Authors: Kate Dawes
“Thank God,” I said.
“I think you mean, ‘Thank Grace.’”
“Uh, I wouldn’t push it if I were you,” I said. “You’re a big part of the reason all of this happened in the first place.”
Her tone shifted to apologetic again, but I told her to forget it.
“Thanks for checking it out,” I said. “You still haven’t told Mom and Dad, right?”
“No way.”
“Good.”
“So,” she said, changing the subject, “have you met anyone?”
I wanted to tell her about Max. I really did. I just wasn’t ready to divulge it to the world yet. And I didn’t want her to fret, like I knew she would. She had been just as skeptical of my new life in LA as my parents had been. While my parents were mostly disapproving, Grace was worried about me. All the more reason not to tell her just yet.
SIX
The rest of the week was uneventful. I was glad I didn’t have any more interviews with prospective clients. I could focus on my work, which mostly involved coordinating with our PR team to make sure our clients’ social media accounts were current. That also involved responding to fans. Before I got this job, I had no idea how much of the interaction between fans and stars was really between fans and PR folks.
When I got home Friday afternoon, there was nothing to do but wait. I had already packed and Max was sending a car for me. He was coming back from Vancouver—all the way to LA to pick me up, then we were off for New York City.
I sat on the couch, using my phone to browse Twitter, all the while thinking about how I had my first flight when I was twenty, and now I was about to take my second private plane ride in as many weekends. What a whirlwind this was turning out to be.
I got a text from Max: Car should be there any minute.
I wrote back: Great! Can’t wait to see you.
Max: I’ll tell the driver to step on it.
Me: Haha. Where are you now?
Max: About to land in Burbank. Are you hungry?
Me: For you.
Damn. I shouldn’t have sent that. Ah, what the hell—it wasn’t like I was playing hard to get anymore.
Max: You’re a bad girl. I like it.
Me: I’m not hungry.
Max: Too late. I already ordered your food. See you in a bit.
A few minutes later I was in the backseat of a black Rolls Royce. The driver was an older gentleman named Samuel. He asked me if I’d like a drink on the way. I declined and he closed the door, then whisked us off toward the Burbank airport.
“Excuse me,” I said.
“Yes ma’am?”
“Is this…are you…do you work for Max?”
“No, Ms. Rowland. Not directly. I work for myself, actually. Mr. Dalton is one of my clients.”
“Oh, okay.”
“Sorry to disappoint, ma’am.”
I looked at the review mirror and saw him looking back at me. “I’m not disappointed. Sorry if I sounded that way.”
“It’s quite all right, Ms. Rowland.”
“Call me Olivia.”
He nodded his head. “I’d rather not, if you don’t mind. I like my business to be of the highest class, so while you’re free to call me Samuel, or whatever you’d like, I’d prefer to call you Ms. Rowland or ma’am, if you don’t mind.”
“What’s your last name?”
“Garvey.”
“Okay, Mr. Garvey, you may call me Ms. Rowland.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“You’re welcome, sir.”
He didn’t laugh out loud, but in the mirror I could see the corners of his eyes scrunch up, so I had at least brought a smile to his face.
By the time we got to the airport it was dusk. A beautiful sunset was at the end of the runway. Max’s private plane sat on the tarmac, the door open and the steps down. When Mr. Garvey turned toward the plane, I saw Max standing at the foot of the stairs.
He wore a tight white t-shirt, jeans, and black hiking boots. So simple, yet so fucking hot.
Max came around and opened my door, taking my hand. When I stood next to him, he put his arms around me and gave me the kind of kiss you get when someone hasn’t seen you in a long time.
“Wow,” I said, when he freed my mouth from his. “You were only gone for a few days.”
“I missed you. Come on.”
He led me to the plane, up the stairs, and when we boarded I saw that he had several take-out containers from a Chinese place on the table. I really meant what I said earlier—that I wasn’t hungry—but all of the sudden I was famished. It smelled so good.
As the plane took off, Max and I looked out the window. I decided that the best way to watch the sunset over the Pacific horizon was from an ascending plane.
“Let’s eat,” he said.
We ate and talked about New York City. Max knew I had never been there, so he told me all the things he planned to show me over the weekend.
“We barely have two days, though,” I said.
“We’ll make it count.”
The flight would take a little over five hours so after we ate, we settled in together on what turned out to be an extremely comfortable love-seat. With my head on his chest, I fell asleep, and when I woke up I saw that three hours had passed. Max was asleep, and I tried not to wake him as I got up to use the restroom.
When I came out, he was awake.
“I thought you changed your mind about the trip and jumped out,” he joked, rubbing his eyes and stretching.
“Well, I couldn’t find the parachutes so I went into the bathroom and tried to flush myself down the toilet.”
He looked at me straight-faced, then broke out in a hearty laugh.
I sat down close to him, put my head on his shoulder, and my hand on his thigh. I looked down and saw that his jeans were bulging. He had woken up hard.
I moved my hand closer to it and let my fingers graze along the edge of his erection.
Max raised his hand to my chin, turned my face toward his, and kissed me. When his tongue slipped into my mouth, I moved my hand again, this time putting the palm of my hand over the length of the bulge.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” he said.
“I bet you are. What would you do with this if I wasn’t?” I pressed on his cock.
“Same thing I always do when I’m horny and lonely.”
“You? Lonely? Doubtful.”
He tilted his head. “You make me sound like I’m easy.”
I laughed. “No, just not lonely.”
He kissed me again.
