Take Me Completely (Cockpit Series Book 4)

by C. Lesbirel

  10

  Sullivan

  She strips down to her black lace thong with her perfect frame on full display. Goosebumps cover her flawless creamy skin despite the warm temperature of the room. This chick isn’t hot for her age. She’s smokin’ hot period.

  She eyes me with a shyness I didn’t see in her last night, and I wonder whether more whiskey is needed to loosen her up, but if we’re doing this then we might as well start off right, just as I like it. She needs to know what she’s getting herself into. My need for control exists in and outside of the cockpit.

  I step closer to her, so her naked tits are almost pressed against my chest. She inhales a sharp intake of breath. Her lips part, but I’m not going to kiss her. If we’re going to be fuck buddies, then I’ll take what I want when I want and let her do the same. No need for unnecessary sweet kisses and cuddles, just hot and heavy sex until she comes so hard that she begs for mercy, and my release comes with ease instead of having to fight my way to it. I don’t have an issue, if that’s what you’re thinking? I can get an erection easy enough, but it takes a lot for me to climax. With some women, it’s taken hours, and I’ve wondered if I’m ever going to get there. That’s what surprised me about Hope. Coming in unison is not something I’m used to, and I have to know, was it the alcohol inside me or something else?

  “All of it,” I murmur as I cup her pussy and slide two fingers upwards until I reach the string, giving it a quick ping that makes her flinch and me smile.

  “Can’t you turn around, or something?”

  “Why would I do that?”

  She rolls her wrist out in front of her as if the answer is obvious, but I disregard her. “Hope, are you forgetting I’ve already seen every inch of you?”

  “No. But, that’s different.”

  “Different how?”

  “Because, I’m practically sober.”

  “Are you saying you need to be drunk to go to Rome?”

  “I’m saying you’re being a little intense.”

  “Intense is good. I like intense. I think you will too. Now, take off those pretty little panties and bend over that piano right there so things can get really intense.”

  She does as she’s told and wriggles out of her panties, balling them up and throwing them at me to make the point. My cock swells at the sight of her cute Brazilian waiting patiently to be decimated by me.

  Her fine body saunters past, finding that confidence again and tiptoeing to reach over the piano. “Like this.” I stand behind her, positioning her right where I want her, face down on the top of the piano. Her chest is pressed against the cold hard wood of the piano top, and her ass almost brushes against my cock.

  “Whatever happens, just hold on. Okay?” I instruct, pulling a rubber from the back pocket of my jeans.

  She doesn’t answer.

  “Okay?” I say again.

  “I got it. I won’t let go... What if you hurt me?”

  “I won’t. I don’t want to cause you pain, Hope.”

  In three seconds, I step out of my jeans and boxers and flick them to the side with my foot and reassure her. “Tonight, is all about pleasure.”

  With a quick tear, I open the square packet then slide the condom down my length, but it rips.

  Shit.

  “Hurry up,” she moans out, still holding the exact position I told her to. Such a good girl.

  “Hold on.” I pull off my sweater and glance around the room for another, but I’m pretty sure that was my last.

  “I’m out of condoms.”

  “Fuck the condoms. I don’t want to wait around.”

  “But…”

  “Just pull out. Okay?”

  I forget the foreplay I so wanted to torture her with and give into the sight of her legs parted and her peachy ass staring at the end of my dick. I pump myself a few times and enter her without warning, loving that she’s wet enough for me to do so.

  “Aaagh,” she cries out as I fill her and begin thrusting in hard, fast jerks of my hips that cause her waist to slam into the edge of the piano.

  “Holy shit!” she screams out.

  “You’re right, I got carried away. Let me slow things down a notch.” I pull out and slap her ass hard enough to leave a red mark behind. She jumps, and I keep pumping myself as I stroke her pussy where my cock has just been, swirling the tip of a single finger over her clit then sliding it back down again.

  Teasing her.

  Making her want me so much that it drives her crazy.

  If she was anyone else, I’d make her beg for me on her fucking knees, but I don’t want to scare this bundle of perfection off. I do, however, want to have her at my beck and call. Whenever I want. It was what she’d offered, plus I’m more than happy to take it.

  “That feel good?”

  “It’s not enough,” she moans.

  “What do you want instead?” I demand to know, halting my movements to force an answer from her. She moves her hands, letting go of the piano to try to reach around and grab my thighs to pull me into her.

  I shuffle backwards. “Tell me what you want, Hope.”

  “Just more.”

  I slap her hard in the same place as last time, and she winces.

  “I told you not to move.”

  “And I told you, I want more,” she counters.

  I slide three fingers inside her, and she begins to pant, breathlessly.

  “That’s just teasing, and you promised Rome.”

  “Oh, Rome is coming, baby. I grin. I’m just building our empire. Remember, Rome wasn’t built in a day.”

  She groans out in frustration and knowing how desperate for a release she is has me slamming into her. I plan on taking her all the way to the brink and pulling out again to make her moan my name in hungry desperation, but she has other ideas. Her walls clench down on me so tightly I think my cock might explode. I am rendered powerless of doing anything other than giving her what she wants.

  What we both want.

