by Frankie Love
At that, Cal smiles. “In my lap.”
I nod. “And on my knees.”
“Did you want to have a replay of that scenario?”
“Like now?” I look around the town car, unsure of that happening. There’s a divider, but I’m guessing we have less than ten minutes before we’ll be to the plane.
“On the plane,” he adds. “I’m guessing you aren’t a member of the mile high club?”
I laugh. “Considering you took my virginity a few weeks ago, I’m thinking no.”
Cal cups my cheek with his hand, drawing me toward him. “Then it will be my honor to show you the ropes.”
My hand does some cupping of its own, his length is hard under my touch, and I massage him through his jeans. “I don’t want you to show me any ropes,” I say, smiling as I lean closer to him, my lips close enough to kiss. “Just your cock. That’s all you need to show me tonight.”
19
On the plane, Jules’ wide eyes remind me that while I play the role of a bartender, I still come from a shit ton of money. But she’s who she says she is. A farm girl who has never been so far from home. It makes me feel bad, you know, for lying about who I really am, but I don’t think a woman like her—who is so anti-everything about LA—would be with a man like me if she knew.
She’d choose a guy more noble, honorable. I tell myself the Fuck Club is more than the name suggests. I try to believe it’s a refuge for the rich and famous, a private hideaway where they can let down their guard. I tell this to myself as if it means anything at all.
It doesn’t. Because at the end of the day, my club is really just a place for people to get fucked up and fucked over.
It’s what just happened to Sawyer, and his blood is on my hands.
Jordan wants us to open again, lure in the Russians, and I get that. And I want to do that—hell, it’s my fucking duty to avenge my best friend’s death—but after that?
After that, I’ll close the doors. I’ll get a real fucking job, earn an honest paycheck. Hell, I’m going to meet Jules’ father and what am I gonna say when he asks what I do for a goddamn living? Tell him I am a bartender at a fuck club?
His little girl deserves more than that.
Jules sits next to me in a white leather club seat, adjusting her seatbelt as tight as it can go. She grips the armrests, looking at me with a worried expression.
“You scared of flying?” I ask.
“Yeah, it’s only my second time, but you’re the one who looks like a ball of nervous energy.” She takes my hand in hers, lacing our fingers together. “What has you so worked up?”
“Just thinking about meeting your father. Kind of freaked out, to be honest.”
That gets her to smile, and her head falls back in the chair. “You should be. I’ve never brought home a boy.”
I laugh. “How about a man?”
She shakes her head. “Not one of those either.”
“Well, fuck, you’re really setting me up for success then, aren’t you? Is he gonna give me the tenth degree?”
I can’t remember ever having gone to meet a girl’s parents myself. I haven’t exactly been a guy who has ever done long term anything. A fling on vacation? A girl at the club who looked like a good time? Sure. But something real? Something like this? Never.
And how did Jules become something real in such a short time? I run my thumb over her hand, knowing the answer to that question.
I knew Jules was something real the moment I laid eyes on her.
She shrugs. “He’s a good guy. And I told him we were coming, he was thrilled at the unexpected visit. Besides, all he wants is for his little girl to be happy. And right now, with you, I am.”
I kiss her then, pulling her toward me as the plane takes off. She gasps mid-kiss, both surprised at the fact we are gaining ground, and at the fact, I just stole a kiss from her like that. Timed so perfectly.
“You have good moves, Callahan,” she says, parting her mouth for me.
“And you have good instincts,” I say, my tongue meeting hers, my hands on her cheek, the base of her neck, already knowing that this is going to be the best plane ride of my life.
Once we’ve maintained altitude, I unbuckle both our belts, and stand, pulling tight the curtain that separates us from the pilot. I let him know that our plane ride is not to be interrupted.
Jules’ eyes dance around the luxury jet. I’ve ridden on this thing so many times that the grandeur has faded. But Jules soaks it all in, and I’m happy to be able to give her another first.
