19. SIMON
SIMON
F eeling nauseous about the unknown, I trail behind the guys as we walk up the steps to the jet. I’m about to embark on a journey with strangers, well, apart from Carlos.
I step on board last and take in the sleekness of the cabin.
No money spared. Large leather seats, plush furnishings, shiny wood panelling.
It smells like new, similar to that new car smell.
I walk down the aircraft along the polished floors, my boots clicking with each step as the flight attendant vanishes behind a curtain.
As I reach the center of the cabin, Carlos is sitting there on his own, legs crossed with a grace like he rules the world, along with a glass of dark liquor already in his hands.
I turn to see the others have seated themselves further at the back, and I’m trying to decide where it would be safer to sit.
“Sit,” he says, pointing at the seat directly in front of him so we’d be facing one another.
“This wasn’t part of the deal. Shouldn’t I be with the others?”
Carlos looks at me, and I mean really looks at me—his eyes slow and sharp like they are undressing me without even touching me.
“Don’t act dumb, Simon. You know what this is.”
“Yes, a favor, control, a game.”
Carlos smiles and puts his drink on the tray next to him.
“Don’t flatter yourself. I don’t need games to get what I want.”
Arrogant prick.
I sit in the seat opposite him, my body stiff, trying to keep a distance like it meant something. Like it would help me keep away from him.
The flight attendant requests we all fasten our seatbelts and does the standard safety run through. Not that I need it. I have a feeling after several hours in this confined space with the demon across from me, I’d be willing to jump midair.
The jet hums beneath us as we start to taxi toward the runway, the lights of the airport turn to dots in the distance.
Silence again stretches and as I keep staring out of the window, I can feel Carlos watching me, like the heat of the sun burning my skin, and I hate the way my body reacts to his attention—tight, alert, traitorous. I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want to want this.
“Why me?” I ask quietly with zero idea where that question came from. “You could have had anyone else. Why were you so determined on me?”
Carlos leans forward, elbows on his knees. He looks amazing today. Black pants and a white open shirt that highlights his beautiful skin. He has a single necklace on today with a diamond encrusted rectangle shape drop.
“That’s exactly why,” he says. Our eyes lock.
“You fight me. Everyone always plays nice. Smiles. Lies. But you,” his eyes drop to my mouth, full of possessive intent, “you glare at me like you’d rather burn me alive.”
“Don’t tempt me,” I say with a flat tone.
Carlos grins. “Oh I want you to be dangerous.”
The jet lifts off the ground, smooth and quiet. The cabin tilts as I grab the armrests harder than necessary.
As soon as it's safe to remove our belts, Carlos stands up slowly, and steps in front of me. I don’t move as my breath catches at his closeness.
He crouches in front of me, hands resting on the arms of my seat, close but not touching.
“Say you don’t feel it,” he whispers. “Say it and maybe I’ll back off.”
I sit in a trance, staring at him, trying to figure out if he is real or not. My throat is dry, my lips are parted, ready to answer, but no sound comes out.
He leans in further to me, his mouth an inch from my own.
“I didn’t think so.”
This motherfucker thinks he knows it all.
“I hate you,” I say sharply. Carlos chuckles low and dark. “You hate that you want me. Remember, I know all your secrets. You wouldn't do that with someone you hate.”
Then without touching me, he stands and steps back, as if he didn’t just ignite a fire like he did the other night.
As he takes a seat, he says. “It's a long flight. Get some rest.”
I sit rigid in my seat, heart hammering, body clenched. I don’t trust myself to speak. And I definitely don’t trust myself to sleep. Not with him in the same cabin. Not when everything in my body is screaming to close the distance.
A couple of hours into the flight and I still can’t settle.
Everyone else has nodded off, leaving me sitting with my own thoughts.
I’m bored. I also need a piss. I make my way down to the rear of the cabin and open the bathroom door, which has my mouth open at how big this is for a plane.
It's bigger than most New York apartment bathrooms, which is crazy.
I do my business and wash my hands before checking my appearance in the mirror.
This trip may be a good thing as I’m in need of a tan.
I’m not sad about leaving the freezing weather of Grinston.
I splash some water on my face and untangle my bracelets that I’ve gotten wet on my wrists.
I don’t look too bad. Carlos was right, I own multiple items of the same clothing.
Yet again I’m dressed in my fitted black t-shirt with black jeans.
I will change it up in Rio though, as I do own some black shorts too.
Just as I open the door to return to my seat, Carlos is on the other side and immediately pushes both of his hands into my chest, forcing me to retreat back into the bathroom.
“Hey!” I shout, pushing him back.
His eyes are dark, full of a dangerous craving which I’m pretty sure is for me.
I step back, my ass bumping into the counter where the sink is, and I intuitively hold my breath.
