by Poppy Dunne
“Obama Kenobi?”
While I get him quickly up to speed on the spell, we wait for the Quidditch field to clear. Then, it’s show time. My heart’s hammering, blood buzzing in my ears. Who knew a bunch of nerdy children would be the most demanding audience I’d ever have?
This was not how you were supposed to spend the day. It was going to be nice, relaxing, a little bit of fun mixed with family time. Those are all the very sensible things my brain is telling me.
But I’m also having fun. That’s something I haven’t had a lot of recently, if I’ll admit it. Maybe living life by the Jack Carraway code isn’t a recipe for total disaster. Jack adjusts his robes, rolls his head back and forth like he’s preparing for a boxing match, and puts up his wand.
Not in the dirty way.
“Let’s go, Miss Gardener.”
“Granger.”
“Her, too.”
We tromp out to the center of the lawn, and I’m already biting my tongue to try not to laugh. The kids are watching with rapt attention as we take our positions opposite each other. “Are you ready, you dastardly scoundrel?” I call to him.
“Where’s Harry?” one of the little girls in the front row calls out, looking around in confusion. “Why’s Hermione fighting?”
“Girls can fight just as well,” I call back with confidence. Besides, everyone knows Harry would’ve been lost without Hermione. Ron, eh, take him or leave him.
Okay, now that my nerd cred’s been painfully established, let’s continue.
The ‘fight’ doesn’t last too long, simply Jack and I shouting insults in ridiculous Latin back and forth at each other. We keep ‘deflecting’ each other’s spells, until he comes back with the ultimate curse—the avada kedavra.
“Avocado cadaver!” he shouts, thrusting his wand at me.
Well, it was close. The children gasp, and one boy even covers his eyes. Fortunately, I dodge the spell, and end by disarming Voldemort of his wand. He falls backwards to the grass, hissing as I stand over him, wand right by his nose.
“What do you say now?” I ask triumphantly, smiling at the children.
“You handle that wand with such skill.” I can tell that, behind the latex mask, Jack’s eyebrows are wiggling. Mmm, there’s some wand handling in your future, good sir. Holding back a laugh, I poke him in the stomach.
“Say you’re sorry for trying to spoil this nice little girl’s party.” I look over to find Gabby clapping excitedly, her little wizard hat drooping over one eye.
“Sorry,” Voldemort says, and the children applaud. I help Jack stand, and we take a short bow. Then his hand grazes my ass, and I tap him in the thigh for good measure. There are children watching, O Dark Lord.
“I think we’d better get out of here. Evelyn’s paying too much attention to me,” Jack murmurs. He’s right. Evelyn’s watching us with an expression somewhere between amazement and confusion. I even catch her checking her iPhone, perhaps looking up a contact list, or the roster of employees. Well, if Jack feels it’s too weird for a family reveal now, I’m not going to tell him what to do.
“Should we hightail it back to the jet?” I ask as we slip away to the edges of the party. I frown as I watch Pete—I mean, Hagrid—bouncing Gabby up in the air while she kicks her legs gleefully. “I think Pete should talk to Evelyn.”
“Of course. He’s staying behind. Let’s give them some privacy.” Jack guides me away from the party, down the back lawn and out towards the drive. “Glad we could get away untouched.”
“Really?” I bat my eyelashes at him. “You don’t want any touching?”
“Get into something age appropriate, and I’ll amend that answer,” he says, sliding his arm around me, hooking me against him. I bring my lips close to the mask.
“Take your face off, and it’s a deal.”
“This is the weirdest relationship of my life,” he murmurs. “And I like it.”
18
Jack
“Do you think I should keep the robe on?” Dahlia asks once we’re aboard the jet and the champagne is flowing. When we got on board and took off, she stepped into the shower for a minute to clean up, but then realized we’d made a mistake with her wardrobe. The change of clothes we brought is still at Pete’s house. Not here. In the interest of not wearing Hermione Granger’s hand me downs, she’s now in a white silk bathrobe.
I’m not going to complain.