Though our last first was the one that will stay in my memory forever. Taking her virginity, a gift she gave so freely.
And now I want to take her again.
“So, you said something about the mile high club?” she says, stepping toward me. Even in her blue jeans and T-shirt, she looks sexy as hell. Her skin has darkened from the California heat, her cheeks look sun-kissed and beautiful. Her hands move over the buttons of her jeans. And when she unzips them, letting them slide to the floor, I know she is willing and wanting to go wherever I take her.
“Look at you,” I tease. “Anxious much?”
“Well, I’m not one for wasting time,” she says. “That’s something you should know about me. I’m a no-nonsense, get-the-job-done, kind of girl.”
“Oh, Jules. Tonight, there is no rush. We are on a five-hour flight, plenty of time to savor the moment.” I step toward her and lift the hem of her T-shirt, her hands rising into the air as I lift it over her head then drop it to the ground.
“Look at you in this pretty little thing.” My fingertips move under the shoulder strap of her bra. It’s white and lacy, and her hard nipples press against the sheer fabric.
“You like it? I thought after the last few weeks after you’ve had such a hard time, you deserve someone to treat you to something sweet.”
“And you’re the something sweet?” I ask. My fingers stroke her skin, running over the waistband of her panties and shoving them down, past her hips.
“I’ve always been the something sweet... But maybe, with you Cal, I can be something naughty.”
“You seemed to like things pretty naughty when we were in the Fuck Club,” I remember the ménage a trois above us. The woman getting fucked in her pussy and her mouth, the way her come dripped on the glass ceiling. Remembering the way Jules ran her hand over her throbbing clit and came too.
“I guess you’re right, Cal. You have already taken all my innocence.”
“Not all your innocence. I’m guessing there’s more for me to take tonight.” I can’t hold back anymore, I rip off my shirt, step out of my jeans, my cock so fucking hard and thick for her. It’s pulling at my boxers, begging for her touch.
There’s something about her round ass, in this tiny thong she wears, and I can’t help but twirl her around so I can grab her cheeks and squeeze them tightly. Her hands reach out, bracing herself on the back of a leather armchair. My hands move over her ass, spreading her legs and caressing her wet pussy.
“You want me to take you like the dirty girl you are?” I ask.
She turns her head over her shoulder making sure I can see her eyes. “I want you to take me like the dirty woman I am. Don’t hold back, Cal. I know you know what you’re doing. A man doesn’t work at a fuck club without knowing how to totally make a woman his own.”
Damn, her words turn me on. Everything about her is a walking wet dream. She’s a fucking supermodel; her photos will be in the newest Sports Illustrated catalog coming out in a few weeks. She is primed to be the next sensation. Her face is going to be everywhere. Her eyes won’t just be looking at me, they’ll be taking in the goddamn world.
I understand what Jules is about to become, the biggest thing this industry has seen in a long ass time. She’s different than the other models I see coming to my club; she is just plain different—from anyone else in general.
And she wants me.
She’s giving me access to everything she’s kept to
herself.
That makes me feel like a king, and also makes me feel like a fraud.
It also makes me fucking terrified for what could happen to her. I’ve seen it before, I just saw it happen to Sawyer. My body courses with emotion: fear for her future, sorrow for my past, fucking pleasure in the moment. My feelings are fucking out of control, and Jules must sense that because she takes my hands and pulls them to her breasts, tugging down the fabric of her bra and making sure I’m taking hold of her luscious tits in my palms.
She seems to understand that right now I need something primal and I need something rough.
“Take me from behind,” she asks. “Get it all out. All those feelings inside, give them to me.”
I raise an eyebrow.
“I mean, it, Cal.” Her voice drops, her eyes steady. “I want you from behind, and I’m not talking doggy style.”
I don’t know if Jules understands what she’s asking, but I do know she’s never done this before, never entertained these ideas before. She’s told me as much when she’s been a sweaty mess in my arms. After I fucked her the first time, she admitted that sex like this had never even entered her imagination.
