Elements of Desire

by C. M. Stunich

  "Are there really zoos?" I asked, because while I didn't put it past rich people to do really fucked up things, it also came across as … farfetched and shittier than a stopped-up toilet.

  "There are," George said softly, his brown eyes locked on mine. I couldn't tell what he was thinking and that scared the shit out of me. "But if Gemma was in one, then how did she get out?" he continued, glancing over at the dastardly duo across the aisle. "I'm not trying to refute your claim or mock your pain, Gem, but you have to understand how strange this is for all of us."

  "And comin' on the same plane as the rest of us?" Shane piped up from the last row. "That's a little low class, Gem, and you know it."

  Gem spun around with the perfect pouty girl face, hair artfully disheveled, nice even streaks of mascara streaking down her cheeks. Her wide eyes reminded me of a baby deer—an evil baby deer though. Like Satan's pet baby deer.

  "Don't you think this is weird for me, too? I was captured, kidnapped, abused for ten long years and I come back to find my men, my hearts, married to another woman?! I'm breaking inside, Shane!"

  "Whoa, whoa, cool your jets," Warden said from in front of me, turning around to stare at Gem with his hazel eyes. Fuck, seeing him gave me butterflies still. It was like a fairy-tale having him back in my life … a fairy-tale with a villain in the shape of Gemma Darling. "We looked everywhere for you, Gem. And so did COCS. If you were being held somewhere … then how did you get out?"

  Warden slicked his hand through his spiked hair, casting me a look and a nod, as if to say, listen, Smokey, I am on your side, ai'ight? He better be. They all better be. Even if Gemma had been in … a zoo? like really? … but even if she had been, that didn't matter. Whether she deserved sympathy and support or not, that was irrelevant when it came to my relationship with the guys.

  They were mine and they were going to stay mine.

  "More to the point," George, perceptive as ever, added, "we were never dating, Gemstone … err … I mean, Gemma."

  Fucking Gemstone?! Ugh, he is so lucky he just corrected that.

  "Maybe not then, but that's because we were young." She sniffed dramatically, and an honest to Dionysus—Greek god of wine, obviously my patron deity—tear slipped from her eye.

  Oh, she was good. She was really good.

  "Well, tough shit," I snapped, thoroughly sick of her crap. "You snooze, you lose. We’re married now, so pull up your big girl panties and walk away with what's left of your dignity still intact, yeah?"

  "And how do you suggest I do that, Arizona? We're thirty thousand feet in the air, in case you hadn't noticed?" The way Gemma snarled my name made me think she'd given it an ulterior meaning, much as I'd done with Joan. Fucking Joan.

  "You know what I mean," I growled, feeling my lip curl in a menacing way. "As soon as this flight lands in L.A., you need to get the fuck off and not follow us on our damn honeymoon! I mean, how desperate are you, anyway? I thought there was a shortage of elemental woman, so it should be a cakewalk to get your own harem of plumbers."

  "I have my own harem," she spat at me, dropping all pretense of nice and looking like fucking Medusa or something, "and I will not let you have them."

  "Okay!" The immaculately dressed flight attendant stopped in the aisle between us and clapped her hands. The smile pasted to her bright red lips was so forced it was practically sticky taped in place. "If we can't stop bickering, someone is getting moved all the way to the back of economy. You're ruining the flight for everyone else who paid to be in first."

  Her plastic smile never faltered for a second, but the hard as dick look in her eyes as she met each of our gazes individually said she wasn't fucking around. As tempted as I was to push it, in the hopes it'd be Gemma fucking Darling getting moved, it'd be just my luck that it'd be me.

  Folding my arms under my breasts once more, I huffed and sat back in my seat. Around me, I sensed everyone else doing the same. Probably the smartest thing … flight attendants, I was sure, were ninjas in disguise.

  "Excuse me, Miss?" Joan’s priggish voice broke the awkward silence and I mentally cheered. Yessss, Joan! Piss her off more and get your ass tossed in cattle class, you raging bitch. "May I have more champagne?" Damn it! Ugh. Was it really so much to ask, that Joan get a little karmic retribution?

  "You know," Dustin murmured in my ear, his huge palm closing over my knee then sliding a little higher up my thigh. "I'm finding this jealousy a serious turn-on right now, my wee leprechaun."

