Beautiful Dark

by Jordyn White

  “Every drop.” He goes for his pants like he’s going to put himself away.

  “No!” I whisper urgently. “I want to suck it.”

  He looks around, as if he’s just now realized we’re in a freaking public garage.

  I lift my hips, bringing my leggings and panties up over my rear.

  “Not here.”

  But turnabout is fair play. I quickly lean over and bat his hands away, inhaling his scent before taking the thick base in my hand. I run my tongue over the ridge on the head, lapping up the bit of precum pooled at the tip. He sucks in air between his teeth, his hand going to the back of my head.

  The taste of him only makes me more hungry for it. I’ve never done this before, not even with him, and now I’m wondering why the hell not. The feel of his thick cock in my mouth and in my hand is surprisingly delighting me. I thought this was just something girls did for guys, to please them, but I’ve barely gotten started and already know I’ve been missing out.

  I go at him, not sure what’s gotten into me. So often it’s like this with him: instincts I didn’t even know I had take over. But I want him so much. I want to swirl my tongue around the tip, reveling in the way he responds to my touch. I want to take him in a little more, and a little more, until I’m taking him in as deep as I can get him. He’s angling himself up more to me, and gently pushing my head down. He’s breathing hard, letting out low, deep moans.

  Encouraged, I follow his clues: sucking hard where he likes it. Letting my teeth trail lightly down his shaft as I maneuver up and down. My saliva coats his shaft and is pooling at the base near my hand, and still I keep going.

  I’m thrilled with every sign of the pleasure I’m giving him: the way his cock gets harder and harder under my hand, the way his thigh clenches under my arm. In fact, everywhere my body touches his, he’s rock hard.

  “I’m gonna come,” he warns. But I already know. I feel it in his entire, massive body.

  A thrill of anticipation rushes through me. I have no idea if I’ll be able to handle what’s coming. But I want it, and don’t let up. The next second he jerks hard and I’m filled with my own pleasure as I swallow and suck eagerly. There’s so much, but I take it all, feeling like the queen of the fucking world.

  As he finishes, I slow my movements, following his lead. I keep him in my mouth, playing with him slow and gently until he softly taps the underside of my chin with his finger. I come off him gently and grin up at him.

  He looks down at me, his face washed soft with lingering pleasure. He brushes my hair gently, cupping the back of my head as he brings me up to him. We kiss slowly, deeply. I smell him. I taste him. I taste myself.

  When we pull apart, we stay close, our breaths mingling as we look at each other. We smile a bit, the thrill of doing something so reckless and hot lighting our eyes.

  “You. Are. Naughty,” he breathes.

  I grin. This is so much better than a phone call. “You started it.”

  “That’s true.” He gives me another kiss, then smiles broadly. “You’re welcome.”

  I get Mason for five whole days. He took a couple vacation days from work and I’m ditching at least one session in four of my classes. We fly to Cabo San Lucas tomorrow and won’t come home until the day after Valentine’s Day. He’ll get a little time to check on the renovations at the house, then fly back to Illinois that night. I’m trying not to dread another separation, and just enjoy the fact that he’s actually here, and that we’ll get a long weekend in such a luxurious location.

  We won’t see my cousins until we’re all back at the airport tomorrow morning, so we have tonight to ourselves. It turns out we’re both pretty hungry—a need that’s easier to recognize now that certain other urges have been taken care of, for the moment—so we eat at one of my favorite Mexican food places that’s right on the boardwalk. Afterward we walk along the water, talking and laughing, until our kisses get too heated to ignore and we head back to my place.

  We spend most the night going at it like we’re making up for lost time. Because we are. Then there are the in-between moments. The moments when our voices are low and quiet, and I’m tucked so safe and snug inside his arms. His embrace has lost none of its magic.

  In his arms, I actually believe that his mother will come around, instead of worrying that I’m being horribly selfish and reckless with everyone involved. In his arms, that little knot of darkness that lives inside me shrinks to nothingness. Just, nothing. As if it never even existed.