“Definitely. We can have a change brought to you at the airfield when we land, in case you don’t want to cosplay all the way home.” I clink glasses with her as she nestles closer, which is fine by me. Her creamy skin seems to glow against the silk of the robe. It’s open at the neck, allowing a slight glimpse of cleavage. A classy glimpse, of course. Everything’s classy here.
I think about getting her out of that robe. But first, I’d better get out of mine.
“I think the pilot was amused by your appearance,” Dahlia giggles as I pull my wizard robe over my head and discard it in a pool on the floor. “I can’t believe you didn’t take off the mask until we were on board.”
“Always stay in character.” There, disrobed, now back to champagne time. Dahlia’s curled up with her feet under her, relaxing against a lush leather bench. The seats in this jet were designed to be so sumptuous you could practically sink into them, and they’ve done their job. I sit next to her, drinking as I trail my hand up her leg. Start at the ankle, work your way up the silky curve of the calf, then a little higher…a little higher…
“I think you’re trying to seduce me,” Dahlia says into her glass, raising an eyebrow. She’s giving me the look that says she’s onto me. Good. I want her onto me. Right now.
“I think it’s working.” I take the glasses and put them down, while she acts surprised.
“I’m parched after that strenuous workout,” she drawls. Indeed. Who knew magical dueling took so much out of a person? I lean in and kiss her once, quickly, just enough to make her moan softly when I stop. Enough to make her inch forward, wanting more. Soon. Very soon.
Insert any ‘make magic happen’ joke you’d like here, then kindly get out. The lady and I need to be alone.
“Pete seemed happy,” she says. Her eyes gleam with amusement. “I hope the kids liked their surprise.”
“Mmm.” I don’t want to stay too long on that subject, obviously. After all, Dahlia doesn’t need to know everything…but I’d like her to. That’s a startling moment for me. God, I want to bring this woman up to speed on all my half-crazy, fully awesome schemes. Why? Because she balances it all out. She has enough fun with it, but also pulls against me. She restrains me in a good way. “I’ve never had this much, well, fun before,” I tell her. She wrinkles her nose, grinning.
“I’m a better time than gambling at Monte Carlo, or yachting in the Mediterranean?”
“Yes, because Monte Carlo and the Mediterranean don’t have such impeccable breasts,” I say. She rolls her eyes, still giggling, but I curse inwardly. That’s not what I wanted to tell her. Not what I wanted her to hear. “And they didn’t do so much to help my brother.” I trail my hand up her arm, reveling in the feel of her. This time, I’m not aiming for any erogenous zone; it’s about being present with her, connected in a way.
All thoughts I would’ve given my left nut to avoid, but now that I’m here…I like it. I like it too much.
“Pete’s a good guy. I’m glad I could help.” She smiles gently, her brow creasing with what looks like worry. “I didn’t know how much a tiramisu could do, but I’m glad it worked.”
“It’s not just the cake. It’s you. You gave him some hope, a place to relieve stress. A place to feel safe.” Because that’s part of what it is, maybe. Pete and I’ve been on our own, no other family, for a while now. Dahlia Rossi shot into my life with a loud mouth, yes, and knockout tits—oh yes—and a list of rules as long as my arm. But she also arrived knowing how to be part of a family, and she showed me what I’ve been missing.
I’ve missed i
t for so long, I’m not even sure I can find my way back.
But hell, I might be willing to try.
“What about you?” Her voice is breathy, maybe even shaking a bit. She watches me carefully, like I’m about to turn into a charmingly well-appointed snake and bite her. Maybe she’s more afraid of relationships than she let on? Or maybe…maybe she likes me more than she’s wanted to admit to herself.
Hell, what a great coincidence that would be.
“Truthfully? I can’t remember the last time,” I say, pulling her close against me, my lips brushing hers, “that I felt this good.”
Her hand slides up my leg, making a nice change of pace—usually it’s the other way around. Good thing, because my most cherished member is perking up as she comes to rest on it. She squeezes, just once, and now it’s my turn to moan. Fuck, everything this woman does turns me on.
