by A. D. Ryan
“Well, I think about it…actually, I’ve been thinking about it a lot more since Christmas, if I’m being entirely honest. I may be young, but I know what I want, and I want you. Always.”
His eyes reflect his happiness as well as his desire, and he leans in, pressing our foreheads together. “You just had to say all of this on the airplane, didn’t you? I can’t even begin to tell you what hearing all of that is doing to me.”
Smiling, I decide that now is as good a time as any to officially start our vacation. “I know this is only slightly off topic,” I begin quietly, “but I was wondering if you could help me out with something.” Greyston regards me with quiet curiosity, and I continue. “I’ve been looking to acquire a membership into a very exclusive club.”
“You’re pledging a sorority?” he asks, clearly not picking up on my suggestive undertones. “I don’t understand how I’m going to be able to help you with that.”
Slowly, and without breaking eye contact, I unbuckle my seatbelt—now that it’s safe, of course—and lean closer, letting my lips brush his. “Not that kind of club.” His eyes widen with realization, and I smile triumphantly. “You interested?”
He looks around the cabin of the plane; it’s not overly crowded, but it is over half-full. “I don’t know…”
“Wait a minute.” I pause and watch as he turns back to look at me. “Are you telling me you’ve never…?”
“It’s an airplane, Juliette,” he says as if that’s reason enough to not have sex on it.
“Yeah, and?” I counter, feeling pretty satisfied in myself for suggesting something even he’s never done. Suddenly empowered, I stand up and begin to exit our row, facing him and putting his face directly in line with my lower half. “New experiences, remember?”
Before heading to the washroom, I lean down and kiss his cheek, lingering long enough to whisper in his ear. “I’ll wait five minutes. If you don’t show up, that’s fine. We can wait until we’re in Whistler. I just thought this could be fun.”
I head to the washroom and close the door before checking my watch. My heart pounds as I attempt to pace around the tiny space, and the longer I wait—even though it’s only been less than a minute, I begin to wonder if I should abort this mission before Greyston has a chance to decide. It’s pretty risky, after all, and as I take a look around, I can tell that this will probably be pretty diff—
A light knock on the door jars me from my apprehension, and before I can open it a crack to see who it is, the door quickly opens and Greyston joins me in the tight space. The look in his eyes is absolutely wild with desire. He doesn’t allow me the opportunity to say anything before he flips the lock on the door and pulls me into his arms, crushing his lips to mine as he backs me against the countertop.
Any thoughts I previously had about this maybe being one of my worst ideas I’ve ever had immediately dissipate when he palms my ass and lifts me onto the counter. My hands work furiously to unbutton his shirt as his tongue sweeps over my lower lip, and I moan softly, pushing the shirt down his shoulders a little because I know that we don’t have the luxury—or the time—to get completely naked here. I let my hands roam freely over his muscular chest before moving down to his belt. As I undo it and his jeans, he slides his hands up my thighs and grips the thin sides of my thong. Slowly, he slides it as far down as he can before he has to take a step back to remove them entirely, and I open my eyes just in time to see him slip the scrap of fabric into his pocket.
He smirks devilishly. “Figured I needed some kind of souvenir to mark our initiation.”
“Smart man,” I tell him, reaching out and grabbing his open belt. “Now get back here.”
Not wasting another minute, Greyston steps forward, and my legs part, forcing my skirt a few inches up my thighs. I can feel the bulge of his erection behind his jeans when he presses against me, and I work quickly to undo his pants.
Warmth rolls over me as his strong hands move up the outside of my thighs, and I release a soft moan when he curls his fingers and drags his nails back down them lightly. I’m just about to beg him to fuck me when, out of nowhere, the plane rocks. My hands fly out to support myself against either wall, while Greyston’s hands clamp down on my legs. We both laugh nervously. Thankfully, it passes soon enough, and we quickly resume our heated make-out session.