  It’s truly a wonder how the sanctuary of Mason’s arms makes me forget, even if just for a moment, all the things that scare me.

  Chapter 21

  Mason

  Rayce isn’t on the morning flight down to Cabo San Lucas. Apparently, this is two of three trips Connor’s plane is making from Swan Pointe to the wedding destination. Whitney and her entourage went last night, so she could spend today getting ready for the big event. Connor, Lizzy and Brett, and Corrine and I are on this flight, along with four of Whitney’s family members who they picked up in San Francisco earlier. Another flight will take a group this afternoon, mostly with people from L.A.

  I’m told Rayce will be on that shuttle because he has work to do this morning. Corrine and Lizzy go out of their way to reassure me that this dedication to work is normal Rayce-like behavior, as if to make sure I know his absence has nothing to do with me. I still wonder. Nevertheless, I’m here. If it seems like Rayce needs space from me during the wedding and reception, I’ll do my best to give it to him. I figure there’s so much going on at events like this, it shouldn’t be hard to do.

  I have to say, though, I could get used to this private jet thing. The seats are black plush leather, equipped with comfortable arm rests, and wide enough to give even a guy like me plenty of space. And the leg room! Don’t even get me started.

  There are two seating clusters on this plane. The first is toward the front, and has four seats, two facing forward and two back, with the aisle down the middle, so people can talk to one another easily. Whitney’s relatives are up there.

  The second cluster consists of two seats on one side of the aisle, facing one another, with a mahogany work table that can be set up or folded down, and a sideways row of three chairs right next to one another, so if you pull up the armrests, together they make a plush couch. This is where Corrine and I are sitting, and we do have the armrest between us pulled up. She’s leaning against me, and my arm is wrapped over her shoulders.

  Connor’s on the other side of Corrine, angled against the back and arm, legs stretched out, looking like he could use a nap. Apparently, between preparations for the wedding and getting the resort ready for his two-week absence, the last several days have kept him hopping.

  Lizzy and Brett are in the seats opposite us, the table between them holding a half-eaten tray of meats and cheeses, and their empty wine glasses. I had a beer and called it good, but I complimented Connor on the stock in his mini bar, along with the ridiculously luxurious lavatory this plane has. There’s a pilot and co-pilot, but the copilot has doubled as a steward and taken care of our needs.

  It’s a completely foreign experience, but one I’m enjoying, I won’t lie.

  Beyond the luxury of the trip so far (and we’re only just on the plane), I’m relieved with how things have gone with her family. There’s been no awkwardness between any of us. No animosity. For most of the trip, I actually forgot who they are. Sort of like I have with Corinne. They’re nice people, and it’s been fun to talk to them.

  I’m actually pretty impressed with Connor, and have prompted him with plenty of questions to keep him telling me more about his travels all over the world. That led to him sharing how he and Whitney met. It’s not that I’m a romantic sap or anything, but it’s a pretty incredible story.

  His face lights up when he talks about her too, and I’m glad to see that. Sometimes you see people get married, and wonder what in the heck they’re thinking. But even though I barely know them, t
his is a couple I’m rooting for.

  As I’ve been listening to him, I’ve settled a little deeper into my seat, tucking Corrine’s head a little closer against me, resting my hand on top of her head. The soft floral notes of her shampoo tickle my nose. Her body is warm and snug against mine. She’s lightly tracing her fingertips over the top of my thigh, and I’ve been stroking her hair, not really realizing I was doing it at first.

  Once I do realize it, I’m struck by two things. First, that I already feel comfortable enough around her family to openly show her this affection and not worry about what they might think about us. And two, I find myself imagining what would it be like to have the kind of love Connor has for Whitney. What would it be like to find your person? The one person you feel built for.

  I can’t help but wonder if Corinne could turn into that person for me. If she did, what would it mean to be part of her family, and her be a part of mine?

  In spite of the rich warmth I feel deep inside me just by being next to her, there’s a pinch of pain as I ask myself those questions. Because in our case, I’m not sure the answers will be pretty.