  I snorted a laugh, but didn't disagree. It was getting me a bit hot under the sink myself.

  "Oh yeah?" I quirked an eyebrow at him, ignoring the hard-ass hostess as she pulled out my tray table for me and set it with a tablecloth and cutlery. "Well what are you going to do about that then?"

  A broad grin spread over Dusty's sexy fucking face, with his red-brown stubble and those luscious lips … I could already picture them closed over my pert nipple as he—

  "Wait and see, little gobshite," he winked, "now enjoy your meal. Did you decide on chicken or steak?"

  The rapid change of subject left me blinking stupidly at him. What? Chicken or … how the hell had we gone from dirty talk to chicken or steak?!

  Wait … "Steak is an option?!" I exclaimed. "Holy hell, I am never flying economy again."

  Dustin snickered and plucked the expensive looking card from my seat pocket, presented the menu to me, and sure enough … filet mignon with creamy mash and asparagus, served with a red wine jus.

  "You had me at red wine jus," I mumbled under my breath, drooling a little as I read the rest of the menu then placed my order with the hostess who had returned with a drink trolley. She also provided me with a seriously over-poured glass of Pinot Noir and a wink to tell me she was on my side.

  Deciding my best option was to ignore Joan and Gemma completely, I clicked into the impressively large TV screen. A nice shoot 'em up movie would be perfect.

  Sipping my wine slowly, I tapped through the options on offer on the touchscreen, moaning with delight as the plum and raspberry flavors rolled across my tongue. Not as good as the expensive shit in my wine cellar back home, but still damn good wine.

  Dustin glanced over at me when I moaned, and raised his red brows. Meeting his gaze, I slowly licked my lips, savoring the taste of the wine before moaning again. As expected, his eyes widened and flared with heat, but I just chuckled and pulled on my headphones.

  "Enjoy your meal, Dusty," I teased, then blocked him out as the heavenly smelling piece of meat was presented to me. My steak, I mean. Not any other heavenly meat … at least, not yet.

  After finishing my steak, I continued watching The Expendables while sipping steadily on my wine, which the hostess was beyond attentive in refilling for me. By the time the movie ended, half the cabin was already asleep in their lie-flat beds, eye masks on and window shades pulled down.

  "Are you ready for your bed?" The lovely woman—Carol, her name was—asked me as I yawned and stretched, taking off my headphones and looking around.

  Gemma and Joan were already asleep of course, and looking fucking perfect while they slept too. Bitches.

  "Um, yeah. Yes, that'd be great." I nodded, and stood to move out of the way so she could make the bed up for me. Or … I tried to stand. More like I staggered out of the way because I was drunk as fuck.

  Carol cracked a grin at me standing in the aisle and swaying while she pressed the button which converted my seat to a bed, then laid out a mattress topper, pillow and doona—that’s a blanket, Americans!—for me.

  "Don't worry, doll. I'll sort out some hair of the dog for when you wake up." She winked at me, then disappeared in a swish of her black, red and pink dress.

  The plane bumped a little, and I almost lost my balance. Luckily I caught myself on a seat back just inches before landing with my ass on Gemma's face.

  "Yep," I murmured to myself, "sleep time for Ari."

  Righting myself, I crawled onto my bed and tucked the blanket up over me. Once com
fy, I turned my head to the side and my eyes locked on a pair of stormy green ones just inches from my face.

  "Dusty," I murmured in my drunk, sleepy voice. "You're so damn sexy."

  He grinned wickedly, folding and tucking his pillow under his head so we both lay on our sides facing one another. "As are you, lucky charms. But you're not seriously going to sleep in that dress and boots, are you?"

  "Erm." I blinked stupidly, glancing down at my tits, one of which was almost falling out of the tight bandage dress. "Maybe?"

  "Hmm," he murmured, snaking a hand out of his blanket and under mine, resting it on my bare thigh. Like I said, bandage dresses weren't amazing at staying in place when moving around on planes and mine was riding really high up my thighs.

  "I'm not complainin', love. It does give me easier access to do this, after all." His voice was low and husky, like an Italian red … like Chianti in voice form. The this he was talking about was the finger he'd slipped from my outer thigh, to my inner one, and then burrowed under my barely-there knickers.