He doesn’t speak as he lunges for me, slamming his mouth to mine.
I can’t explain what happens, but I don’t fight back.
I just let it happen. Maybe the cabin pressure is messing up my rational thinking, but all I can say to myself is ‘fuck it’.
I clutch his shirt in my fists, pulling him closer to me as we deepen the kiss.
Mouths wide, long, deep sensual strokes of our tongues have me mewling like a baby animal being given attention by its owner.
Fuck, he knows how to kiss. His hands move up my back and reach the back of my head where he pulls on my hair, which I’ve noticed he loves to do.
I wince into the kiss as he grips onto the strands hard, but all it does is cause flashbacks to the other night when those shocks of pain caused the most intense orgasm of my life.
I’m not mad about adding a new sexual experience to my list.
Carlos pulls away, both of us panting as I watch him undo his pants, pulling out his magnificent cock. I lick my lips with thoughts of how good it must taste.
“On your knees,” he orders, and I try to resist. But my desire to taste him makes me weak. So I comply, falling to my knees. The bathroom that felt spacious now feels compact, like all the air has been sucked out of the room.
Grabbing his granite hard dick with my hand, I slowly lick from the base to the tip, using as much saliva as possible. He groans deep and low above me, trying to push himself into my mouth, but I don't allow it. I want control. I pull away and glare up at him.
“I’m in control here, you’ll get what I give you, asshole.”
“So bitchy,” he grins as I get back to the job at hand. Literally.
I repeat the licking and sucking, making sure that when I reach the tip I suck and tug on the foreskin, treating it to a luxury tongue massage.
Carlos hands hold my head, and from the flexing of his fingers it's taking all his energy to not take over. If he tries again, I’ll leave him with blue balls.
His cock is shiny, dripping with my spit as I lather it with attention, before deep throating him until the tip of his dick hits the back of my throat.
Luckily for him, I have no gag reflex so I can take that thing as deep as I like.
“Holy shit. You eat cock like a dream,” he moans above me. I look up under my lashes and see he has his head thrown back, enjoying what I’m doing to him, and it fills me with so much pride that I have got this psycho dickhead lost in lust.
As I bob up and down on his dick, I lick the base of his cock while he is deep inside my mouth and swallow, tightening the channel to give the best pressure.
I swear his dick feels harder in my mouth as I double down on my efforts.
My mouth hurts, my jaw aches. But it’s fucking amazing.
Just ask my own hard dick that is really wanting to join in.
I moan around him as saliva drips out of my mouth, his groans become louder and I panic for a second that the guys outside will hear.
It doesn’t matter though as it's about to be over, his hands hold my head so tightly I can’t move as he fills my mouth with a stream of cum that I struggle to swallow down.
Why the fuck am I swallowing? I never swallow.
After a few seconds, his limp dick falls from my mouth and cum and spit dribbles down my chin.
I stand and grab the toilet paper that's on the counter behind me and clean up my mouth before it ends up on my clothes, and try to process the fact that I’ve given head to Carlos in his father’s private jet.
“You don’t need to shut down every time we fuck, you know. Nobody saw,” Carlos says as he cleans himself up and adjusts his clothing behind me where I watch him in the mirror.
“I’m not.”
He looks at me, meeting my gaze in the mirror.
“You are. It's the only thing you lie about, so don’t act like I’m dumb enough not to notice.”
“This isn’t easy for me, you know. I told you what happened,” I insist, wanting him to understand.
“Yes and I understand. But when we are on our own like this, you need to start letting go, otherwise you’ll never be free.”
“Ha! Free? You have no fucking idea.”
Carlos moves behind me and pulls my back into his front, tightly holding me in his arms as they snake around my waist. His mouth and nose snuggle behind my ear and I shiver at the contact.
“You never lie when around me, little lion. Never. I won’t allow it,” he whispers harshly and I swallow hard, still watching us in the mirror.
I struggle to comprehend that it's me I'm looking at, in another man's arms and it feels…nice. If he wasn’t such a dick, I’d say we look pretty good together.
I don’t respond as he lets go and walks out of the bathroom, whistling as he leaves me behind.
I wish the noise in my brain would stop.
I know what I want and what I feel, so why can’t I fucking do it?
After all these years, why does that motherfucker Mr. Morgan still have a hold over me?
Why did he get in my head? I should be over that shit.
I’m an adult and I know what's right and wrong, but it's like there’s this barrier that I’m trying to break through, and nothing I do breaks it.
If I could make a wish right now, I would wish I could turn back time to being that fifteen year old boy again. I wish that I wasn’t scared. I wish I’d have taken a knife to the old bastard and slit his throat. I wish I could’ve saved Leo from his fists. Saved us both.