Chapter 10 #2
Before I got there, I heard the door to the rear section of the plane close behind me.
I turned to find Locke standing inside the closed door with his arms crossed in front of his chest. This section of the plane had two long sofas on each side that could clearly fold down into a giant bed to make it a bedroom.
A stack of luxurious bedding sat neatly folded on one end of the sofa to my right, the sun warming a fat stripe across it.
“Did you need to use the bathroom, too?” I asked innocently.
He didn’t say anything, simply crooked his finger at me and then pointed to the ground at his feet. The muscles in my stomach tightened with heat, and blood pooled low in my groin.
“Oh. You…” I swallowed. “You need a little help after all?”
“Stop talking.”
“Stop fidgeting. Stop talking. So, so bossy,” I said mock-sadly, even as I moved up the aisle to stand in front of him.
His lips were fucking sinful, and I wanted to taste them with my tongue, nip them between my teeth, and suck on them until he made guttural noises.
But that wasn’t what I’d been hired for.
I slowly sank to my knees.
“Good boy.”
Oh dear god.
I glanced up at him, trying to judge if the phrase had been intended to taunt or humiliate me.
Locke’s eyes were still heated, and the pink had crawled up his neck to his ears.
His cock began tenting the front of his trousers, so I reached out and rubbed my palm across it before testing the shape of it with my fingers.
“I want to make you feel good,” I said softly.
Locke’s fingers moved into my hair. “Then take me out and let me fuck your throat.”
My own dick was impossibly, painfully hard, and my breathing came out in sharp, shallow breaths. I fumbled for his belt and yanked it open, shoving his shirt up and out of the way.
“Easy,” he murmured. “There’s no rush.”
His fingers moved gently in my hair as if learning the feel of it, but as soon as I fished his cock out and put the tip against my lips, his fingers tightened, tilting my head back.
“Let me see you open for me.”
I looked up at him through my lashes and opened my mouth slowly, sticking my tongue out so he could see it wrap around the head of his cock.
“Fuck, that’s good. You want this, don’t you? You want to feel my cock in your mouth. Feel me using your mouth to get off.”
I let my eyes fall closed as I made a sound of agreement and let myself enjoy the clean taste of him, the musky scent of him, and the slight pressure of his hold on my hair.
This was so fucking problematic. I knew it was.
Straight assholes like Locke Maris were a dime a dozen, and I’d hooked up with plenty of them.
Usually, I didn’t give a fuck how they identified or how much internalized homophobia they were dealing with because I was only in it for a quick release.
I wasn’t their fucking therapist, and I’d accepted long ago that the world was full of shitty people whose dick could still give me a killer fucking ride.
But for some reason, this was different. Being used by Locke was both thrilling and degrading. I didn’t want him to think of me as just a willing mouth. But at the same time, him treating me like nothing but a vessel for his need turned me on more than I expected.
And I was way more interested in an orgasm right now than trying to get to the bottom of this esoteric morality.
His cock was fucking perfect. Thick and long. Satisfying without being intimidating. I’d savored every moment of sucking him off more than three years ago in his kitchen. Had replayed the moment way too many times while getting myself off. And I was shaking with the need to do it again.
“That’s it. You’re doing so good.”
His murmured words penetrated my lust-filled haze. I looked up at him and saw a flash of approval, of tenderness. But then it was gone, replaced by the intense, commanding stare he usually wore when looking at me.
“Get on with it,” he said gruffly. “I have work to do.”
His voice hitched on the last word because I’d already dialed it up a notch, deliberately letting myself gag as the head of his cock passed into my throat.
Tears sprang from my eyes as I sucked in a breath and dropped deeply over him again, sucking and slurping, getting dirty and debauched.
The sound of my gagging filled the small space and was soon joined by his grunts of pleasure and murmured encouragement.
“God, you’re so fucking good at this,” he said in a rough voice. His hand was still firm in my hair, and his other hand came around behind my head to hold me against his groin as his cock settled into my throat for several long beats.
When he let me go, I gasped in a deep breath and then took him in again, cupping his tight sac in one hand and reaching for my own cock with the other.
It didn’t take much. As soon as I tasted the first spurt of his release and knew that I’d made him lose control, my own release took over.
I quickly pulled off him to keep from accidentally biting him, which meant the last few threads of his release ended up on my chin as I threw my head back and gasped.
“Jesus fuck,” he said in a graveled voice.
I opened my eyes and saw him staring down at me. Tears streamed from my eyes, and snot and jizz probably covered my mouth and chin. It was hard to tell from the watery view I had of him whether he was satisfied or disgusted.
But then he lowered himself to the nearby couch and reached for a box of tissues in a wall caddy, carefully pulling a few out and reaching for me.
I stared at him as he moved me to kneel between his spread knees and began wiping my face.
“You’re a mess,” he murmured, handing me more tissues for the cum on my hand and clothes.
One of his hands held the side of my face while he carefully wiped around my eyes, nose, and mouth.
Instead of cleaning up my dick with the tissues he’d handed me, I continued to stare at him in shock. Who the fuck was this guy?
When he was done, he cleared his throat and stood up, stepping away from me and straightening his clothes. “Maybe now you’ll stop fidgeting.”
And then he was gone.
The door to the compartment closed again, leaving me alone with cold cum drying on my cock and hand.
“Holy fuck,” I breathed.
I stared at the door for another beat before hearing the muffled sounds of the flight attendant asking him a question about his coffee.
I quickly moved to the rear lavatory and cleaned myself up, taking advantage of the healthy supply of luxury toiletries in a little cubby next to a stack of fluffy hand towels.
When I returned to the front of the plane, the flight attendant was setting the table with a white cloth and gleaming silverware. She made casual conversation with an attentive Locke, who was asking her about a recent visit home to visit her parents in Montana.
“Montana’s beautiful. I’ve always wanted to spend some time there,” Locke mused.
“My family has a place in Montana,” I volunteered, stupidly wanting some of Locke’s attention. “In a tiny town called Legacy.”
I didn’t realize my mistake until I saw the surprise on his face. “They do? What kind of place?”
Yes, Jett, what kind of place would go-go boy Jethro’s family have? Fuck.
Why hadn’t I thought to refresh my memory about the finer points of Jethro’s cover story, when I’d literally lived a dozen lives since I’d last been Jethro? Double fuck.
The answer, I realized, was that I’d spent my time googling Locke instead. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Oh, uh… I just meant I have a couple of cousins who live there,” I backtracked, waving a hand vaguely.
I tried not to think about what an understatement that was.
My grandparents had bought a piece of land in Legacy years ago, large enough for them to give each of their children and grandchildren a parcel.
At any given time, there were at least a dozen Marians in town and tens of thousands of acres of land under Marian ownership.
I was incredibly glad Rocky wasn’t here to see her “experienced operative” now.
“I know where Legacy is,” Kayla said excitedly. “One of my friends from high school lives there. What’s your cousin’s last name?”
I forced the name Marian back into its hidey-hole and shot her a friendly smile. “Johnson,” I said. “They’re actually my dad’s cousins. Linda and Peter Johnson. Linda works at the grocery store in town, or at least she did the last time I heard anything about them. But it’s been years.”
I felt Locke’s eyes on me as I carefully turned the conversation back around to Kayla, asking her where she’d enjoyed traveling with her job.
After the meal, I pretended to take a nap in order to keep from saying anything else stupid. Thankfully, my exhaustion took care of the rest and turned the fake nap into a real one.