by Whitney G.
“I thought I wanted to see you.” He shook his head. “But now that you’ve once again decided that you can literally make even the most pointless conversations ten times more pointless, I’ve come to my senses. See you Friday in New York. E4.” He headed toward the door.
“Did you not hear any of what I said?” I scoffed. “We’re over. Done. I won’t be there.”
“Jesus, Gillian.” He groaned, still walking. “I get the goddamn point. Can I leave the room before you say anything else?”
“You’ll regret this someday…” I muttered under my breath, but he turned around.
“The only thing I regret is that I never got the chance to see your talkative-ass-mouth swallow something other than words.”
My jaw dropped.
“Yes.” He looked me up and down before slamming the door. “Yes, I really fucking said that.”
I stared at the door seconds after it shut.
Upset that he’d gotten the last word, I rushed over to open it, to hurl one last zinger at him as he left, but when I opened the door, he wasn’t walking to the elevators. He was standing right in front of me.
His mouth immediately latched onto mine and he picked me up, forcing me to wrap my legs around him. The door slammed behind us both and our lips fought for control, he growled against my mouth.
“You talk so fucking much, Gillian…So fucking much…” He tore his mouth away from mine and tossed me onto the bed.
My bath towel fell off, exposing my body and he pulled his shirt over his head—revealing abs that still made me bite my lip whenever I saw them.
Still glaring at me, he began to unbuckle his pants, but I moved closer to the edge of the bed and grabbed his wrist.
“Let me,” I said, my voice more demanding than normal.
He raised his eyebrow at my tone, but he moved his hand away.
Pulling his belt through the loops, I let it fall to the floor and unzipped his pants. I slowly pushed his briefs down a bit, letting his hardened cock free, and without hesitating another second, I slowly covered the head of it with my mouth.
He groaned, grabbing a fistful of my hair as I slowly sucked his cock deeper into my mouth, as I let it hit the back of my throat. I moved my mouth up and down his length, darting my tongue against his tip each time I pulled back.
“Fuck, Gillian…” He looked down at me, his eyes glazed over, his lips parted.
Relishing the control I had over him, I gripped the base of his cock with my hand and teased him with the pressure as his muscles tensed.
My mouth continued to move over his cock, my saliva coating every inch of skin, and both his hands were in my hair—gently attempting to control my rhythm.
He said my name again, harsh and guttural and I slid my free hand between his legs as he shut his eyes. I pressed the pad of my fingertips against his balls and massaged them—earning another low groan from him.
I started to take him deep again, but he suddenly pulled me back—letting his cock slip from my lips.
“I’m about to come…” he said, his eyes dark and heated. “So, if you’re—”
I didn’t let him finish. I wrapped my mouth around his cock again, letting him grip my hair once more, letting him roughly guide me back and forth.
He whispered curses as his thickness swelled against my jaws, and as his leg muscles tensed one last time, warm come slashed against the back of my throat. I gripped his legs as the rest of it came, swallowing every drop until he was finished.
When I was sure that was all, I looked up at him and noticed he was staring at me. I opened my mouth to say something, but he pressed his finger against mine before I could get a single word out.
“Not right now,” he said. He pulled me up and onto the bed, locking me in his arms as he kissed my lips.
He ran his hands against my bare back and whispered. “Even if I do like you…”
“I think you do.”
“Shut up, Gillian.” He bit me. “Even if I do like you—which I don’t, you’re going to have to come up with a much better reason than that to get me to stop fucking you…” He ran his fingers through my hair, and I felt his cock hardening against my thigh.
“I can deal with one broken rule,” he said, lifting me up and slowly sliding me onto him. “As long as you can agree that it’ll be our ‘only one’?” He gripped my hips, not waiting for a response, and he fucked me harder than he ever had for the rest of the night.
Gate B22
Gillian
Los Angeles (LAX)
* * *
“It’s a CR-9,” I said, hours later. “Easy.”
“Close.” Jake pulled me closer. “It’s an MD-88.”
“Four out of five isn’t bad.”
“You’ve only gotten four out of twenty, Gillian.” He smiled. “That’s terrible.”
It was four in the morning and we were laying on the roof of a private, charter airport across the city. Much to his insistence, and after we both agreed that we were restless after three rounds of sex tonight, he said he “had an idea” and ordered a luxury cab to bring us here.
He’d held my face and kissed me the entire ride, causing butterflies to flutter against my stomach, forcing the driver to shut the partition.
“If this was a couple of years ago—” I turned on my side and looked into his eyes. “I would’ve gotten every single one of them right.”
“Why a couple years ago?”
“Because I used to write about planes and the aviation industry for the paper. Not all the time, but a couple times a month.”
He was quiet, running his fingers through my hair. “Why did you quit?”
“I didn’t quit. I was fired.”
He looked surprised. “For slander?”
“For the truth.”
“Hmmm.” He trailed a finger across my lips. “Did it have anything to do with Elite, or he who shall never be named between us?”