  Cabo San Lucas is an interesting city, with a mix of modern buildings and newer areas, with older parts of town. Many of the buildings are pastel colored or white adobe, and some of the main streets are lined with palm trees. We’re taking town cars from the airport, and Corrine and I are eyes all over everything. Connor’s in the car with us, and explains this is a tourist town and more developed than some of the more traditional Mexican towns along the coast. He points out different places he knows, and even gets the driver to take a detour past a lesser-known restaurant he tells us we must try while we’re here.

  The area surrounding Cabo is arid, rocky hills, which is somehow different than I expected, but the city itself has more greenery alongside a healthy share of cacti. When we get to the coast I see for myself why so many people come here. The ocean is impossibly beautiful. It really is as blue as it looks in the pictures. Corrine was right. I can’t wait to get on that beach.

  It’s almost enough to distract me from the one thing that makes me even more nervous than seeing Rayce again: meeting Corrine’s parents. Her father is Grant Rivers’ brother, but I’m past worrying about that connection. I care more about the fact that he’s the father of the woman I’m dating, and she says that’s all he cares about, too.

  “But he’s nice,” she reassures me. “He’s excited to meet you.”

  Uh-huh. Because that’s the word dads use when they’re getting ready to meet the guy dating their daughter. Excited.

  We eventually pull up the curving drive of a massive house I’ve been told is damn near 10,000 square feet, and that’s not an exaggeration. That’s the actual, literal number. There’s an abundance of windows all along the back side of the house that give a gorgeous view of the ocean. The man who owns it apparently met Connor during his travelling days, and Connor ended up investing in his tech start up. Took the hell off, it did. I’m starting to think I’m in the wrong line of work.

  We get to the upstairs loft which is probably a good thousand square feet all by itself, and is where the ceremony will be held. This event, which I’ve more than once heard referred to as a “simple” affair with a “limited, family only” guest list, still involves several grandparents, aunts, uncles, something like thirty cousins, and a handful of people close enough to either the bride or the groom to be considered family anyway.

  In addition to our arrival party of nine, there’s another twenty people here already, with more to come. Connor hired another charter jet that originated in Seattle, so her parents and their spouses are among those already here. There are greetings between family members all around, and I’m introduced to everyone.

  Corrine’s parents and their spouses are actually pretty nice. In fact, Corrine must have tipped them off about what I do, because not long after meeting them, her dad asks if I want to check out the sports cars the owner has in his ten-car garage.

  I cannot jump on that fast enough. Corrine smiles and gives me a kiss on the cheek. “I guess I’m safe to leave you now.” She winks at me and leaves to attend to her bridesmaid duties. That was a pretty clever hand-off, I must say.

  Her dad and I and several others head to the garage and I have a grand old time almost right up until it’s time for the ceremony to start. Her dad did ask the obligatory dad questions, but it wasn’t a big deal. It’s hard not to feel comfortable with a guy when you’re bonding over a 2016 Aston Martin Vanquish.

  In the middle of all this, I get a call from Mom, but of course I can’t answer so I let it go to voice mail. She doesn’t leave a message, but sends a text. She’s decided to finally get a new disposal and wants to know if I’ll replace it for her.

  Of course. She finally reaches out to me and I have to put her off.

  Me: Sure. I have a pretty busy weekend. Is next Saturday all right?

  Yes, I feel guilty. But I wasn’t going to tell her where I was going with things the way they are between us. I hope she doesn’t stop by my apartment, but even if she does, my truck’s in the airport garage, so hopefully she’ll just think I’m out. She hasn’t been stopping by lately anyway.

  I know I’ll have to straighten things out with her eventually, but it’s going to have to wait.

  It’s when I’m sitting in a row towards the back that I get my first glimpse of Rayce since Thanksgiving Day. The crowd has all been settled, a string quartet begins to play, and Connor and the groomsmen take their places up front.