“Then how’d you like to feel even better?” she whispers, kissing me, her lips parting. I pull her tight against me, fisting my hand in her hair, pulling back her head. She smiles, bites my lip and teases it between her teeth while I start pulling at her robe’s tie. I undo the thing, and the robe parts, giving me another glimpse of her perfect body. Dahlia moves fast, straddling me so that I can get a full show of what’s on display. I kiss between her breasts, then flick my tongue over her left nipple until it’s hard, peaked, and perfect. She moans, writhing against me as I slide a hand between her legs, finding her wet and waiting for me. I slide one finger into her luscious cunt, feeling her clench around me as I start to pump.
“Not yet,” she whispers, taking my hand away. I’m dizzy, puzzled, and straining against my goddamn pants. She lowers herself to her knees in front of me, tugging at me to come forward. Then her hands deftly find my belt buckle, and she starts undoing my pants. Oh, fuck yes.
In short order, she’s released my cock, which throbs in her hot little hand. Fuck, it feels so good as she strokes me, then leans over and kisses the tip. Groaning, I grip the seat; that was almost enough to send me spilling over the edge. Trying to keep control, I close my eyes as I feel her lips seal over the tip of me, her tongue swirling in a perfect, delicious rhythm. Fuck, I think I’m about to explode as she takes me deeper, her hand squeezing the very base of my cock. She moves perfectly, the rhythm persistent, her head bobbing back and forth.
Fuck, I could come right now.
“That’s right,” I hear myself whisper, though I think I’m about to have an out of body experience. “That’s it. God, don’t stop now.”
Already, every muscle in my body tenses, savoring the exquisite torture of her tongue, her mouth, her hand. She releases me for a moment, looking up at me with a look of serious self-satisfaction. She loves seeing me this way; she loves knowing how much I need what she’s doing. I’ve never wanted to be at the mercy of someone more in my life.
She licks me, long and slow, from the base to the tip before taking me back into her mouth. She begins again, the perfect rhythm starting up, and it’s all I can do to swallow, close my eyes, and will myself back under control. My breath catches, but I’m not ready for the end. Not yet. Not yet.
“Stop,” I say, my voice hoarse and ragged. Dahlia stops, pulling away and looking up at me with wide, concerned eyes. “I don’t want to come until I’m deep inside of you,” I whisper, pulling her to her feet. She groans as I kiss her, running my hand along her body, the swell of her breast, the soft valley of her stomach, all the way to slide between her legs. I circle her clit with my finger, and she buckles against me. With one easy move, I’ve got her lying on the bench, naked and panting, her face flushed as she gazes up at me.
Then I hit the ‘Do Not Disturb’ button, which I should have done before this. I wish there was a ‘Do Not Disturb Because Sex’ button, but that might be a little too specific for the flight attendants’ sensibilities.
Hands shaking, I fumble for the condom, rip, and apply the bastard while Dahlia struggles to pull my shirt up over my head. A second later and that’s gone as well, and her hands grip my back as I lie down on top of her. I grab her by the waist and lift her hips a little, and she works to go with me. Slowly, deliberately, I take my cock and glide it up and down the wet seam of her pussy, listening to her thrill and feeling her strain against me.
“Jack. Please,” she murmurs, her body going tense beneath me. Christ, I think she’s already on the verge of orgasm.
“Slow, baby. Slow,” I whisper against her throat, kissing her as I slide inside of her just to the tip—fuck, even I’m not sure I can control myself much longer. It takes everything I have to pull back out, and start that infuriatingly wonderful motion, up and down, never going in. Dahlia digs her nails into my back. Fuck, much harder and she’ll leave a mark.
I think I want that. I want her body to still feel the shape of me when I’m done, to know that I was there. That she was mine.
Dahlia’s impatient, and wraps her legs around me. She wants to draw me down, deep inside of her. I resist, leaning on my arms over her. Her eyes are wide and soulful, her lips parted with need.
“I need you,” she whispers. “Fuck me. Now.”
I’m a patient man, and I have self control. But I only have so much.
