Come Fly with Me: A Collection

by Whitney G.

  “Every day?” he asked, picking up our conversation. “That’s as elaborate as you can get?”

  I nodded, unsure of where he was going with this. Before I could ask him something, the plane slowly shook and veered to the right—pushing me back against the wall.

  Looking unfazed by any sort of turbulence as always, Jake held me in place.

  “When we met again in the mailroom months ago, you said you’d previously had much better sex with someone other than me. Bullshit aside, was that even halfway true, then?”

  “You actually remember that?”

  “Answer the question.”

  “No, that’s not true.” I felt the plane shake again. “Why are you asking me this after all this time?”

  “No reason.” He pulled my hair out of its side ponytail and tossed the elastic band to the floor. Staring at me, he grabbed the hem of my shirt and pulled it over my head.

  “Take off your pants,” he said.

  My hands went to my jeans and I unzipped them, watching him as he took off his shirt and stepped out of his pants, too.

  He stood stark naked in front of me, his cock hard and alert, his body making mine tremble in anticipation of what I’d been missing. Sighing, he stepped close and looked down at the only thing I was still wearing. Without saying a word, he ripped them off—letting them fall in shreds to the floor.

  “Give me your phone.”

  Confused, I bent down and grabbed my jeans, pulling my phone out of my front pocket and handing it to him. “What are you doing?”

  “Your phone has video storage, correct?” He didn’t give me a chance to answer, tapping the screen a few times. “Yes, it does…” He clasped my hand and pulled me over to the small couch in the corner.

  I thought he wanted us to sit on it, but he kept me standing.

  With my ass pressed against his cock, he held the phone in front of us—our bare bodies visible as the red “recording” light flashed on the screen. Before I could ask him what the hell he was doing, he pressed his mouth against my skin—slowly trailing his tongue from my right to my left shoulder.

  Holding my phone steady, he wrapped his other hand around my waist and pulled me close enough so his cock was slightly pressed between my cheeks. His mouth continued pressing kisses against my flesh, his teeth softly biting me.

  “Keep your eyes on the camera, Gillian…” he whispered. “Keep your eyes on us…”

  My cheeks flushed bright red as I stared at myself onscreen, and my eyes went wide as saucers. His blue eyes met mine from behind—gleaming wickedly as his kisses became teasingly unbearable with each passing second.

  He suddenly spun me around to face him, latching his mouth onto mine—owning our kiss before I could even get a chance to try. His full lips moved against mine—wet and rough, demanding that I follow his lead. And as he continued to record us, he whispered, “Relax, Gillian…You’re about to see exactly why I’m so addicted to fucking you.”

  Without saying anything else, he bent me over the couch—my body bowed so far over that my hair grazed the floor. He slapped my ass with his palm repeatedly, making me gasp every time. Then he slowly slipped his hand between my thighs, sucking in a hard breath once he felt how wet my pussy was.

  I watched him position my phone against the pillows, heard him unwrap a condom, and the next thing I felt was his rock-hard cock sliding into me. His fingers twisting in my hair and tugging me back as he filled me inch by inch.

  I immediately cried out in a mix of pleasure and slight pain, still never fully accustomed to how deep he could fit inside of my pussy. How he owned my walls with his each and every thrust.

  “Look at how I’m fucking you right now, Gillian...Look at how your pussy only responds to me,” he whispered harshly, but he didn’t give me a chance to move. He pulled me back by my hair, forcing me to look at myself onscreen.

  I didn’t recognize the woman staring back at me.

  Sweat was glistening against my skin, my lips parted with every moan, and as I gripped onto Jake’s legs for balance, I looked as if I was completely out of control. As if I wanted him to keep fucking me more than anything. When he finally let go of my hair, he reached around my chest and palmed my breasts—roughly strumming my nipples.

  Panting, I briefly shut my eyes, but he demanded that I open them.

  “I want you to watch.” He punished my earlobe with his teeth, biting me more than once. “I want you to watch how fucked up we both are…How we need this…”

  As the red light from the phone continued to blink, and the sound of our skin slapping against each other filled the room, Jake whispered, “This is why I can’t stay away from you, Gillian…This is exactly why…”

  I bit my lip as he ground his hips against mine and moved my hand down to my clit. I felt it swelling beneath my drenched fingertips, felt my pussy continuing to throb in bliss against Jake’s reckless rhythm.

  Jake suddenly grabbed my hand and sucked my fingers into his mouth—groaning as he tasted my wetness. I felt the muscles in his legs beginning to tense as he continued pounding into me, and as he held me taut against him, I came with him for the very first time.

  I collapsed onto the couch, his cock leaving me as I fell, and he remained standing, staring at me.

  Shutting my eyes, I waited to catch my breath, and several minutes later, I realized he was still staring at me.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Nothing.” He smiled and picked up my phone, turning off the red light before handing it to me. “Keep that for yourself.”

  “You wanted to do that just so I could watch it later?”

  He nodded.

  “Why?”