  Rayce is the best man, of course, which gets me wondering, again, why he would choose to work this morning instead of fly down with his brother and help out. But Connor didn’t seem bothered by it, and even remarked on the plane that everything was done on his end and there was nothing left but to put on his tux and say ‘I do’, so maybe it really wasn’t an issue.

  Besides, even though I have my doubts about how Rayce really feels about me being here, he doesn’t strike me as the kind of person to put his brother in a bind just so he can shy away from me.

  Connor is watching the back of the room anxiously, waiting for his bride to appear. He’s smiling, and lets out a little nervous exhalation through pursed lips. Rayce notices, smiles, and claps his brother encouragingly on the shoulder. A soft twitter of acknowledgement flutters around the audience.

  I am struck yet again by the character trait that is so obvious in the young patriarch of this family. Even as angry as I was on Thanksgiving Day, even as little as I cared for him in that moment, I recognized it then too. Rayce feels responsible for them all, and I’d wager a bet that his caretaking of them is as natural as breathing.

  Or maybe Rayce isn’t the one I’m thinking of.

  The bridesmaids appear at the back of the room, all in slim coral dresses and looking lovely as bridesmaids tend to do, but my eyes never leave Corinne’s face. With apologies to the bride, she’s the most beautiful woman in the room. Her smile is both youthful and elegant. And positively radiant.

  Her eyes find mine immediately, and I grin at her. She gives me a wink, and slowly starts down the aisle. Her slender hands hold a bouquet of long-stemmed white calla lilies, and her modest heels give her stride an extra dose of grace. She was not raised in this world of wealth the way her cousins were, and has a more natural quality that I find appealing and relatable, but she slides into this world of beauty so effortlessly. I’m in awe of her.

  As she makes her way toward us, her eyes skip to mine again and again. I can’t stop smiling at her, and even when she’s gone past and can’t see, I continue to smile at her. This woman makes me happy.

  When she gets to the front, just before she takes her place and turns to face us, I glance to the men in front again. Rayce has been watching me. Our eyes rest on one another moment, then he looks to Corinne as she turns around, finds me, and smiles. I know what he’s doing. He’s trying to figure us out. But if he can’t see it just by looking at our faces, there’s nothing I can s
ay to explain it.

  The string quartet transitions smoothly to the famous Bridal March and the audience rises on cue. But I take my time looking away from the only woman in the room who matters to me.

  After the ceremony, we all make our way toward the back. Corinne is waiting for me and I kiss her before she links her arm through mine and we descend the wide, curving, gleaming wooden staircase to the main floor, which is being put to use as a reception area. The decorations have been given a light touch and are primarily limited to the floral centerpieces. The room itself, with its knotted, beamed ceiling and view of the ocean, didn’t need much else.

  There is however an abundance of food on the tables along one wall. Clearly no expense was spared. I see fucking lobster tails over there.

  Mere minutes after we reach the bottom, Rayce makes a point of coming over.

  “Corrine,” he says, giving her a hug, “you did a great job.” He lightly bops the tip of her nose with his finger, to which she responds with a wry look.

  He smiles and turns his attention to me, extending his hand. I take it, and we shake amicably, no one trying to outman the other as it was the first time we did this. I take it as a good sign.

  “Hi, Mason,” he says. “I’m glad you decided to come.”

  “Thank you for having me.”

  He nods, looking slightly uncomfortable, like there’s a chink in that armor of his. “It was important to Corrine.” She gives him a brief, sharp look, as if in rebuke, but I don’t think he sees it. “I mean, you’re welcome here. Of course you are.”

  Yes, here is the awkwardness I was worried about, but I’m feeling awkward too, to be honest. And he doesn’t look angry or threatened the way he did last time, so we’re making good progress as far as I’m concerned.

  I nod my head again. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

  Just then, a tall leggy brunette slides to his side. He introduces her as his date, a different woman than the one I saw him with New Year’s Eve, I note. “Be sure to get plenty of food,” he tells us. “They ordered enough for an army.”