15. Brent
15
Brent
I arrive ten minutes early thanks to the light morning traffic. Perfect timing is all I can think when she answers the door in a short, silky robe, her hair still damp. Fuck. I think she’s naked under it. The dark flower pattern makes it hard to be sure.
With a panicked, “Oh God, you’re here,” she leaves the door open for me and makes a mad dash across the room. “I’ll be right back.” She throws the words over her shoulder as she ducks behind a long curtain. I catch sight of a bed before the fabric settles into place after her.
“Relax, Joey,” I call out. I close the door and walk into her tiny studio apartment. “It’s not like the plane’s going to leave without us.” I’ve already called ahead to the airport service to delay the flight. Coming to pick her up is completely out of the way. But the detour is totally worth it, seeing her excited and nervous for the trip.
I still can’t believe she agreed to this. My heart jumped when I saw her text. I replied immediately, inviting her on the trip before she changed her mind. I was going to check on my house in San Diego before going to Los Angeles to take care of business. On the way over to Joey’s, I made some calls to adjust my schedule. I want the weekend clear to spend with her.
It’ll be fun to show her around San Diego and play tourist with her. She never came out with my family for any of my games. Through Charlie, I’d offered to pay for her flight as well, but Joey always refused.
I wonder if she’s traveled anywhere. She’s been supporting herself since she was sixteen, so I imagine she has little left over for vacations. It appears she doesn’t even have enough for a decent place to live. I sweep my gaze around the tiny, dark apartment.
It’s a small, simple layout, with everything except the bathroom all in one space. The long, frilly curtain partially hides the sleeping area at the far end. A beat-up old love seat and TV stand occupy the space in the middle. A miniscule kitchen is at the other end by the door, a two-person table wedged under a narrow window that’s at sidewalk level. It’s covered by blinds to ensure privacy.
Bits of color scattered around brighten up the drab walls—an emerald-green vase on the kitchen table filled with a bunch of miniature glass sunflowers, orange and yellow throw pillows on the brown sofa, bright red dishware drying in the rack on the counter. And lots of photographs. Joey has several framed collages of her and Charlie and the rest of my family on the walls and on the end tables next to the sofa, including a few of me in group pictures with all of us.
I wander closer to the photos and find a few of her with her mother. Neither of them are smiling in the ones where Joey is older. Unlike the other pictures that have wide smiles and laughter, these show only strain. There are no pictures of her father or any male figure besides the family photos I’m in.
“Sorry I’m running late,” she says from behind the curtain. “Today is laundry day, so I’m a little short on clean clothes. It was tricky finding something to pack.”
I turn to the sound of her voice. She’s on the other side of the curtain, but a movement in the corner reveals her reflection in the mirror that’s visible through the gap between the fabric and the wall. I should look away, but wild horses can’t drag my gaze from the sight of her tall, built body. She is facing away from the mirror, so I can only see her long, toned legs and luscious ass encased in black panties. If she just pulled them on, I’m sorry I missed the view of her bare cheeks.
That’s okay. Soon I’ll be running my hands over those shapely curves. I can’t wait until we have uninterrupted time so I can explore her body thoroughly—after I sate myself in her a few times…
While I’ve been busy imagining her naked, she’s finished getting dressed. She turns and moves closer to the mirror, finger combing her hair. I’m surprised she’s wearing a shirt with a V-neck. I’m going to have a damn hard time keeping my eyes off that cleavage, visible between the deep, narrow point of the neckline.
She catches my eyes in the mirror and freezes for a second before continuing to fix her hair, twisting it into some type of bun. She grabs a colorful summer scarf and wraps it loosely around her neck, effectively cutting off the tempting view.
“I’m almost done packing,” she says when she steps from behind the curtain.
“You didn’t have to stress out over it. I did say clothes were optional,” I tease her.
Yep, there’s the blush I missed over text this morning.
She brushes past me to finish packing the scruffy duffel bag on the sofa. “Does that go for you too?”
I don’t know if the look she gives me under lowered lashes is a flirty come-on or if she’s just being shy. The combination of her bold words and innocent blushes makes her both sexy and adorable. And I love the quick glimpses of humor I’ve seen so far. “Absolutely,” I reply. “Haven’t you realized yet I’m a minimalist?”