  "Oh," I gasped, as he slipped that questing finger straight inside me without any further warning as to what he was going to do. But that was Dustin, through and through. He saw what he wanted and he fucking took it, consequences be damned.

  It was one of the things I fucking loved about him.

  "Uh-huh," I whispered, parting my legs slightly and allowing him greater access to my hungry pussy. It was my wedding day. My wedding day. And yet I still hadn't had an orgasm yet! What kind of fucked-up bullshit was that?

  Dustin was clearly about to remedy that for me though …

  "More," I begged—quietly—and he obliged me by slipping a second digit in to join the first, pumping into me a few times before adding a third. Oh. Fuck. Yes.

  "Christ," he muttered, his own breathing labored and his blanket tenting slightly where his huge dick was standing to attention. Hell, he wasn't even lying on his back and I could still see it through the fabric, it was that damn big. It was, without a doubt, a big, beautiful penis.

  "I’mma need to get my cock into you," he informed me, even as his thumb located my clit piercing and toyed with it. "Grab yer shit like yer gonna get changed; I'll meet you in the cludgie."

  My drunk, sleepy brain took a moment to translate what he was saying in my head, but once I figured out that he was telling me he wanted to fuck me in the bathroom, I couldn't get out of my seat/bed fast enough.

  "Can I help?" Carol asked me, appearing from fucking nowhere and making me scream with fright as I tried to pull my bag out of the overhead locker.

  "Nope!" I shook my head, yanking my sweats from my bag and holding them up. "Just going to change into something more comfortable."

  She nodded and smiled at me, stepping out of the way so I could head to the little bathroom which was set not far in front of Gemma's seat. As I pushed the door open, my eyes caught on her not-so-sleeping form as she lay there with her eyes open, glaring death at me. With a triumphant smirk, I pushed into the bathroom and quickly stripped naked in anticipation of Dustin joining me.

  Thankfully, my Irish husband was just as much of a dirty horndog as I was, and he didn't keep me waiting there long before tapping lightly on the door, then pushing inside me. I mean with me.

  With the addition of a tall, broad shouldered Irishman, the little bathroom suddenly became very cramped indeed. But that was fine by me—it'd just mean we needed to get closer.

  "How's this going to work?" I whispered to him, chewing my lip as butterflies went wild inside me. We were going to fuck in first class. Holy shit, I was actually joining the Mile High Club!

  Best. Wedding present. Ever.

  "Look at you," he smirked, trailing his eyes and his hands over my stark naked body. My dress and underwear were tossed in the sink and my boots were kicked to a corner on the floor along with my bra. "Eager for my cock to be in ye, eh?"

  Something about the way he said cock made me wet. Like, seriously fucking wet.

  Ugh. How sexy are accents, am I right?!

  "It's my wedding day," I protested, planting my hands on my hips. Err, well, at least trying to plant my hands on my hips. Mostly I ended up slamming them into the bathroom wall and the soap dispenser. A small bit of gooey white stuff shot out onto the countertop. Eh, appropriate analogy, right? "I'm due a little fun, don't you think?" As if I wasn't slutty on any other regular day, huh? But the wedding thing provided a nice excuse.

  Oh, and also, I meant slutty as like a descriptor, you know, because I'm taking the word back. Nothing wrong with being slutty.

  "Oh, aye," Dustin purred, moving up next to me. And when I say moving up next to me, what I mean is: scooting forward like an inch until my bare breasts brushed against his chest. "The wedding's not official until it's been consummated, right?"

  I snorted.

  "What century do you live in? Like 1526? Puh-lease. It's totally official."

  "I don't think it is," Dustin growled, cupping the back of my head and grabbing a fistful of my perfectly coiffed and lovely hair. I hadn't spent all that time getting fucked around by Britt to go and ruin a good hairstyle just yet. There was so much hairspray on my goddamn scalp that I felt certain the updo would last through the next ice age. And considering … gag … Trump was president and totally licking coal plants’ buttholes, that probably would be happening fairly soon anyway. "Ya see, I'm Irish and Catholic—"

  "You are not Catholic," I said with a raised brow, shivering as Dustin ran his big palm down my spine and made me shiver. He too bumped the soap dispenser and squirted shimmery white liquid onto the counter. Again, appropriate real life metaphor.

