The Hangover

by Lively, R. S.

  I love chaos.

  “We don’t have much time until we get the airport, Cherry.”

  I swallow, knowing what he wants me to do. His belt falls open, revealing the button and zipper and behind it, his large bulge tenting his pants. I make a vice with my fist, stroking his manhood over the pants. He moans, running his fingers through my styled hair and messing it up, sending my body into a shaking fury.

  Looking up at him with unsure eyes, I unbutton his trousers. The pants fall, and my pussy soaks my panties when I see his cock straining mightily against his underwear. I lick my lips and lean forward, plucking the head from the clutch of his grey underwear, clutching the material that hugs the base of his impressive size in my hands. Logan’s long, cut cock winks at me and as I stare it leaks a bead of pre-come.

  His cock is long and straight, coming from a well-trimmed blonde patch. His sack is a pink nude color, a little different from the golden hue of his flesh. The crown looks angry from how much blood has pooled in his staff—the veins pulse, matching to the beat of his heart.

  I lean in, but he yanks my head back, stopping me from wrapping my lips around his delicious cock. I whimper, wishing he would let me do what I want.

  “I don’t want your mouth.”

  His words flow over my skin, making the hairs stand all over my body. He leans back, laying down on the floor of the car, taking me with him. I settle over him, but he stops me, reaching into his pocket and taking another condom out. The foil rips and this time, I take the condom out of the wrapper, rolling the condom down his steel rod. I lift the tulle from my dress, gathering it in my hands use his cock to push my panties aside. He slides in with no effort because I’m so wet.

  “Ride me, Cherry.”

  Heat travels to my face from his words. “I’ve never—”

  “Anything you do will feel amazing. It’s us.”

  My heart warms from his admission, and I rock my hips forward, moaning when he hits that spot deep inside me. I reach for the top of the car, flattening my hands against it and using the leverage to push my body down more, gyrating my hips over his cock.

  “That’s it. Ride that cock. Fuck yeah,” he growls, flexing his hips to bury his cock further inside me. “Faster, Cherry. We only have a few more minutes. I want you to come.”

  I pick up the pace, bouncing on him as quick as I can. One of his hands disappears under the fluff of my dress and latches onto my clit. He spins the gem between his fingers, making me cry out.

  “Logan!” I gasp as the familiar warmth spreads throughout my entire body, and the butterflies flap around in my stomach, letting me know my orgasm is approaching.

  “That’s it. You’re about to come, aren’t you? I feel your walls squeezing me. You’re so tight. Fuck, you’re going to make me come so hard.”

  His words set me off like a rocket, and if it weren’t for the roof of the car, I’m pretty sure I would have launched into space when the power of my orgasm makes me lose focus on my rhythm. My back meets the seat as I bend backward, but I bend too far, causing his cock to slide out of me. I’m still orgasming, rocking my hips on his trousers, and the material scratches my sensitive clit, prolonging the ecstasy even more.

  He cries out, leaving my ears ringing from the sound waves hitting the scotch glass over the mini bar. I watch in fascination as the bubble on top of his condom fills with thick, white cream. It overflows the divot, and the seed starts flowing down his length, stopping at the thick barrier that surrounds the base of his erection.

  “Cherry,” he drawls out as he strokes his dick a few times, making sure to get every drop out of that big muscle.

  I bite my lip and laugh when I glance out the window to see the airport coming into view. “Right on time.”

  “That’s my girl,” he winks, lifting me off him.

  His fingers pinch the condom, making sure none of his come leaks out as he ties it off, wraps it in a paper towel, and tosses it in the trashcan. He tucks himself back in his pants, and I pout, wishing we were lying in bed, naked, so I can look at him anytime I want. Logan is the most handsome man I have ever seen. I don’t think I could ever stop admiring the details of his face and body.

  “You’re staring.”

  “Don’t be so pretty, then.”

  “So you say I’m asking for it?”

  I smooth my dress down and cross my legs. “Yeah, you’re practically a walking talking sex ad, you should be used to it by now.”