Now she’s asking me to fuck her in the ass.
It’s the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. Given themselves to me in this way, realizing that what I need is to lose myself for a little while.
I run my fingers over her breasts, past her stomach, touching her cunt. It’s waxed bare, has to be for all the photos she does half naked, and her pussy lips are wet, and dripping with anticipation.
Good. But I know she’ll need a lot more lubrication than that. I tug down her thong and unclasp the back of her bra so her big tits aren’t tethered. They need to be free to bounce and move as I fuck her hard and good.
I walk toward my luggage, pull out a tube of lubrication. She looks at me with wide eyes and I grin. “Come prepared?” she teases.
I shrug. “If we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna do this right. The last thing I want to do is to hurt you.
“Maybe it needs to be rough. Maybe that’s what you need more than anything else right now, Cal. You’ve been through so much. Let me take some of the pain away.”
Her eyes are heavy with understanding. I know without her saying a thing that she’s seen hard times before, maybe that’s one of the reasons I’ve been so drawn to her. She didn’t ask for an explanation of why I went MIA for last two weeks—no, she understands that I needed to be alone with my pain. She doesn’t need me to tell a story I don’t have the words for— she’s here, no questions asked, offering me all of herself.
I take the lube and stroke it over my hard cock. Her body is so goddamn beautiful and the anticipation is fucking with me. How did I get so damn lucky? After a lifetime of bad luck here I am, with Jules. With perfect fucking Jules.
“I want you just like that,” I tell her. “Lean yourself against the back of that chair, just like that,” I purr in her ear, my fingers finding her perfect hole and I press one inside her.
Instead of tensing further, my lubed up finger causes her to murmur in relief. Her shoulders relax, tension dripping away with my soothing order. She wants me to tell her what to do, how to behave.
But one thing about Jules that I’m fucking falling for, is the fact she only acts this way in the bedroom. Everywhere else, she’s all woman. She knows who she is and what she wants.
And I have a feeling that lesson in life didn’t come easy. She worked hard to become strong. That kind of strength doesn’t happen overnight. She left everything she knew, her home and family and the farm, and came to LA for a career she has no interest in because she knew it was worth it.
She knew if she did this one thing her family would have a safety net. That’s fucking brave as hell, and it makes me want her even more.
I move my finger in and out of her, then add another, wanting to stretch her nice and slow. My mouth is on her neck, licking her skin, and she takes my other hand, pressing it to her tit. I massage her breast as I finger her, her hard nipples getting my cock hard as hell.
Pulling my fingers from her, I run my hands over her ass, my mouth on her bare back, then on her neck, nibbling her ear and kissing it not so gently. She’s moaning in pleasure, my cock right up against her ass, ready to edge its way in. “You ready, baby?” I ask.
“Please,” she moans. “I need you in me.”
I spread her cheeks and press myself, inside of her. She whimpers but tells me to keep going.
“I want this. I want to do this. Give it to me Cal, give it to me now,” she begs me.
I move deeper inside of her, and it feels so fucking good. Her cunt is tight as hell, but so is this little hole of hers.
“This makes me feel beautiful,” she whispers. With one hand on the base of my cock, easing into her, my other hand pulls her closer to me, bringing our bodies together, and as we fuck it feels like we’re becoming one.
We’re sure as hell becoming more than a fling. With her, I feel vulnerable. I feel seen and understood, and damn, it’s crazy to feel this way with a girl I’ve only met—but I mean it. With Jules, I feel like I want to be the best goddamn version of myself.
And hell, I’m gonna come so fucking fast in her. I can’t help it though, I love the way she feels, and as I rock gently against her, I fill her up with my cock.
She tells me she feels so full, so good—and then she’s coming. She touches her pussy as I rock against her ass, and she’s coming against me, hard, harder, harder still.
