an eye. When he finished coming in the waiting hand wipe, he was still hard and still wanting. The only woman who’d ever fully sated him was back in Wilmington, and she hated him. Deven could feel it around her, the aura of disgust projected around her. He knew he pleased her body, but beyond that he didn’t know her. If she had her way, he wouldn’t. He didn’t want to make himself vulnerable to her that way, even if it were up to him. Or so he tried to convince himself unsuccessfully.
Makenzie was knocked out. Apparently she passed out when she came the last time, as the plane descended. Even in repose she was lovely. The hours of lovemaking rendered her skin with a deep healthy flush. Charyn however, was a former shell of himself, as if he’d had his soul sucked out by a succubus. He was panting, half-nude, and the only claim to modesty was his pants. His wife was in a slip of some kind, the dress crumpled beneath her. Deven just smirked at his brother.
“Did you even take a break?”
“Nope, not till now. I haven’t had her in over a week.” Charyn’s head leaned against the couch, still panting.
“Well, hopefully you two are good enough to make your flight to Nadi, especially since it will be another seventeen hours or so to get there.” Deven laughed, the sound stirring the sleeping siren next to his brother. She yawned and clenched her husband, who helped her stand. Her legs must have been like rubber, as she couldn’t hold herself upright. Charyn took her in his arms, but his legs weren’t much better. They crumpled back to the couch, just sitting still, eyes unfocused. Deven decided to let them get dressed, so he cleared his throat.
“I’m going to get the luggage and do the rest of my post-flight check. Give me fifteen, and I’ll come back for you.”
With that, he left, exiting the cabin into the early hours of morning. The flight took seven hours, and they left at midnight. With the time change, it was four something-or-the-other in the morning, and he was through. If he could check in to the hotel within an hour, he could get in bed by six and be back on his way home no later than three in the afternoon. Dev walked the plane’s perimeter, checking everything three times. When done, he steeled himself to go back to the cabin and he sorely hoped his brother and sister-in-law weren’t at it again. He didn’t think he could take hearing, seeing, or smelling anything more associated with sex. When he approached the door, it opened and the pair wobbled down the steps more than a little rumpled. Once they reached the ground, Charyn carried his wife to the waiting car, a chartered limo, to take the trio to the hotel.
When they made it to the hotel, Dev sauntered in, handing his ID to the doe-eyed blonde. She gave him a look, one that told him if he wanted her tonight, she was his for the taking. The girl looked almost half his age and made him feel elderly. Shouldn’t she be off chasing someone her age, instead of slyly propositioning a grizzled thirty-six-year-old man like him? But it felt like too much effort to acknowledge her, and he blatantly disregarded the signs the bottle blonde gave. Her lips pouted, and she handed him the keys for the two penthouse suites he’d reserved. He stalked back to the car, handing the keys to his brother. Deven took the luggage from the trunk, handing everything to the waiting bellhop. They made a conspicuous sight, him in a rumpled, overly worn tux, followed by a disheveled bride, her groom carrying her through the lobby. The few guests raised eyebrows slightly and promptly went back to their computers, phones, and breakfast.
When Dev reached the suite, he collapsed on the bed with a Snickers bar from the fridge. He was so exhausted, the seven dollars was worth the expense. He ate it in silence and not even the television dared intrude. Energy spent, Deven crashed, still wearing his partial tuxedo.
That afternoon he woke at two, still feeling a bit off. His tongue was gritty from the sugar eaten before he slept, his eyes were crusty, and he was still in the damn tux. He stood, turning on the coffeemaker, before heading straight for the shower. The water was cold when he got in, but he remained since he wanted to wake his dead brain and limbs with the arctic spray. When he was done he made his way across the room nude, toweling off quickly. He checked his flight plans registered with the strip. Deven dressed quickly in a Harvard sweatshirt and old jeans, shrugging on white jogging sneakers.
His overnight bag packed with a dirty and tired tuxedo, Deven took the elevator down, opting to eat at the restaurant in the lobby. When he was seated at the bar, he placed an order for medium-rare, bacon-wrapped filet mignon an
d potatoes, asking for a glass of water to wash it down. The service was swift, and the food arrived fifteen minutes after he requested it. Deven paid his tab with a hundred dollar bill he left with the bartender as he didn’t have time to wait for the server. His phone buzzed with a text from the car service telling him the driver was waiting at the lobby doors to escort him to the jet.