  "Irish, Catholic, and old-fashioned as fuck," he continued, ignoring me as he curled his fingers around my ass and jerked me closer. Tough feat that, considering we were in a friggin’ cubicle. "So I say we have to consummate it or it doesn't count."

  "I hate you," I told him and he grinned, sliding his hand down my thigh and then lifting it up, pushing me back slightly and propping my foot on the closed seat of the toilet.

  "This is gonna take some maneuvering, think you can handle it?" he whispered, reaching down to unbutton his pants. Unlike me, Dustin had changed into a much more practical outfit: loose-fitting holey jeans and a t-shirt. Damn the patriarchy for making me think I needed to dress to please the male gaze!

  "Oh, I can handle it," I purred right back, hoping I sounded like all sexy and husky and stuff. "Fuck me, oh dear and beautiful husband. Make it official." I batted my eyelashes and did my best to hold back a laugh as Dusty took hold of my other thigh and I wrapped it around him. Curling my fingers around his neck, I bit my lower lip and locked eyes with him, waiting for him to guide his cock to my opening.

  Oh yeah.

  First time in the Mile High Club for this chick.

  Eek, I'm so lucky!

  "You ready for this?" he asked with a smirk, and then drove into me and grabbed my other leg at the same moment, lifting me completely up and crushing me into the wall. To stifle my groan, I bit into his shoulder and exhaled sharply, the thick heavy length of him pushing balls-deep inside of me. "Now, it's fully fecking official, Mrs. Dustin MacKenna."

  "You're Mr. Smoke," I growled back, but my feminist retort was cut short by a moan as he cupped my ass tight and pulled our bodies even closer together. Fuuuuck, why does that feel so damn good?

  "Call me sir, and I'll consider letting you keep your last name," he said and I actually did stop to bite him in the ear for that one. Piece of shit. What an asshole. But like, a hung asshole so temporarily, I would let it go.

  As cramped and weird and slutty as this moment was—and again, I say slutty as a good thing—I wouldn't change it for the world.

  No, nothing could make this moment better, nothing could ruin—

  Knock, knock, knock.

  "Fuck a nun's dry cunt," I snarled as Dustin froze, buried in my not-so-dry cunt.

  "Excuse me"—it was the flight attendant again—"but federal regul
ations prohibit the use of the restroom by more than one passenger at a time. I'm so sorry, but I'll have to ask one of you to come out of there immediately."

  "Tell them you'll get the air marshal," a voice whispered, and I recognized it right away as Gemma. I was going to fucking murder that bitch first chance I got. Like, off of an airplane and away from an airport so I wouldn't get caught and imprisoned for it.

  "Think of an excuse!" I whisper-shouted as Dustin drove into me again and made my eyes water with sheer ecstasy.

  "She's incontinent!" he yelled in that deliciously drool-worthy accent of his. "She needs help with her fecking diaper and her, uh, catheter. Can you give us a bleeding moment? It's a medical emergency."

  "Wh-what?!" I stammered out, but then Dustin was cupping my ass with one strong hand and using the other to cover my mouth.

  His green eyes met mine and he pumped his hips up and into me, his shaft in just the right position to catch my G-spot. Squeezing my legs around him, I held on tight while he thrust nice and deep, hitting the end of me, drawing sounds from my throat that I knew the flight attendant could probably hear.

  Beads of sweat collected on the back of his neck as I teased his hair with my fingers, played with the red strands while I kept our gazes locked tight. I wanted to see his expression when he came. This stranger who was now weirdly my husband. But eh, screw it. He was basically an eleven out of ten on the hot scale, so even if he was a right proper asshole, I'd keep him.

  Dustin let go of my mouth, leaned forward and captured my lips, kissing me with a possessive passion that sent chills skittering through my body, making my toes curl. I could barely breathe, definitely couldn't think, and my eyes felt heavy and half-lidded with sex.

  "Come for me, ye little gobshite," Dustin growled, and the sound reverberating through his chest is what really did it for me. Of course, I tried to resist because it felt like I was coming on command, buuuuuut, yeah, so I didn't actually try that hard.

  Pleasure exploded through me in a rush, my muscles tightening naturally around my husband's thick shaft. He pumped a few more times, nice and fast and hard, amping up the intensity of my orgasm. And then, he came with a really loud groan that the entire plane probably picked up on!