  “I’ll never get used to how you look at me, Whitley Pope.”

  He leans forward, placing his hands on either side of me, laying them flat on the seat. Once again, he envelopes me tightly in his arms.

  “And how do I look at you, Logan Stone?” My eyes dart back and forth over his brown eyes.

  “Like I’m the only man in existence.”

  I sigh, placing my hand on his face. He seems vulnerable and a little nervous. I’ve noticed that he shows a little more of who he is every day we’re together. Inside and out, he is beautiful. But he thinks he has to be this tough businessman, made of stone—no pun intended—to be successful. I think if he were to open his heart to more people, he could be even more successful.

  “Logan, when will you see that you are?”

  He closes his eyes, and he tilts his head, leaning into my touch before kissing my palm. “I want to show you the world. When I said to pick a place, I was ready for us to go to Egypt or something, not Vegas.”

  “You didn’t specify that the offer was open internationally,” I joke, poking him in the chest.

  “I said anywhere.”

  “You should have been more specific!”

  “More specific than anywhere? It means anywhere.” He waves his hands in front of him, putting a big ol’ smile on my face.

  The car comes to a stop, and since we aren’t buckled in, we fly forward, tumbling on the ground. Again, I’m on top of him, but I’m completely clothed this time. Pity.

  “Oh, well, hello again. Fancy seeing you here,” he grins and laces his arms behind his head. “You look so good up there.”

  I circle my hips around, and his soft cock bends and rolls with my every move. I giggle from teasing him and then I hop off, opening the door.

  The engines from the airplanes roar overhead. Since we are on the landing strip, where Logan’s plane is parked, the airplanes depart right over my head. I swear, I saw the nuts and bolts of the one that just took off. My dress blows from the turbulent breeze caused by the immense power from the engines.

  Logan steps out of the car looking well-debauched. The black tie still hangs around his neck untied, but instead of looking like a wreck, he looks like a model. It isn’t fair for him to look that good all the time.

  “You’re doing it again,” he says, never taking his eyes off the jet.

  “As if you don’t like it.”

  “I like everything you do.”

  “Now, now. Don’t go spoiling our evening with lies, Mr. Stone.”

  The car peels away, disappearing down the street where we just came from, vanishing into the darkness.

  “I’d never lie to you. I don’t think I have it in me to do that to you.”

  The weight of his words hit me in the chest hard, like a bag of bricks knocking me off-balance. I catch myself and take his offered hand, following him to his plane. It’s parked right in front of us, in the center of the hangar. Aside from the roars from planes taking off, everything seems to be quiet. There isn’t anyone around.

  “Uh, Logan. Where is everyone?”

  He presses a button, and the door opens, releasing the stairs, so we can enter the plane. “About that. It’s just us.”

  I pause mid-step and whip my head around to look into his eyes. “Um, what?”

  “Yeah, my pilot’s in the hospital with his wife right now. She just went into labor. I sent him a huge bonus, enough to send his kid to college. Pretty happy for him. They’ve been trying for a long time. So this kid is kind of a miracle. Anyway,
” he says as he slaps my ass, changing the subject like it’s nothing. “Let’s get going.”

  “That’s sweet, and I’m glad you treat your employees so well—but Logan. How are we getting from Point A to Point B without a pilot?”

  He says nothing, just twirls his finger and points to the plane, telling me to go inside.

  I finally ascend the steps and make it inside the plane. I have to admit—and this is my first time being on a private jet, or even a plane in general—I want to live on it already. The seats are huge and luxurious, and when I run my hand over them, the leather is like butter. There is a bar to the side, and it looks like the cabin holds around ten people. Embossed into the leather is the logo ‘Stone Enterprises,’ making his jet that much more legitimate.

  “I’m your pilot for this evening. I’d wanted to sit back and relax with you, but since my pilot can’t come, you’ll have to deal with me,” Logan states, as if that isn’t supposed to scare the shit out of me.