“No,” I said. “It was personal. Someone burned me, so I burned them back.”
“How mature.”
I changed the subject. “What were you doing a couple years ago?”
“Flying.”
“Is this all you’ve ever done?”
“Yes.”
“Jake…” I sighed. “Do you see how when you ask me questions, I elaborate, but when I ask you, you give me one word answers?”
“Then maybe you should ask better questions.”
“Fine. Why didn’t you tell my supervisor on me after the night I left your apartment?”
“Because there would be no purpose in doing that.” He looked at me. “I also found you very amusing and wanted to see you again.”
“Okay. Why do you have to have your TVs and coffee table replaced every few weeks? I remember all the work orders, even right before we met…Why do they break so often?”
“Faulty engineering.”
I blinked and he smiled, pulling me on top of him.
“I used to have problems sleeping. That’s all.”
“Used to? That wasn’t that long ago, Jake. Aren’t you still having problems?”
“Shockingly no.” His blew a warm kiss against my skin. “Not since I’ve been in whatever the hell this is with you.” He didn’t give me a chance to ask a follow up question. “What else did you do in my apartment?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, why did you feel the need to reroute my security cameras and make them run a loop? What were you doing?”
“Nothing.” I pressed my head down against his chest, right on top of his beating heart. “I stole books from your library before, though.”
“I’m aware. I always noticed. Is that it?”
“I also used to sleep naked on your living room couch.”
He laughed. “And in my bedroom?”
I nodded, and he playfully slapped my ass.
“I know that Nathaniel Pearson is your real father, Jake,” I said softly, letting the words rush out of my mouth.
“That makes two of us.”
“I looked up old family pictures and you’re not in any of them…Why did they erase you like that? And I mean, why haven’t you said anything? You’re the son of a billionaire CEO. Is that where your money comes from?”
“No.” He didn’t elaborate any further. He simply rubbed his hands up and down my back, massaging me in a firm way that said, “Stop this.”
“Just say you’ll tell me one day,” I murmured. “If we last longer.”
“I’ll think about telling you one day.”
“Well, whenever that ‘one day’ is, I would like it to be the same day you take me out on a date.”
His hand immediately stopped their pleasurable rhythm. “What?”
“A real date with flowers, dinner, and—”
“Everything we originally agreed not to do.”
“Yes,” I said.
“Gillian…” He sighed. “I’d prefer if we didn’t break any more rules.”
“And I’d prefer if you actually talked to me, but I’m clearly not going to get that, so this is a compromise.”
He didn’t say anything for a long while, but his hands eventually returned to my back, and we didn’t speak until the sun began to rise.
When our ride returned, he tossed me over his shoulder and carried me downstairs and placed me into the backseat. He positioned my head in his lap, and I slept as the car slowly trudged through early morning L.A. traffic.
When we arrived back to my hotel, he walked me into my room and tucked me under the covers—holding back a laugh as I attempted to fight my exhaustion and convince him to stay.
I thought that he would stay another day, since he had two more nights before he had to fly out from Hawaii, but when I woke up, he was gone.
The only remnant of his presence was his watch box on my nightstand. I flipped it open, coming face to face with yet another Audemars Piguet. I ran my fingers across its sparkling crystals and sighed. I pulled out my phone to text him and tell him he’d left it, but it fell to the floor once I saw the massive white and red flower bouquet sitting by the door.
Shocked, I walked over and opened the small silver envelope that was attached and read the note.
* * *
This never happened.
And the watch is yours.
—Jake.
Gate B23
Jake
Hawaii (HNL) --> Dallas (DAL) --> New York (JFK)
I need a drink…
My head was throbbing in pain after piloting two turbulent flights back to back, Gillian was starting to call and text me whenever she felt like it, and I was seconds away from walking out of this simulator session. To make matters worse, the Elite Airways circus was back in full swing—gaining front page stories in all the major papers and placing promotional interviews on damn near every news station.
My father, ever the attention whore, was now the first airline CEO to host a “flying media tour.” He was allowing journalists from every paper to board his new Dreamliner—to write glowing reviews of the plane as he flew along with them and plied them with lies. He was reported as saying things like, “Yes, this is the plane I’m the proudest of,” “My family still hasn’t flown in it yet,” and “Yes. Yes, I think Sarah would’ve loved this one.”
It wasn’t until I read that last quote that I realized that he pulled this media frenzy shit at the exact same time every year. It was probably how he dealt with the guilt of getting away with his numerous lies, how he dealt with being destined for Hell.
I stopped myself from reading the remainder of the articles and put my phone in my pocket. I pulled out a new crossword puzzle, but before I could start it, the simulator session ended with a jerk that almost knocked me out of my chair, damn near slamming me against the windscreen.
Annoyed, I looked ahead at the results screen.
“Congratulations again, Ryan,” I said. “You’ve killed everyone again, but at least this time you crashed on the ground, so all of us will get to have our body parts in our caskets.”