  As I speed up my pace, she pushes back against me so hard that I climax before I can even think about stopping, and judging from the way the side of her face collapses against the piano top and her screams of pleasure, it’s obvious that her release was just as satisfying as my own.

  11

  Hope

  For the first time in a long while, I wake up feeling fresh and motivated. By the time Simon knocks on my door, I’m showered, dressed and ready to go.

  “Someone’s up early,” he remarks as I slide a tan suede jacket over my denim dress. It probably wasn’t warm enough for bare legs, but I put double socks on underneath my cowboy boots. I never let the weather decide what I wear. I’ve always been of the philosophy that when you’re a successful singer, the whole world becomes your stage, and you should totally dress accordingly. My hair is long and loose, thanks to my hair lady who had kindly straightened a bunch of extension sets for me before the tour. I love being able to just throw a few clips in and voilà, hair fit for a beauty queen with none of the effort.

  As we are walking through the hotel lobby toward the rental car, Simon slips in one of his depressing, “you want the good news or the bad news,” questions.

  “Just hit me with both, nothing is going to ruin my mood today.”

  “Okay. Bad news, I had to cancel your weekend off to fit in some extra meet and greets. Good news, they all sold out in under three minutes, and the reaction from the fans has been amazing.”

  “Please tell me you’re joking and that isn’t really the news.”

  “Not joking. You can thank me later, but right now we have a plane to catch.”

  I jump into the black Jaguar then he hops into the back seat next to me. As always, the team has already left and will probably be making their way through security right about now.

  “Why would you do that? You know how much I was looking forward to going home for the weekend.”

  “I just added thousands of dollars to your tour, yet that’s all you have to
say? Jesus, Hope. You would have killed for this a few years ago.”

  “That was then. Things are different now, and you know it.”

  “Let me see,” he mumbles, scrolling through his phone and shaking his head. “Nope, there’s no filter to fix that cranky pout. You’ll have to go au naturelle.”

  “For what? And I’m not cranky, by the way. At least, I wasn’t until this conversation.”

  “Shhh, we’re going live. I need to update your Instagram stories.”

  “With what, how we’re sitting in the back of a car and I’m pissed with you? Pretty sure the fans won’t mind skipping that update.”

  “Just give me a little something, and then I’ll leave you alone until rehearsal. Except for our collaboration meeting this afternoon.”

  “What meeting?”

  “Go,” he whispers, flashing his phone in my face, forcing me to smile a wide smile.

  “Good morning, dolls. I’m just checking in on my way to the airport. Where are my Madrid fans? We’re coming for you, so be ready to have a good time.” I throw a peace sign. When his hand forms a thumbs up to signal the live feed disconnect my face falls in frustration. Automatically, my eyes roll as he plays around on his phone to check how many people are commenting.

  “See, you have fifty reactions already, you’re perfect.”

  “What meeting do we have?”

  “The collab with Soul Denim. It’s going to be fun. You get to play dress up in a bunch of cute clothes, post a few pictures wearing them, and all you need to do is say how they are your favorite pants to wear when your song writing.”

  “Song writing? The opportunity would be something to celebrate.”

  “What about after your shows? You haven’t been going out the last few nights. I thought that’s what you’d been up to?”

  “So, you think I perform to a sold-out arena then come back to an empty hotel room and just hash out a bunch of new songs? It’s like you think I’m a machine or something. You know all the best country songs are about experiences. Real life. They have heart, Simon. You can’t just come up with that. If you want new songs, you’re going to have to let me live a little.”

  “You just focus on doing what you do and lookin’ pretty on stage. Let me worry about the music. Trish Records called the other day with a bunch of new stuff. I’ll listen to it, send you a few of the best, and we can go from there.”

  I open the car door and jump out at Fiumicino Airport in Rome without another word. We are clearly on a different page when it comes to what I want and what makes good music.

  It’s a struggle to keep my composure through the airport as I battle with myself trying to find a solution to the problem. I don’t know what needs to change, all I know is that I can’t carry on like this.

  When I reach the plane, Sullivan is standing at the bottom of the stairs waiting to greet everyone. I watch as he wishes everyone good morning from behind his sunglasses, but I’m confident his eyes are on me the entire time. “Good morning, Miss Carson,” he says as I come closer to him. Is he just another in my ever-growing collection of screw ups? Possibly. He didn’t feel like it last night, but in the cold light of day, I have to question what I’m doing with him. When did I give up on the fairy-tale and become a friends-with-benefits kind of girl?

  “Hey.” I force a smile and walk past. It was good to see him, and one thing I did like about our little arrangement is that it’s one secret I do get to keep. Something, possibly the only thing that’s just for me right now. More than ever I feel like that’s exactly what I need to survive this madness.

  As we board the plane, I take a seat at the back, away from my team and stuff my air pods in to avoid conversation until we get closer to Spain. A few minutes later, as the tarmac disappears from underneath us and is replaced by clouds, I slouch back into the cream leather seat and let my mind wander to last night.

  To midnight blue eyes.

  Wandering hands.

  And all at once, the lyrics begin to flow.