She doesn’t respond. Shy again. That’s okay. I’m going to enjoy peeling back the layers of shyness and inhibition that are hiding the funny and daring woman waiting to emerge. It’ll be fun to banter with her when she gets comfortable with me.
The first step is for her to become used to my nearness and casual touching. With that in mind, I go to her, entering her personal space.
She zips up her bag and blows out a breath. “Okay, I’m packed.”
I don’t move away to give her room when she takes a step back. Her arm brushes mine, and she takes another step away.
“All set?” I ask, picking up the bag from the sofa as if that had been my intention all along. “Let’s hit the road—and the friendly skies.” I walk toward the door and wait while she grabs her purse and checks its contents.
“Let me run up and tell my landlady I’ll be away so she doesn’t worry.”
I’m glad she has a landlady who worries. Though the neighborhood appears safe, anyone could get inside her place in ten seconds, the flimsy lock no deterrence.
I put Joey’s bag in the back of the Phantom and wait at the curb while she exchanges a few words with an older Indian woman who’s garbed in a long, brightly colored tunic over matching baggy pants.
“Bye, Aunty!” Joey calls out, practically skipping down the stairs. “Aunty” remains in the doorway, frowning at me. I give her a friendly wave, which she does not return. Apparently I’m something to worry about. Joey confirms it when she reaches me.
“Don’t mind her. She’s overprotective of me. She has a daughter my age, already married with a baby, and she doesn’t understand why I’m not.”
I open the door for her, then go around to the driver’s side.
“She’s constantly trying to set me up with good Indian men”—her voice takes on an Indian accent—“‘with good education and good job who come from good Indian family.’” She shakes her head and smiles. “A doctor is, of course, the preferred choice of careers in a husband,” she finishes in her own voice.
I pull away from the curb and head north toward the small airport where Niko keeps his jet. “Shit, no wonder I got that disapproving glower from her. I’ve struck out on all the requirements.” Not that I was in the running to be a husband.
She giggles.
“What’s so funny?”
“I was just imagining what her reaction would have been if I told her I was going away with you.”
“What did you tell her?”
“I told her you were Charlie’s brother—she’s met her—and you were giving me a ride to Connecticut.”
I bet the landlady would do more than glare if she knew I planned to deflower her innocent young tenant.
Joey’s eyes are wide with wonder as we drive right up to the black and red Gulfstream jet that’s waiting for us, the Anastasios logo of a red and orange phoenix on the tail. She doesn’t even try to hide her excitement when she takes her first step onto the plane. I silently gesture to the pilot to let her sit in the cockpit for a few moments. She thanks the older man, her face beaming.
We follow the flight attendant into the main cabin. “A part of me feels guilty for flying on a private plane, but I’m so excited to experience it just once,” she admits.
Just once was all it took for me to be hooked on the comfort and convenience of a private jet. Her awe at the luxury of the small eight-seater plane makes me realize how jaded I’ve become, taking for granted things that most people will never experience. I’d considered calling Niko to see if his more spacious Bombardier with its separate bedroom suite was available.
But even I would never indulge in flying in that alone. As much I would have liked to take Joey’s virginity at forty thousand feet, it would have been over the top and wasteful.
“If it makes you feel any better,” I explain, “the plane is going with or without us. Niko needs it out in LA, so he let a company charter it to fly some executives out this morning. I was going to hitch a ride with them, but they canceled at the last minute, so it’s just us.”
Seeing it all through Joey’s eyes reminds me of when I’d still been amazed by all of this. Her excitement is contagious, and I look forward to the flight. Until then, I was impatient that the journey would take six hours, wanting only to reach my final destination—Joey’s body.
Determined to give her the experience of a lifetime, I make an effort to impress and entertain her. Once we’re airborne and at our cruising altitude, the flight attendant sets up a breakfast spread of fruit, granola, and yogurt as well as coffee and juice.
I keep the conversation light and casual, talking mostly about places I’ve traveled and where she’d like to go someday. Halfway through the trip, we’re served lunch. The meal is more lavish than I would have requested for myself, but I’m happy to take advantage of the pre-ordered catering.
We finish the meal with a decadent mousse and a bottle of champagne. The flight attendant retreats discreetly to the galley after serving us and pulls the door panel closed. She knows not to come into the cabin unless called.