  “Because the next time we argue—if we argue again that is, you’ll have a visual reminder that you don’t ever need to waste your time looking for someone else.” He walked over to me and covered my mouth with his. Then he continued to make up for lost time by spreading my legs and sliding his cock inside of me once more, slowly fucking me again and again.

  Gate B33

  Gillian

  London (LHR)

  * * *

  We landed in London much later that evening, the familiar fog of the city welcoming us with open arms. Still bearing the scent of our sex, we checked into a hotel and showered, with Jake taking me shopping shortly after.

  Completely sated from our sex in the air, I fell asleep locked tightly in his arms that night, my heart never feeling more full or happier. And as he kissed me to sleep, I hoped—truly hoped, that we could remain just like this for at least a month…

  In the morning, I woke up completely sore and exhausted, with a full, assorted breakfast tray sitting to my left. A handwritten note from Jake was sitting right next to the strawberries.

  * * *

  Had to take a few phone calls.

  I’ll be back.

  —Jake

  * * *

  I didn’t let my mind wander to thoughts of why he’d once again felt the need to leave the room to talk on the phone; I decided to let it go.

  I slowly sat up and started eating the breakfast, scrolling through my text messages as syrup dribbled down my chin.

  * * *

  Mom: Your apartment is far nicer than I thought it would be. Thank you for letting us use it.

  Mom: How are you able to afford this? (Tell me Gillian…*Are* you selling drugs?)

  Amy: You missed the proposal of the year… It was AMAZING, Gillian!

  Heather: Really wish you could’ve been there. How’s Jake?

  Brian: She said yes! I’ll send you pictures later today. It was EPIC.

  Meredith: Your brother’s proposal was whack as fuck. You owe me for forcing me to waste my Saturday on that. O_o. Pictures attached. [img.] [img.] [img.]

  * * *

  I laughed and clicked on the images, grateful that I’d escaped the “epic” celebration this weekend. As I was looking at the picture of Brian crying as he got down on one knee, Jake returned to the room.
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  “What’s funny?” he asked, setting his phone on the desk.

  “My brother’s proposal.” I held up the phone. “He was crying before he even got down on one knee.”

  He looked at the picture and raised his eyebrow. “Interesting.”

  “If you ever want to propose to me in the future, please don’t cry in front of me. It’ll ruin the mood.”

  He ignored that comment completely and pressed a strawberry against my lips. “Get dressed. We have only a day and a half left here, and I want to take you somewhere.”

  I smiled and quickly slid out of bed, dressing under his watchful eyes in the new jeans and sweater he’d bought me last night.

  When I was finished, he clasped my hand and walked me out of the hotel and into a waiting taxi cab. Pulling me into his lap, he ran his fingers through my hair as the car careened across the cobble-stoned streets.

  “Where are we going?” I asked softly.

  “Somewhere I think you might like.”

  Within minutes, the cab pulled in front of Hatchard’s, the oldest book store in London.

  I couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across my face as he helped me out of the car. He led me inside, past the famous café and displays and toward a sign and room that read “Signing Event Today!”

  “You brought me to a book signing?” I looked up at him, unable to contain my excitement. “Is it John Grisham?”

  “Unfortunately not.” He laughed.

  “Then who is it?”

  “That type of thing matters at a signing?” he asked genuinely, looking as if he was really trying to make an impression today.

  “No.” I smiled. “Not this time.”

  He pulled out a chair for me at one of the room’s tables. “I’ll get you some coffee. Three sugars, hazelnut shots, right?”

  “You remembered?”

  “Not at all.” He kissed my forehead before stepping away.

  All of a sudden, a loud applause filled the room and I joined in, standing with the rest of the room as a woman in a red dress took the short stage at the front of the room.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” she said. “Thank you so much for joining us today at Hatchard’s! We’re honored to bring our guest of the month here. Please welcome, World-renowned and bestselling author of Mile High Club Unveiled and New York, New York, Brooke Clarkson!”

  My hands immediately stopped clapping and my heart sank ten levels as my past collided with my present.

  The author, dressed in a beautiful black dress with her famous million-dollar smile, waved at the audience as she took her seat.

  “Hi!” She said, still looking as perfect as she did years ago, when my “run-in” with her got me fired. “It’s so nice to be here today!”

  The audience giggled and said “Squee!” like little schoolgirls while my previous career played in front of me, while all the pain and anger that landed me in my current life ran on repeat.

  “I want to start with a question and answer session before I start today,” she said, and I slowly stood up, ready to get the hell out of here.

  I rushed out of the room, nearly running into Jake and he followed me toward the doors—grabbing my wrist before I could leave. Noticing the look on my face, he pulled me toward the back of the store and pressed me against a bookcase.

  “What’s wrong with you, Gillian?” He held my face, looking concerned.

  I shook my head.

  “Another long story?”

  “Yes, but…I don’t want to tell this one.”

  “Then don’t.” He set my coffee on the shelf. “But we’re not wasting the rest of this date.”

  “This is a date?” I smiled. “I thought you didn’t do those.”