  12

  Sullivan

  “So, how was your day?” I run a hand over the curve of her spine as she lies face down on my bed. Exhausting, by the look of it. It had been twelve shows in twelve different countries since we agreed to become fuck buddies. Honestly, I’ve been questioning what the hell it is we’re doing because I’ve had fuck buddies before, although they never affected me the way Hope does.

  “You know how I told you how Simon tried to get me to go topless on that photo shoot for Soul Denim a few weeks ago?”

  “Mmm,” I murmur, recalling the way my blood had boiled, and I’d wanted to rip his head off after she told me what happened.

  “It was the same thing today with that bikini shoot we were supposed to be doing.”

  “I hope you told him where he can fuck off to?”

  “I feel a bit like there’s not much point. He just keeps lining up these collaborations. He says building my social media platforms is the only way I’m going to get my songs out to new listeners.”

  “Is that what you want? To do whatever it takes? I mean, it’s one way of doing things for sure, but I didn’t get the impression it would have been yours when I saw you on stage for the first time.”

  “What do you mean for the first time? You say that like there’s been other times?”

  “No. I didn’t mean it like that.” I jump up from the bed and pace the bedroom floor.

  “Oh my God, look at you all agitated.” She grins at me. “Have you seen me perform more than once?”

  “Maybe.”

  “You so have! How many times? Which shows did you come to?”

  “I’m not doing this. You’ll get all weird about it.”

  “I won’t, just tell me. Pinkie promise not to judge.” She holds out her little finger, so I grab a pillow and toss it at her.

  “What if I said every single one.”

  “Since when?” She tosses the pillow back at me and misses.

  “Since your first one. I’m a super fan.”

  She eyes me with suspicion, and I chuckle. “Kidding. Obviously, do I look like the type of guy who goes to country gigs?”

  “Well, apparently so.” She shrugs her shoulders and smiles a smug smile.

  “Oh, you’re loving this. Aren’t you?”

  “Am not.”

  “Are too.”

  “Does this mean anything? Should I be worried?”

  “About what, me catching feelings? I don’t think so.”

  “You sure you’re not going all mushy on me?”

  “A promise is a promise. No feelings,” I assure her, but even saying the words out loud feels wrong somehow. Have I been secretly hoping for more this whole time? It was supposed to be her that caught feelings. She’s the chick, not me. Yet here I am going to all of her concerts just so I can try to understand her better. I only hope telling her doesn’t make her run a mile away because I’m not done exploring what this could be. I don’t think for a second that it’s as straightforward as she’s trying to make it seem.

  “Sorry, I need to take this,” I say as my phone starts blasting out the James Bond theme tune.

  She rolls her eyes, falling back onto my bed and starfishing across it as I pick up the call to my twin sister, Shiloh, who is probably the only person I’d let interrupt my night with Hope.

  “What’s up, sis?”

  “What’s up is I’m fucking pregnant!” she hollers down the phone loud enough for Hope to hear, and I move over to the kitchen area, feeling awkward.

  “What? With who? I thought you weren’t seeing anyone.”

  “I’m not,” she replies, sounding tearful as her voice cracks.

  “Okay, alright. Let’s talk things through. Don’t get upset.”

  I’ll kill him. If anyone has dared to fuck my sister, get her pregnant and then leave her. I’ll ruin them.

  More sobs and inaudible words come my way. “I’m not trying to be a smartass here, but you’re going to have to br
eak this down for me. There must have been someone if you’re pregnant; you’re not the virgin Mary.” My fingers curl to fists as I grow agitated, needing to know what the fuck is going on.

  “Remember at Christmas? I told you about my boyfriend…”

  “Mountain man? I thought you left him?”

  “I did.”

  “Does he know about the baby?”

  “No, I didn’t even know about the baby.” She sobs.

  “Shiloh, you’re going to have to clue me in here because I’m confused. Whatever happens, I’m here for you. I just need you to tell me what the hell is going on.”

  I glance to Hope, who out of courtesy to me is pretending not to be listening to my heavy conversation. This is so not what she signed up for, but I can worry about that later. Right now, my sister needs me, and that comes first. She’s my twin. When she’s hurting, so am I.

  “I had a miscarriage, right before our family Christmas at the cabin. I wasn’t going to come, but I didn’t want to be on my own and thought being around everyone might help take my mind off things.”

  “Shit, I knew you were being weird at Christmas. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I was still trying to understand it myself. We had broken up, so I was thinking if I just didn’t tell anyone, everything would go back to normal.”

  “Why did you break up?”

  “I figured if he couldn’t be there for me when I lost a baby, then there wasn’t much hope for the future. Maybe he just couldn’t handle it, I think it was too much for him.”

  She has got to be fucking kidding me. She lost a baby, and it was too much for him? What was it about this guy that’s got her like this? I’ve never seen her so hooked on anyone.

  “But you said you’re pregnant?”

  “I just found out.” She sniffles. “I didn’t know who else to call.”

  “So, who is this guy?”

  “It’s the same guy. Since the miscarriage, I’ve been having weird symptoms. Bleeding and cramping. I’ve had a lot of sickness, too. At first, I thought it was because of the baby I lost, but I got checked out because it didn’t seem to be going away.”