He struggles a minute to push my skirt a little farther up, so I lift myself up to assist him, and his hands take the opportunity to roam over my ass, freezing the instant he grazes the naked flesh between my legs. I hold my breath and wait for his reaction; I had been so caught up in the sensation of his hands on me—and just how delightfully bad we were being—that I forgot about my last minute decision at the mall yesterday. He drops his eyes and takes a very small step away, his back hitting the wall as his right hand moves up over my thigh and between my legs to explore the newly bare flesh there.
“What did you do?”
Based on his question alone, I suddenly find myself a little nervous that he doesn’t like it, but as his hand continues to move back and forth, his fingers slipping between my folds and gliding with ease over my sensitive flesh, I’m reassured. “Do you like it?” I ask him, breathing heavily as he eases his fingers into me with a guttural groan and lowers his lips to my neck. I throw my arms around his shoulders, holding him in place, and rock my hips against his hand. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
His free hand comes up and lifts my shirt, tugging the cup of my bra aside so he can palm my breast. “Greyston,” I gasp when he curls his fingers inside of me and finds that hidden spot that pushes me closer to the edge of release. Needing more, I slip my hands between us again and push his pants down over his ass, carefully working them over his erection. I dig the condom from the pocket of my skirt and hand it to him.
Understanding, Greyston raises his head from my neck and removes his fingers from between my thighs. He rolls the latex over his length, then pulls me to the very edge of the counter and lifts my right leg until my foot is flat against the wall behind him. Once I’m positioned, eases me back until my shoulders rest against the mirror behind me. Then he grips my hips firmly before slowly entering me as I bite back a groan, trying not to alert the flight attendants of our indiscretion.
“Jesus, Juliette, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he tells me, his eyes trained on the site of his cock disappearing inside of me.
Curious, I shift my weight and look down, wanting to see what he sees, and when I do, I cannot bring myself to look away. Watching him thrust in and out of me is the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen in my life, and I can feel my entire body tense in preparation of my climax.
“I’m…not…” Greyston growls between thrusts. “Fuck! I’m not going to last much longer.”
A deep tingle begins to emanate throughout my entire body, and I fall back to the mirror, unable to hold myself upright anymore as I creep closer and closer to pure bliss. Greyston’s right hand leaves my hip, moving up to grope my tit roughly before moving down my arm until he ensnares my wrist and lifts it above my head, holding it against the mirror. Then, his other hand leaves my body, going straight for my other wrist, and he guides it between us.
“Touch yourself,” he commands, his hips moving a little less rhythmically as he watches.
Nodding, I let my index and middle fingers glide over my swollen clit; it’s so sensitive that I have to bite my lip hard to keep from crying out. I watch Greyston’s face as I pleasure myself, and he is focused raptly on our joining bodies, picking up the pace and racing toward his orgasm. His grunts and groans fill the small space, and I’m sure we can be heard, but I don’t really give a shit as my fingers press harder and swirl faster over my tender flesh. Occasionally, they’ll graze his length as he pulls out, and he’s quick to slam back into me over and over again until his eyebrows pull together. His jaw clenches, and his hold on my wrist tightens as his hips stutter and jerk against me. It takes me a couple more passes over my clit before I’m coming, too,
every muscle in my body contracting around him.
Smiling lazily, Greyston peppers kisses across my sternum before pressing them firmly against my lips. “Fuck that was hot,” he growls, biting my lip. “Best fucking club I’ve ever been a part of.”
Quicker than I should be in my post-orgasmic daze, I decide to play with his choice of words a little. “Been a part of many fucking clubs, Mr. Masters?”
He chuckles, pushing himself up and releasing my wrist from above my head so we can right our clothes. “Behave yourself.”
Smiling mischievously as I tuck my breasts back into my bra and pull my shirt down, I shrug. “Little late for that, don’t you think?”
He laughs quietly, helping me down from the counter and pushing my skirt back down my thighs. He quickly washes his hands while I clean myself up, and then I do the same. He listens at the door for a moment before opening it a crack and slipping out. I immediately lock the door to keep anyone else from coming in while I wait a few minutes before emerging as well. When I feel enough time has sufficiently passed, I open the door and head back to my seat. I try to ignore the way the flight attendant stares at me, but I feel like she knows what we were up to. I begin to panic, my heart racing and my breathing speeding up. I pass by her, and she doesn’t say anything, so I breathe a sigh of relief and find Greyston in his seat.