  “I thought I didn’t either.” He pushed me against the bookshelf and pressed his mouth against mine, making me quickly forget everything else. But only for a few hours…

  Four hours later, in the middle of the night, I woke up to the sound of his voice on the balcony. He was shouting at someone, throwing glass onto the floor.

  “You wait until now to tell me this shit?” He snarled. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been—” He threw another glass. “Fuck you. Fuck. You. I’m on my way.”

  I sat up in the bed, watching him open the sliding doors. He stormed into the room, glanced at me and shook his head. He tossed back one of the half-full shots from last night and grabbed his pants.

  “We need to go,” he said.

  “Now?”

  “Right now.”

  “Together?”

  “No.” He dialed a number on his phone and held it up to his ear. “Yes. I need a first class ticket to New York for someone. No, the airline doesn’t matter, but departure is today, within the next three hours preferably. I prefer JFK over LaGuardia airport. Yes…Yes, thank you.”

  My phone suddenly vibrated with an email.

  * * *

  Subject: Flight Confirmation.

  Thank you for flying with Delta Airways. We look forward to serving you aboard our first class cabin. Please click the attachment to view your itinerary.

  [pdf.]

  * * *

  I watched as Jake redressed without another word, as he gestured for me to do the same. He didn’t speak to me as we left the hotel together, didn’t even look my way as he registered for a cheap rental car and drove us to the airport.

  “You got my hopes up again, Jake,” I said softly. “You got my fucking hopes up again and you just stomped all over them for no reason. No explanation.”

  “I can’t give you an explanation right now, Gillian,” he said. “I honestly can’t. We’re not there yet.”

  “Then I don’t think we ever will be…” I didn’t say anything else for the remainder of the drive.

  When he pulled in front of the Delta departure stop, he simply held the door open for me and only said, “Have a safe flight.”

  “I thought you were going to tell me what was going on with you. Does it have something to do with why you’re acting this way right now?”

  “Get out of the car, Gillian.”

  Shaking my head, I grabbed my bag and stepped out—ignoring the agonizing ache in my chest.

  “Thank you for not fighting with me on this,” he said, leaning forward to kiss my forehead but I stepped back.

  “You know how you previously said that you would need a real reason for us to come to an end?”

  “Don’t do this right now, Gillian. You have no idea what’s going on.”

  “I know,” I stepped onto the sidewalk. “That’s the point. This is the end for me, Jake. Goodbye.”

  I walked away for the final time.

  Gate B34

  Jake

  London (LHR) --> Newark (EWR)

  I didn’t have time to think about Gillian’s feelings right now. I only received these phone calls or voicemails every so often and I needed to act quickly each time they came.

  The second I landed in Newark, I took a cab straight to a secluded black cove in the middle of the suburbs. Rushing inside the lone building that sat in the center of the cove, I signed my name at the desk and hoped I wasn’t too late this time.

  I walked down the hall, to room number eight, and slowly ran my fingers across the nameplate: Sarah Irene Weston.

  I walked into the room and the woman in bed immediately sat up.

  “Who are you?” she asked. “Are you here for Sarah? She pointed to the empty bed next to her.

  “Yes,” I said. “I’m here for Sarah. Do you know where she is?”

  “She’ll be back in an hour or so.” She patted the edge of her bed. “You’ll keep me company until she gets back?”

  I nodded and walked over, sitting on her bed.

  She was silent for a few minutes—looking as if she was waiting for Sarah, too, but then she began to speak.

  “They don’t keep it warm enough here,” she said. “I always have to ask for blankets.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” I noti
ced she was buried under four of them, that there was a stack of them in the corner.

  “It’s okay. They joke with me every time I ask for a new one. Apparently, I’ve asked for so many, that some anonymous donor sends me brand new ones whenever I want. All I have to do is call some place called Blanket Manufacturing when I’m running low and they come like clockwork.”

  “That’s very nice.” I looked toward the door to see if a nurse was nearby.

  “Isn’t it?” She smiled. “I hate the food here as well, so another anonymous donor sends me catered food every day. What’s your name, son?”

  “Jake.”

  “Jake?” Her eyes lit up. “I have a son named Jake! Jake Weston is his name. He’s a pilot, you know.”

  “Is he now?”

  “Yes.” She looked proud. “He sends me trinkets from every city he flies to, every single one so I can feel like I’ve traveled the world, too.”

  “That’s very nice of him.”

  “He is nice.” She nodded. “He’s just stubborn. Things always have to be his way or no way.”

  “Not always…”

  “Oh, trust me.” She laughed. “I know my Jake. It’s always, especially since he’s in his twenties now.” She pointed toward the stack of blankets in the corner, so I grabbed one and lay it on top of her, tucking her tightly underneath.

  “Do you have any children, Jake?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “No? Why not? You look like you’re in your prime, like you’re ready to settle down and have a few.”

  “I don’t have the time.”

  “The time?” She laughed. “Oh, now you sound exactly like my Jake! He always says that! I’ll have to tell him about you. I’ll have to let him know that there’s another Jake in the world who doesn’t want to have any kids.” She looked toward the door. “Since Sarah’s taking a long time, can we talk a little more? Can I tell you more about my Jake?”