Slowly, taking my time, I sink into her inch by inch. Dahlia whimpers, still trying to pull me down, still trying to take me all the way. I don’t let her hurry this along, taking my time deliberately, until I’m finally buried inside of her as far as I can go. Her whole body trembles, her pussy clamping down tight on my cock. Fuck, she’s exquisite.
“Jack.” She moans my name over and over again, lifting her hips, squeezing me tight between her legs. “Please.” She whispers this last word in my ear, biting down delicately on my earlobe while she does. I stiffen; it takes everything in me not to come right now.
I start to move, thrusting into her as deep as I can go. As deep as it’s possible to go. She runs her fingers through my hair, moaning as she kisses me. I pull away, raising myself on my elbows over her, to look at her face. Her leg slides up and down my back, and she arches as I thrust. Every time she tries to hurry it up, I lean forward to kiss and bite at her neck, her breasts, to slow her down. Dahlia gasps, her eyes fluttering closed as I slide one hand between us to tap on her clit in time with my thrusts. That does it. Her whole body goes rigid again, and her face flushes a deeper red.
She’s ready. She’s on the edge.
I lower myself again, riding her harder. “Come for me. Now,” I growl in her ear. Her pussy clamps down even harder, trying to keep me inside. Her breath is coming in fast, exciting little gasps, her tits bouncing with every thrust.
Dahlia moans, back arching again…and then she cries out as I reach down and stroke her clit once more. Her whole body stiffens, and I listen to her cry out my name, wrapping her arms around my neck as she rides the orgasm out. The world turns white before my eyes, and I come right after her, pouring myself inside of her. Now, as we both catch our breath, I’m lying on top of her, breathing in the scent of her, all soap and sex. Who knew that was such a potent combination?
I might have a new product to sell.
I know exactly who I want to test the prototype.
“Is it technically the mile high club?” Dahlia asks as we disengage, and as I hold her against me. “I mean, we didn’t do it in the bathroom.”
“It’s a little bit of a cheat when you own the plane,” I admit. Then I shrug. “But I think we can make it work.”
“Before I knew you, I never cheated at anything,” she teases, kissing my chest and closing her eyes. My hand skims her naked back.
“Before I knew you,” I say, pressing my lips to her shoulder, “I never realized how much fun rules could be.”
19
Dahlia
“You sure there’ll be some adult clothes waiting when we land?” I ask Jack, laughing as I roll up my stupid Gryffindor socks. I couldn’t wear a bathrobe out onto the tarmac, after all. Right now, my nerd clothes plus my post-coital disheve
led state makes it look like Jack got lucky with an enthusiastic cosplayer at a convention. Not the most flattering look in the world, but he wears it well. He grins as we strap ourselves into our seats, prepping for landing. The flight attendant came back through, once the Do Not Disturb light had turned off, of course. Damn good thing we didn’t hit turbulence mid-coitus.
I mean, it would’ve been hilarious, but not at the time. Great story for parties, though.
“In the interest of not being a pervy old man, there’d better be.” He leans back in the seat and closes his eyes as the jet begins its descent. By descent, I mean it sort of glides so easily I barely notice anything; if I weren’t looking out the window, I’d swear we were still soaring high in the air. Jack’s technology makes him the Howard Hughes of today. But even better because, unlike Howard, I don’t think Jack’s going to end up living in a room in Las Vegas with a snaggly beard and jars of pee all around him.
I’m all for celebrating alternative lifestyles, but that one’s a bit much.
As we land, I glance over at Jack, still in his close-eyed Zen mode. Damn, but I don’t get to ogle him nearly as much as I’d like. He’s a tanned, perfectly sculpted spectacle of manhood, for one. But it’s more than the chiseled jaw, or the flawless abs, or the perfect hair, or the generous ‘endowment’ if you know what I mean, or the…sorry, I got lost on the endowment.
Right. I’m back.
It’s the passion he has for life, for his family, for his business. I’ve never met anyone who’s as on fire as this guy is, as hungry for new experience. This is the last thing I ever thought I’d want to get involved in. After all, I have set bedtimes, set routines—hell, I make schedules to make more schedules. The person I’ve sort of become these last few days is not, well, me.