As I pass in front of him, it doesn’t escape my notice that his eyes linger in the general area of my zipper, and I can only imagine he’s thinking about what I’m not wearing underneath.
Once I’m securely buckled next to him, I lean in. “Am I going to get them back?” I whisper, and he laughs.
“I told you they’re a souvenir of my initiation.”
“And where’s mine?” I demand playfully.
He only smirks, leaning forward and grabbing the magazine from the seat back in front of him. “You check your neck?”
My eyes fly open, and I reach for my phone, turning camera on and flipping the view so I can see myself. When I do, I see the lovely quarter-sized hickey he left on me. “What are you, fifteen?” I ask with a laugh, trying to tug the low neckline of my shirt up to cover it. “Who does that?”
“Men who are in the moment and trying not to alert the staff that they’re getting lucky in the washroom.”
I think about this for a moment and decide his reasoning is solid. “Fair enough.”
Two hours later, the announcement is made that we’re flying over the mountains, and that our expected arrival in Vancouver will be within the hour. Greyston tells me to open the window, and when I do, I see the most breathtaking view of snow-capped mountaintops and the greenest trees I’ve ever seen.
“Wow,” I breathe, fogging up the window. I watch for as long as possible, and when the view passes, I close the shade and relax back into my seat and anticipate our descent into British Columbia.
As promised, the plane is touching down on the tarmac within the hour, and we’re making our way toward our gate. When the seatbelt light turns off, a chorus of clicks can be heard as everyone unfastens them and begins to gather their things. Greyston grabs our carry-on bags from the overhead compartment and we make our way for the front of the plane. As everyone before us exits, the attendants wish them a pleasant stay in Vancouver—or wherever their final destination may be—but when we reach them, they both smirk knowingly.
“On behalf of the airline, we hope that the two of you enjoyed your flight.” My cheeks blaze hot, and I force a smile to my face, nodding nervously. “Enjoy your stay in B.C. Stay warm, you two.”
The instant we’re off the plane, Greyston and I burst into a fit of laughter and make our way to collect our luggage. If the rest of our vacation promises to be as great as the three-hour flight was, then I am more than ready for it to officially begin.
Plus, I still have a few special surprises up my sleeve for Greyston.
Chapter 28
“So, what are we going to do first?” I ask, excitement zipping through my entire body.
Greyston glances outside, his forehead furrowing. “Well, first I’m going to suggest you change out of that skirt while I wait for the bags. I won’t have you catching a cold on our vacation.
“Always so bossy,” I quip, taking my carry-on from him and kissing his cheek. I scan the area we’re in and quickly find the restrooms. “I’ll be right out.”
Once inside one of the stalls, I hang my bag on the hook on the inside of the door and remove my jeans. I drape them over the bag and remove my shoes, standing on top of them versus the germ-riddled washroom floor.
I slip my skirt off, remembering that I’m down a pair of underwear and didn’t think to pack a backup. How was I to anticipate Greyston would keep them? Going commando in a pair of jeans isn’t something I particularly want to do, but that’s okay. Less to take off later, right?
I balance precariously on my shoes while I put my jeans on, trying not to think about what’s on the floor just in case I might step on it. When I manage to get my pants on without any mishaps, I put my shoes back on and toss my skirt in my bag. I stop at the sink to wash my hands and fix my hair a little, then I’m on my way out to the luggage carousel where Greyston waits for our bags. He’s just pulling them off the conveyor belt when I reach him.
Before he leads me out into the cold, I stop him so I can grab my jacket and boots out of my suitcase. We head over to a nearby bench where I exchange my Chucks for my new winter boots and pull on my winter jacket.
We step outside, and I stand on the edge of the sidewalk for a minute, looking at the ground and feeling a little cheated when I don’t see any snow.