“Oh God. That is so good,” Joey moans when she takes the last bite of mousse. She licks the spoon thoroughly and runs her tongue over her lips to get every last bit. I let out a low growl of my own while I watch her, imagining her doing things to me with her agile tongue.
Fuck it. I stand and pull her out of her seat so I can kiss her, remembering at the last second to go slow. My patience is rewarded when she responds shyly. I deepen the kiss, tasting the chocolate and champagne as my tongue explores her sweet, warm mouth. It isn’t long before she’s clinging to me, as desperate as I am for more.
I walk backward until my calves hit the sofa, and I sit, pulling her onto my lap so she’s straddling me. I let out a frustrated groan when her long legs keep her lower half from getting closer to me. I want the heat between her legs pressed against me.
A rational thought breaks through my lust, and I lift her and hold her in place while I slide my ass to the edge of the seat until we’re lined up. She settles back on top me and…Ah, fuck, right there.
She circles her pelvis against me, gasping into my mouth each time my erection hits the right spot. I keep my own desire in check, knowing I can’t take her here, not without complete privacy and comfort.
But I can give her a mile-high orgasm. With that goal in mind, I slip one palm from her ass to under her T-shirt. I smooth my fingers over the soft skin of her back and around to her breast to close over her full curve. It fits perfectly in my large hand.
Joey stiffens but doesn’t pull away.
“It’s okay, baby,” I whisper against her mouth, forcing my hand to be still though it’s itching to explore. I keep kissing her, touching my tongue to hers. “Don’t be shy,” I murmur. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this, to touch this sexy, beautiful body of yours?”
She resumes her small desperate movements over my straining erection. I pump my hips against her, giving her more pressure, brushing my thumb over her nipple at the same time. She moans and gasps, her head falling back in ecstasy as I continue to play with the hard tip, squeezing and rolling. My mouth travels along her jaw, kissing down her throat, marveling at the softness of her skin.
I remove her scarf so I can continue to her collarbone and down to her mouthwatering cleavage, licking and sucking along the way. I pause just long enough to drag her shirt up, revealing breasts covered only by the thin material of her black bra. The flesh above it quivers with each breath she takes.
“Fucking gorgeous,” I mutter before leaning in to use my teeth, holding her nipple through the cloth so I can lash the hardened tip with my tongue before giving it a strong suck.
“Oh God!” she moans, circling faster against the rock-hard erection trapped in my jeans.
I wrap her closer to me, pressing her bottom half against me even as I push up to meet her. Fuck the layers of denim between us! I wish I’d worn gym shorts and she was in a skirt…or nothing at all.
Moving my mouth to her other breast, I give it the same treatment. She makes little whimpering sounds that tell me she is close. God, I wish I could slide my hands into her pants and touch her as she explodes. But that would require pulling her away to undo zippers and buttons. I don’t want to risk taking her out of the moment. She’s on the verge of coming.
Letting her set the pace against my erection, I redouble my efforts on her breasts. I pull the cup of the bra down over one breast and suck the tight bud into my mouth. I squeeze and roll the other with my thumb and index finger.
“Oh God! Oh God!” Fully immersed in the throes of passion, she grabs my hair and holds me close. As if I had any intention of moving away.
Her movements become jerky, frantic. Almost there. The next bite is a little less gentle, and she flies apart in my arms with a small scream. Her body spasms against mine for long minutes.
Fuck! I wish I could feel those pulses squeezing my cock. Just thinking about it brings me to the edge of my own release.
Keeping myself in check with superhuman effort, I lift my mouth and hand from her breasts and hold her close as her breath slows back to normal. I figure she won’t look at me for the remainder of the trip. She proves me right when she adjusts her bra and shirt while keeping her head down. When she’s done, I kiss the dimple in her chin, then nestle her head on my shoulder and rub her back.
“That was amazing, Brent,” she whispers against my neck. “Thank you. I can’t wait for the rest of it.”
My dick is throbbing in pain, but her soft words make it all worth it. I kiss the top of her head in response and hold her as she drifts into sleep.
Unfortunately, as good as she feels in my arms, I’m becoming more than a little uncomfortable, between my slouched position and the erection that refuses to give up hope as long as Joey is this close. As gently as possible, I ease her over so she’s lying on the sofa. She sighs and curls up without waking.
As for me, nothing is going to make me comfortable until I take care of my painful condition. I go to the lavatory, grateful that money can not only buy luxury but also privacy.