“I’m gonna come, Cal. Oh God, I’m gonna come—” And then her head falls to her extended arms, she goes limp against the chair as she pushes her ass up toward me. With her shoulders slack, she’s relaxed enough now that I can pump into her harder until I come.
“Oh baby, fuck me,” I groan as I finish. I’m out of breath, and so is she and when I ease myself out of her, she groans too.
“That was so fucking amazing,” she says, and then she’s shaking her head and laughing and pulling her arms around me squeezing tight against my neck. And I lift her up, her legs wrapping around my waist, my hands on her ass, holding her, closer. Close enough that I can breathe her in and hear her laughter in my ear.
“Cal, that made me feel so––” She shakes her head again, burying her face in my shoulders. “Is it always like that? People say butt sex is pretty terrifying but you made it feel so good. So right.”
I look at her, and she looks at me, and I nod. “That’s because whatever this is, between us, Jules, it is something good. It’s something very right.”
20
I wouldn’t say Cal looks at home on the farm... but he doesn’t look entirely out of place.
And when Daddy takes him to the barn and shows him his old motorcycle, that he couldn’t get up and running after he nearly totaled it about a decade ago, I see that Cal will have no problem shooting the shit with my dad for a few days.
As soon as those two seem comfortable, I slip away to the house to visit with Grandma. Dad says she’s had a hard few days, her multiple sclerosis can flare up for either hours or months at a time. When she’s feeling well, she can get around on her scooter, go to the Bridge Club, and the library, but on her bad days, she stays put. I’m glad I can keep her company today, knowing how she always gets so lonely when she’s confined to her bedroom.
“How you doing in that big city, sweetheart?” she asks, looking at me warmly. I go to hand her a glass of iced tea but it’s obvious that the full glass of ice cubes will be much too heavy for her. Her skin is thin, her hands shake. My Grandma has aged a decade in the month I’ve been gone. I can’t imagine how she’ll be doing in another month.
I blink back tears and hold the straw to Gram’s lips. “It’s going okay.”
“I see you’ve already brought yourself back a boy.”
“Don’t let him hear you say that. He calls himself a man.” I smile, sitting next to Gram’s bed in a familiar armchair. Her hand crocheted doilies are p
laced on the armrests, the same way as they’ve always been. My heart aches, knowing her fingers hurt too much to crochet or quilt anymore, two of her favorite things in the world. That, and planting a flower garden every year.
I hate what her illness has done to her, but even more than that, I hate the fact I’m missing time with her so I can flaunt myself around Hollywood. In this moment, that means nothing. Right now, all I see is the person who I’ve lived with my entire life, dying painfully.
“Well, man or not,” she tells me, “I admit to being surprised to see you coming home so soon.”
I straighten the sheets around Gram, not meeting her eyes. “Cal needed a bit of breathing room.” Grandma nods at that, understanding. I’d called her and Dad the night on the bridge when we’d found Sawyer’s note. They listened to me cry about the tragedy, how we couldn’t save him, and they’ve called every day since then to check in on me. “Nowhere better to heal than right here in Resting Hollow.”
“And you weren’t just jumping on the opportunity to make sure your old Gram hadn’t kicked the bucket?”
My eyes shoot up. “Gram, don’t talk like that. You have a lot of life left in you. Besides, this right here is my favorite place in the entire world.”
Gram smiles sadly. “Oh, Jules. You’ve always been so good to me. Wasted your youth making sure I was taken care of. I’m gonna be okay, you know. It’s you I’m worried about.” When I don’t answer she continues. “Your daddy, he’s gonna be okay too. Live your life, sweetie.”
“Can’t this be my life? Can’t living here in this house with the people I love be enough?”
“And what would that city slicker boy in the barn think about living here in Resting?”
I shake my head. “Honestly? I don’t know. But Cal is not a city slicker. He’s nothing like the other guys in LA who have stylists and get blowouts. Cal is the salt of the earth and just happens to come from money.”