Virgin Flyer

I pushed the thoughts away, because they made me feel nervous and scared. If my subconscious thought there was a chance Chris was being deliberately manipulative, I didn’t want to hear about it or face it.

I closed my eyes and shook my head, hoping to clear it of any more unhelpful revelations. A warm hand clasped the back of my neck and squeezed. I opened my eyes to see Jack’s concern in the divot between his eyebrows. Without thinking, I crawled over into his lap and curled against his chest.

“I gotta go, Chris,” I said. “We’re, um… I mean I… I’m meeting the pilot and his wife for dinner.”

It was a total lie. My face flooded with heat, and I tried like hell to ignore Jack’s body tensing beneath mine.

“Yeah, no problem. I’m heading out to meet Hannah and Jay for a beer. Will you still be home tomorrow? I miss you.”

That was the second time he’d said such a thing to me recently. I felt like I was in an alternate universe where I was suddenly having sex and Chris was now showing affection and interest in me. The phrase Absence makes the heart grow fonder kept spinning through my head on a loop. Was that what this was?

“That’s the plan.” My voice sounded weird and squeaky, but then again, I always freaked out a little when thinking of getting on that plane again. Okay, a lot.

“Let me know when you get in.”

When the call ended, I realized he’d never said a single word about my fear of flying or asked me if I was scared about the return flight after everything that had happened. That was disappointing, mostly because my fear of flying had been a strong presence between us growing up. In middle school, Chris had once invited me to join his family for a trip to the beach in Florida, and I’d said no because it required a plane flight. In college, he’d invited me to join his friends for a trip to Mexico. Again, I’d declined because of the flights required. I was a chickenshit, and it was embarrassing. But now I’d finally, finally done it. I’d gotten on a plane, for him, for the company, and it had lost a damned engine and had to emergency land in a tiny town on the coast of Canada. And he hadn’t acknowledged any of it.

“Whatever,” I muttered, putting my phone on the coffee table and nestling back against Jack’s chest. “Hey, do we still have any of that rum?”

Jack’s hands moved into my hair and began working their magic. He didn’t answer my question about the rum, but he used his fingers to distract me.

“Do you want to talk about it?” His deep voice rumbled through his chest, making me want to beg him for more. I didn’t care what he said as long as it rumbled against me in that sexy as hell way.

“No.” I sounded like a child, but then again, I felt like a child. When would I be old enough and wise enough to stop having unrealistic expectations of people?

Jack continued playing with my hair until I was half in love with him. I’d always craved physical affection, and having it for the first time was one of the most eye-opening realizations about what I’d been missing by not allowing myself to connect with other people romantically this whole time.

“That feels so good. Please don’t stop.” Don’t ever stop is what I wanted to say, but I at least still had enough self-control not to blurt out all of my thoughts.

“Are we meeting Nate and Brenda for dinner?” Jack asked hesitantly. I felt like an ass for my lie on the phone.

“Not that I know of,” I said without looking up at him. I let out a sigh. “I couldn’t bring myself to tell him I needed to go so I could beg a sexy pilot to fuck me over the desk again.”

“Mm. The tips of your ears are pink. Methinks you’re not used to using such sexual language, sweet newbie.”

“Maybe so. And also, I can’t actually get fucked again tonight without possibly needing medical attention.” I’d meant it as a joke, but Jack shifted until he held my face in both hands. The concern in his eyes made my throat tighten.

“Are you hurting?”

I shook my head. “Not too bad, but I might if we pushed it. Is… is that okay? I’m sorry if—”

He pulled me in for a hard kiss, shutting me up quite effectively and erasing all memory of whatever it was we’d been talking about. By the time we came up for air, my lips were tender and my dick had been sucked. Somehow, he’d managed to come too, but I wasn’t sure how.

I was laid out buck naked on the bed—with the exception of one sock still on my foot—and Jack was whistling a tune as his own naked ass headed toward the bathroom.