Once the preflight check completed, Deven taxied the runway, headed back home. The trip was faster than ever since he didn’t carry any passengers or luggage. When he got back to the strip, Charli had picked up the car the newlyweds left and brought it to her apartment, and now he just needed to go home. He hit the freeway, headed toward the beach and his bed.
Chapter Three:
The Trick Is To Keep Breathing
Charli was disgusted with herself. Here it was ten a.m. and she had nothing to do. She didn’t feel like cleaning her house, didn’t want to shop, and didn’t want to move. She was bored and spent most of her time watching trash TV and soap operas. For the last two days, she spent vegetative on her couch, smoking joint after joint. She ate six cartons of Ben & Jerry’s Pistachio Pistachio, and for a bit of relief from pistachio, ate Aloha Macadamia. Interspersed between the pints, she took showers and brushed her teeth, but that was it. She had grown fur everywhere and put a few roots in her cushions. Charli was a go-getter, not used to the inactivity and the bitter bite of depression on top of that. She was the person that never stood still, day or night.
The wedding was the perfect platform to throw herself behind, keeping her busy twenty-four-seven for six months straight. Now she didn’t have anything to do, and “idle hands rot the brain,” like Ms. Stafford used to say. Apparently, her surrogate mother was right, as always. Charli no longer worked, not even the part-time three days a week at Southern Wireless, when she used to be a tech rep. She knew she wanted to do... something else, not that. She fell asleep on the couch, resting. She dreamed of her and Deven, their one night together. She woke just as he backed her to the door at Charyn’s. When she looked over, a commercial played on TV about some correspondence school. It hit her out of left field what she needed, a business to throw her money behind. She’d made plenty over the years from selling weed, and most of it was in hiding from Uncle Sam in overseas securities and Swiss bank accounts. It was time the money did something more than accrue simple interest. Maybe she could be a silent partner or something. This feeling was all Makenzie’s fault. She would still be in the dope game if it wasn’t for her offhand dare to Makenzie just before she met Charyn last year. Charli had challenged Makenzie to start living her life, instead of just existing, and to attempt to try to sell her paintings again. Mak was happy to comply, but only if Charli put her money where her mouth was. Since her best friend was able to complete her challenge, it meant that Charli had to quit selling weed and supplying it to dealers as well.
The only real question was, what did she want to do? She thought long and hard on what would be best for her. She was bored of the wireless game, but needed legit funds to launder her money from marijuana sales and grow houses. Then it hit her. She could start her own business and work for herself. Her brain mulled the idea over the next hours, even while Charli napped that night.
When she woke the next day, the concept had taken root and wouldn’t stop beating her in the head. She would stop sleeping on the couch tonight. After the last few nights she felt like shit. The next thing to do would be to go online. Leaning over the crystal ashtray threatening to spill joint roaches everywhere, she nabbed her laptop. She needed an idea and a prospectus as to cost. Looking online, she gathered some of the data needed. She stretched and felt better than she had in months. Deciding she needed a bath, she padded to her bathroom, grabbing her phone and earbuds. The bath refreshed her in a way that nothing else could, the water was hot and foamy, and she was grooving to Little Brother’s The Minstrel Show album playing on her phone. Bath complete, Charli cleaned her house, ready to start fresh.
The subsequent days passed faster and faster until Thanksgiving approached, and she ate a solo meal at home that night. Mak invited her over, but she was a newlywed, and Charli wanted to give them space. They did have plans for that night to get some Black Friday shopping in and had set up a date for ten thirty p.m. to drive to the outlet mall. Charyn told her to take the Hummer, just in case the shoppers got aggressive or someone hit her again.
She arrived on time to Mak’s house, right at ten twenty, but of course she was left waiting for her friend to finish getting her purse together. Makenzie was taking her sweet time, and Charli was getting impatient, ready to hit up the Coach store.
“Makenzie Moreland, if you take one more minute looking for that card, imma flip the script.” Charli laughed and Mak looked confused, still not finding the black AmEx card Charyn gave her last week.