  “Logan. You can’t be serious.” I follow him to the front of the plane. He even sits down in the driver’s seat. Is that what’s it called for a pilot? I don’t know!

  “Cherry, it’s fine. I’m a certified pilot. I can get us there in one piece. Buckle up, okay?”

  I blink away the shock and lean back in the chair to tighten the belt around my waist. When he flicks a few switches, the plane comes to life. The switches light up, green and red, some are even orange. He continues flipping things I have no idea about, and then his words echo in the back of my mind. “You’re a pilot?”

  “Yep.”

  “Of course you are.” The plane starts to move back. I grip the seat for dear life.

  “I don’t know if your lack of faith should hurt my feelings or not.”

  “No, it’s not that. It’s a fact you’re perfect in every aspect of life,” I sigh with a little annoyance. Can’t he be bad at anything? It’s both very sexy and maddening at the same time.

  “I am not. I’ll have you know that I can’t juggle, or do complicated math in my head, or pat my head and rub my belly at the same time. Can’t remember dates worth a damn. Can’t chug a beer without getting sick. I have to have my movies in alphabetical order, which is maddening because I have to move every movie down a spot when I get a new one, love waffles and hate pancakes, failed my MCAT, and I’m a sucker for puppies.”

  “You took the MCAT? For what?”

  “Oh, I just wanted to see if I could pass it. I didn’t want to be a doctor or anything.”

  “Overachiever.”

  He gives me smirk, showing that damn dimple that makes my heart fly. “Damn straight.”

  We pull onto the runaway, and the engines get louder as we roll down the strip. Before I know it, we’re in the air, and I’m looking out the windshield, getting a panoramic view of the stars.

  Logan

  We take a cab to downtown Vegas, and Whitley’s face is against the glass, staring at everything as if we have arrived on another planet. I mean, I guess Vegas is another planet. Everyone and everything here is from another dimension. She is going to be shocked when she sees that the magazine holds on the side of the street aren’t magazines, but ads for prostitutes and strippers.

  I glance at my Rolex, seeing that it’s barely nine o’clock. We have the rest of the night. Things are just now starting to get good here. A few minutes later, we pull up to The Venetian, my favorite hotel and casino on the strip. A bellhop runs out, opening the door for Whitley. She practically tumbles out because her face was smashed against the glass.

  “First time?” the bellhop asks in a flirtatious tone.

  Whitley, being the fair-skinned beauty that she is, blushes at the double meaning of his statement. I walk around and place my arms around her, laying my claim. “If you want a tip, I suggest not moving your mouth in front of us—ever again.”

  He gulps, nodding as he shuts the door and the taxi takes off into the busy, bustling street of Las Vegas—Sin City, baby!

  “Be nice. He didn’t mean anything by it.”

  “He meant everything by it,” I grumble, placing my hand on her lower back and stepping into the lobby. Her jaw drops when she sees the expansive structure. This is why it is my favorite place in Vegas. The floors are made up of white, black, and brown diamonds. I’m not sure of the stone, but on each side of the room are huge marble pillars with golden accents. The ceiling is by far the best thing. It is high and arched with intricate designs carved into the stone. In the middle sits a white statue with women sculpted in it, reminding me of mermaids. They have a variety of high-end shops in here as well. Any luxury brand you can think of: Louis Vuitton, Coach, Jimmy Choo, and Guerlain—just to name a few. They also have gondola rides. I’ve always wanted to do it, but I’ve never been here with a significant other before, so I’ve never had the chance. It isn’t Venice or anything, but you can take the small boat around the Grand Canal and float under balconies and Venetian streetscapes as the gondolier sing to you, setting the romantic mood in a sweet serenade.

  Whitley squeals when we make it to the front desk, feeling the desk like it’s made out of rare stone. “Wow. I’m in Vegas.” She shuffles on her feet and shakes her head, doing a little happy dance.

  I smile and lean over the counter. “I’m here checking into my suite. Mr. Logan Stone.” The front desk concierge’s eyes widen when I say my name.