“You’re not helping me learn, sir,” he said, teary eyed just like last time. “Would it kill you to actually give me some advice?”
I unbuckled my seatbelt. “Fly better next time.”
“With all due respect, could you tell me something that will actually help?”
“How about learn how to read?” I stood up and tossed the operations manual for the Airbus 321 at him. “You’re making the same emergency protocol mistakes because you’re treating this like a damn CR-9. Try memorizing chapters seven through thirty. Is that helpful enough?”
He nodded and I rolled my eyes, stepping out of the tube. I walked through the hangar—past the other simulators, ignoring the supervisor who was shaking his head at me.
I made it to the parking lot and opened my car door, but I heard a familiar, ugly voice calling my name.
“Jake! Jake!” Evan stopped a few feet short of me, forcing me to turn around. “Jake, I—I missed the chance to speak to you at the gala. Would you please let me talk to you?”
I didn’t answer.
“I just need five minutes of your time, so—”
“Get the fuck away from my car.”
“Jake.” His face fell. “Jake, don’t do this…”
“Don’t you have some erasing to do?” I glared at him. “More childhood photos you need to crop me out of?”
“Jake, please.”
“I like ‘Pearson’ as a last name. That was a really good choice the two of you made. How many of your legal friends did you have to go through to cover everything up?”
“We’re not covering up anything.”
“No?” I crossed my arms. “Have I somehow missed the scandalous tell-all in the press somewhere? I’d love to read it, if so.”
“We’re still your family, Jake.” He changed the subject. “No matter what you think we did, or no matter what we’ve done, we’re still your flesh and blood and we both need to talk to you.”
“Leave me a voicemail.” I opened my car door, but he stepped in my way.
“We’ve left you hundreds of voicemails, Jake. Hundreds. You keep changing your phone number, treating us like we don’t exist.”
“How ironic is that?” I pushed him. “Get the hell out of my way.”
“Today would’ve been mom’s birthday, you know. She would’ve wanted us to—”
“How do you sleep at night?” I felt the veins in my neck swelling. “How the fuck do either of you sleep at night?”
He shoved his hands into his pocket, regret creeping over his face. “We don’t…We honestly don’t.”
“Good.” I clenched my fists. “You don’t deserve to.”
“I know, and I think it’s time for you to listen to us, Jake. If you heard us out, you’d see that it’s time for you to forgive us.”
“The people who inflict pain can’t decide when it’s time for it to go away.” I slid into the driver’s seat, tempted to roll my car in reverse and then run over him. “Now, get the fuck away from me, and stay the fuck away from me. You, Nathaniel—”
“Dad, Jake. His name is Dad to you.”
“Funny.” I shrugged. “That’s not what I’ve read in the papers all these years.”
Looking saddened, he raised his hands in surrender and backed away from the car. I cranked the engine and pulled off, speeding onto the highway. I now knew I wasn’t going to last at Elite for more than a few more months—huge salary or not, and I needed to figure out a way to leave.
Turning on the radio, I searched for a decent station—something that could distract me, but there was nothing. All static or songs I didn’t feel like listening to.
I groaned and pulled over on the side of the road, parking and putting on my hazard lights. The fact that my brother and father could act so fucking normal, or like they’d ever be forgiven, still got under my skin and grated my nerves.
As a light snow began to fall outside my windows, I leaned back in my c
hair and shut my eyes—trying to calm myself before driving on the road.
By the time I opened my eyes again, an hour had passed and I had two missed calls from Evan, an unknown number, and a handful of emails from Gillian.
* * *
Subject: Can’t sleep.
Are you awake?
—Gillian
* * *
Subject: Yes, I know this email is not about fucking…
I know you’re awake, Jake…
—Gillian
* * *
Subject: My pussy is wet…
So. Soaking. Wet.
—Gillian
* * *
I clicked on her name and hit send via FaceTime.
“Seriously?” She answered on the first ring, her pretty face appearing on my screen immediately. “That’s what it takes?”
“That’s always what it takes.” I noticed she was only wearing a tank top, that her hair was wet and dripping onto her bare shoulders.
She narrowed her eyes at me and sucked in a breath, but I spoke before she could batter me with another long rant.
“I just left a simulator session,” I said. “I saw all of your messages at the same time.”
“So, you would’ve responded to the first one, if you’d seen it earlier?”
“Probably not.” I smiled. “You’re in Newark right now, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Which hotel?”
“The Doubletree.” She squinted at the screen.” Are you in your car?”
“Yes.” I turned on my windshield wipers as the snow fell a little harder. “I needed a minute to think.”
The look on her face said she was waiting for an explanation, but I didn’t give it.
“Why can’t you sleep?” I asked instead. “That’s a pretty relaxing hotel.”
“Because I’m so wet.” She shook her wet hair. “So soaking wet…Oh, god, the ache in my pussy is so unbearable right now.”