“I thought you said there’d be snow,” I remark as Greyston places a hand on my back and urges me forward with a laugh.
“There will be when we get to Whistler,” he assures me as we dodge a few puddles. “It rarely snows in Vancouver, actually. Don’t worry. There’ll be more than enough as we drive farther east.”
I’m not sure where we’re going at first until Greyston waves at a man across the street, standing next to a newer gold Lexus SUV.
“Mr. Masters,” the man says, handing the keys to Greyston.
“Thanks for bringing the car, Jack,” Greyston says, shaking the man’s hand.
“Any time, Sir. Have a good stay, and let me know when to pick the car up after you drop it back off here.”
“Will do. Drive safe, and say hi to Martha for me.” Greyston raises a hand again to the car behind the Lexus. In the passenger seat is a kindly older woman who waves back. I’m probably right in assuming this is Martha.
Jack leaves as we load our bags into the back of the SUV. I’m still a bit perplexed, and Greyston must sense this.
“Mom and Dad own the Lexus. They called their year-round caretakers to drop it off here for our arrival,” he explains, closing the back and wrapping an arm around me.
He’d said when we first met that his parents were comfortable financially, and I had seen evidence of this over the last few weeks as I’d gotten to know them. But this? A cabin in the Canadian Mountains? A luxury SUV that they only use when at the cabin? This seems to go beyond simply “comfortable.” I’m starting to think they’re filthy rich.
A cold wind picks up, and I grab onto Greyston’s arm a little tighter, sidling up to him to shield me from the wind as it cuts through my jeans. “Wow! Even though there’s no snow, it’s still unbelievably cold. I’m glad you suggested I change.”
With a laugh, Greyston unlocks the SUV. “I wasn’t joking. Though, if you find Vancouver cold, I’m a little afraid to take you to Whistler.” I laugh nervously, half-hoping he’s just kidding. Truthfully, I suspect he’s not. “But don’t worry, the car should warm up soon, and we’ll be at the cabin before you know it… Actually, it’s probably going to be quite a bit colder this evening, so we can just light a fire and stay in all night, if you’d prefer?”
Curious about what else he might have planned, I quirk an eyebrow. “As opposed to?”
&
nbsp; Greyston shrugs non-committedly. “I hadn’t really made plans for tonight. I figured we’d play it by ear.”
I slip into the passenger seat and rub my hands together. “Staying in and lighting a fire sounds wonderfully warm,” I tell him, trying not to let my teeth chatter too loudly.
Once he’s behind the wheel, Greyston starts the car and turns on the heated leather seats. Within minutes, a blast of warmth moves through me, starting at my ass. It’s both odd and amazing at the same time. I laugh in response, and Greyston turns to me, right eyebrow arched.
“It’s stupid,” I try to tell him, but he insists on knowing what I’m thinking. “I’ve never, um, experienced heated leather seats before.” The warmth travels to my cheeks—then again, that could very well just be me blushing. “It’s a strange feeling.”
In an effort to pass the time on our drive to Whistler, I ask about the cabin and the resort we’ll be skiing at, and then I ask what all he has planned while we’re there. I’m about to argue with his plan of taking me out for a few drinks when he tells me that the legal age here is nineteen—nineteen.
I look at the clock on the dashboard and notice that an hour has passed since we left Vancouver. The gloomy clouds have cleared, a bluer sky and the sun having taken its place. Soon, there are heaps of snow along the side of the road, and I’m completely awestruck by the passing scenery as we draw near the mountains.
Another thirty minutes pass before I remember to call my mother to let her know our plane landed safely. She’s happy to hear we’re on our way to the cabin and reminds me to check in again in a few days and take tons of pictures. Before our conversation goes on too long, I promise to call Mom when we get to the cabin so my cell bill isn’t hit with all sorts of roaming charges.
Greyston turns to me as I slip my phone back into my pocket. “Would you mind if we stopped at the grocery store before the cabin? We can always go out to a nice restaurant, if you’d rather we wait for tomorrow.”