“But I want to have unlimited funds at my disposal and either way we are gonna get to our destination.” Makenzie laughed back, digging through her pockets.
Charli saw how Charyn just watched his wife, happy to be with her, in her presence. The way he looked at his mate gave Charli a pang deep inside. She wasn’t jealous, but she knew she needed that feeling for herself. She looked back at Charyn, who was barely containing his mirth, his wife still tearing up their house. Finally, Makenzie looked at her husband, who just gave her a cocked brow in response to her glare.
“Gimme my card, Charyn! I’m not playing with you.” Makenzie’s lips were scrunched up, and she was exasperated.
“You’re getting better. It only took you fifteen minutes to realize it this time.” He laughed heartily, the sound full and echoing through the space. Charli slid out her wing chair seat, fell to her knees as she giggled along. He stood up and pulled his wallet out of a back pocket, revealing the matte metal card lining the palm as he passed it over to his wife.
Makenzie snatched the card from his hand, asking, “Where was it this time?”
“The driveway.” Charyn smiled, looking at Charli, addressing her. “She keeps losing the card since the day she got it. I found it beside the car at the movies last weekend. Then on Tuesday it was in the backyard. I don’t get how in the hell it gets some of the places I’ve found it.” He just shook his head, scratching the brush cut.
“It’s not funny! He keeps taking the card and has me looking like a plum fool trying to find it.” Makenzie was madder than spit, her face turning a signature burgundy. Charlene found herself chortling at the couple and their mock spat.
“Charli, if you don’t stop talking junk, laughing and whatnot you are gonna ride in the trunk all the way to the beach. Maybe back home, too.” Makenzie was calm now, able to see the irony in her situation.
Disaster averted, the ladies hopped in the SUV, headed for Myrtle Beach and the outlets. The shopping was awesome, both ladies filling the vehicle with purchases. They bought Coach purses, clothes to donate to the local battered women’s shelter, and a few pairs of beautiful shoes. Charli bought some leather, a head-to-toe outfit. There was a bustier top, leather pants, leather knee-high boots, and a choker. She didn’t know where she was going to wear it, but it looked so good on her, Mak forced her to take all of it with her. The next purchases Charli made were for lingerie. She hadn’t bought any sensual undergarments in a while, and her love life reflected the lack.
By the time five a.m. hit, both ladies’ feet begged them to sit down. Charli toed her slides off as Mak did the same. They decided to get a meal at a waffle spot, a bit away from the outlets. They ate silently, Charli’s attention on her waffle and bacon as Makenzie dined on a western omelet. The pair sighed simultaneously, and Charli wanted to talk. Even though they still saw each other at least weekly, there wasn’t as much girl chat. She missed the hell out of it.
“So, Mak, how’s married life? Do I gotta beat up Captain Sexy?”
Mak could only laugh, “Nah, I do love being married to him. Best believe he treats me like gold. Now that I know what he’s capable of, I would never accept less.
You know this last year with him has been the best of my life. But what about you? Are you ready to start looking again?”
“No way, I don’t think I want to. There isn’t a Mr. Right for everyone, and I’ve accepted that. I just want you to be happy, and maybe one day I can have a child or something. Nowadays, women can have children without a man. That may be a good option.”
Charli saw her words broke Makenzie’s heart. Her best friend wouldn’t want her friend alone, and generously wanted her as happy as she visibly was.
“But if you just can be open about it...”
“Not now, Mak. Just let it go.”
“What about Deven? The sparks fly off you two. I know you think he’s attractive.”
“Makenzie, don’t think to go there.” Charli was through with the direction the discussion headed and felt her face close off with the mere mention of his name. After all these years Makenzie knew her better than any other person did. She knew when Charli got like this she would need to take a few minutes to calm down. They finished eating in silence, and when done, the waitress brought the check. Makenzie snatched it up, paying with the beloved black AmEx card. Then she nervously checked her purse twice for said card as Charli pulled from the truck stop. On the ride back they complained of their shopping induced aliments, both griped about being dog tired and ready to collapse, and Charli swore her feet felt tighter than cased sausages.
Willows, Jennifer - Lust for Life [The Moreland Brothers 2] (Siren Publishing Allure) Page 3