  “Of course, Mr. Stone. Let me get your cards.”

  I own the penthouse suite, but they change the scanner on the door every week to maintain security, so the cards are different every time.

  “You own a suite here?”

  She sounds so annoyed right now, but in a good way, like things just get better and better with me. It’s exactly the reaction I wanted. “Yep.”

  “You’re going to have to stop saying ‘yes’ and give reasonable answers.”

  “I have money. I know what I want. So I buy it.” I tap my fingers on the desk, waiting for the lady to return.

  It’s like the wind gets knocked back in her sails when Whitley hits her forehead with her hand. “Duh, billionaire. Silly, me.”

  “Here you go, Mr. Stone.”

  I reach over and take the silver-plated cards out of her hand. “We aren’t going to be up there for a while. I was hoping someone could bring up some pajamas. The store doesn’t matter. She is a small on top, medium on bottom. I’m medium on bottom, large on top.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll have that taken care of right away.”

  “Thank you.” I turn to my beautiful date. “Would you like to explore the city?”

  She nods so hard I’m afraid her head is about to bob off. “I know this is inconvenient, but can I get a pair of flats? My feet hurt so bad.”

  I glance down to see that she still hasn’t put her shoes on, and her little toes are red from being pinched in the heel. “Anything you want, Cherry. Let’s go see what they have?”

  She squeals again, making me wince when my ear rings. “Sorry, I’m so excited. I don’t know how to let it all out.”

  My eyes soften. I can imagine what taking her out of the country will be like. I’m going to have to get earplugs. She rushes ahead of me into the first store she sees, which is Coach and she ends up falling in love with a pair of light purple flats with the gold Coach emblem on top. She winces when she sees the price tag and puts them back.

  “You like these?” I ask.

  “Yeah, but Logan,” she leans in and whispers. “They are two hundred dollars. That’s ridiculous.”

  I blink a few times. I don’t understand the issue. I turn to a sales associate. “Can we get these in size seven, please? Charge it to the Penthouse Suite.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Logan! You can’t do that all the time.”

  “Do what?”

  “Get me whatever I want.”

  “Yes, I can.”

  She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. The stubborn is coming out. “No, you can’t. I can’t ever pay you
back.”

  “Whitley, I don’t ever want you to. I can do this for you, easily. I make two hundred dollars every minute. It's nothing.”

  “You make twelve thousand dollars an hour?”

  I think it over for a minute. “No, that can’t be right.”

  Her shoulder sags with relief. “Whew, good.”

  “I make that every thirty minutes.”

  I try to hide my smile when her mouth drops and she wraps her arms around her waist, something she does when she feels insecure. I wrap my arms around her and kiss the tip of her nose.

  “Relax and be with me, okay? I know you aren’t with me for my money. If anything, it’s probably your least favorite thing about me, but you date a guy who has money, so get used to it.”

  “You’re dating a waitress, Logan. A waitress.”

  “I’m dating a future law student who is smart, passionate, caring, funny, and stubborn, and she just so happens to be a waitress right now, yes. I don’t care about that. It makes me feel damn good to provide for you, so just let me, okay?”

  The sales associate comes out a minute later, a box in hand. I take it from her, kneel on the floor and slip the shoes on Whitley’s feet like she is Cinderella. At least, she is to me. After they are on and fit perfectly on her feet, I take the heels from her fingers, where she is holding them by the straps, and place them in the Coach box. “Can you have these sent to the room?”

  “Of course, sir.”

  She squeals again. “I love them!”

  “And they say money can’t buy happiness,” I wink.

  Her smile fades when she laces our hands together. “I’m only this happy because it was you that bought them. I don’t care about the money, Logan.”

  I grin, cupping her face with my right hand, and devour her mouth with a kiss. I slide my tongue between her lips, tasting a bit of champagne from a few hours ago.

  “What do you want to experience first?”

  She shakes her head, her eyes twinkling. She looks so giddy.

  “I’d love to play blackjack! I’ve never played.”