I felt a strange and unfamiliar rush of boldness and asked, “So how often do you…”
I wasn’t making eye contact with him. I was looking at my hand lightly rubbing up and down the length of his erection straining against his jeans.
“Masturbate?” he said, finishing my question for me.
“Sorry. I shouldn’t—”
“It’s okay. I’ll tell you anything you want to know. The answer is: not very often, at least now that I’m spending time with someone I can’t get enough of.”
“So…” I didn’t finish the sentence.
“Yes?”
“Nothing.”
Max put his finger under my chin again, turned my face toward his, and said, “You were going to say something or ask something, but you’re censoring yourself. You don’t have to be shy with me, you know that.”
I looked into his eyes. He was so serious, so open to me, almost begging me to finish what I was saying.
“I…I don’t know,” I said. “I just wondered…I mean, is it good when you do it yourself?”
I felt kind of stupid after I said it. It made me sound so naïve, so inexperienced, so unworldly or something.
“It can be,” he said. “It’s not as much fun when you’re alone.”
“Well, it’s not like you do that when you’re with someone.” I laughed at the idea.
Max didn’t.
I continued, “Right? I mean, what’s the point?”
As he looked at me a little smirk grew out of the corner of his mouth. “You should get rid of your boundaries.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Your sexual boundaries.”
My mouth fell open. “Uh, excuse me, but I think you should know by now that I don’t have any boundaries.”
“None?”
I thought about it for a moment. “Well, almost.”
He laughed. “See? Boundaries. You have them. That’s a shame. You’re missing out.”
Without speaking, he straightened up in his seat, stood and took my hand. We went to the other side of the plane where two rows of seats faced each other. He stopped at one of the seats. I looked at him. He motioned toward it, still not speaking, but clearly urging me to sit down. I sat.
Max took a step back and lowered into the seat directly across from me. His face was a blank stare—no smiling, no grinning, nothing. But, as with other times when he was turned on, his eyes seemed to have endless depth as he stared back at me.
He leaned back in the seat and lifted his white t-shirt from the hem, showing off his flat, taut stomach. Then, with just the one hand, he started to unbuckle his belt.
I took a deep breath after realizing I’d been holding the air in my lungs.
Max got his belt unfastened, unbuttoned his jeans, and opened the front of his pants. He slipped his fingers under the waistband of his boxers and in one fluid motion, he pushed the front down. His cock sprang free—as hard as I had ever seen it—and his balls appeared full, heavy, loaded for action.
Was I dreaming? I had to make sure I wasn’t. The thought of seeing him masturbate for me was making my mouth dry with nervous anticipation while I felt a tingle between my thighs.
Max’s hands were on the arms of the seat. His erection stood straight up.
My gaze drifted from his cock to his eyes.
“Hands free?” I joked.
For the first time in several minutes, Max smiled. He didn’t say anything, though. He just kept looking at me as my eyes fell once again to take in the view of his magnificent maleness.
When he put his hand on his erection, he used a light touch, stroking it up and down using just his fingertips.
It dawned on me for the first time in my life that since I had never seen a man masturbate, perhaps I didn’t fully know what they really liked and wanted. Not that it had ever stopped me from getting results in the past….
Max’s hand dipped down and he cupped his balls, rolling them in his hand. I watched with fascination as I realized he wasn’t as gentle as I was with them.
He then sat forward a little and took off his shirt, revealing what I had seen several times but still made my eyes glaze over, but not enough to miss out.
Max kicked off his shoes and socks, then wriggled out of his jeans and boxers. And there before me was the most gorgeous view I’d ever had—a naked Max. Now he was the one making himself vulnerable to me.
“What are you thinking?” he asked.
I was at a loss for words for a moment, and he let me gather my thoughts. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”
“Watching a man jerk off?” His right hand grasped his cock and he slowly stroked near the head.
“Never.”
“Do you want to?”
Inside my head, I screamed:
Hell yes!
But luckily my filter was in perfect working condition and I gave him the more subdued: “I’d love to.”
Max wasn’t at all shy about his body. And why should he be? He was in shape, had a nice tan that wasn’t overdone as so many are in southern California, and he was well-groomed. Short, neat hair around his cock, not a wild and unruly bush. I knew that from our previous encounters but this was a purely visual experience so it made more of an impact.
I watched the muscles in his arm flex as he stroked up and down. I watched how he tightened his grip near the base, then relaxed it a little as his hand reached the head. There, he made a motion like the was twisting off a bottle-cap.
A droplet formed at the tip of his cock. Max used his thumb to spread it around the head, and more down his shaft. Instant lube.
I wanted to jump him right then and there, but this was something new that he wanted, obviously, so I stayed in my seat. I was starting to squirm a little, though, as I got worked up myself from what I was watching.
Max started stroking himself with two hands, one above the other, still doing that little twist move near the top. I loved it when his hands went down his shaft and the head of his cock poked out from his fist at the top.
“You should join me, Olivia.”
In a heartbeat,
I thought. I started to move out of my seat but he stopped me.
“No,” he said, “let me watch you. We’ll watch each other.”
Holy shit.
I had never masturbated in front of anyone before. I suddenly felt self-conscious, thinking that instead of being hot to watch, I’d probably look stupid.
“Take off your shirt,” Max said, and that commanding sultry tone of his was all the encouragement I needed.
I unbuttoned my shirt and for the first time since this started, I thought of the pilot. What if he came back here? He hadn’t left the cockpit on our flight to Napa, but this was a long flight. If he had to use the restroom, well, surely there wasn’t one up there. He’d have to come back here.
“Don’t worry,” Max said, once again practically reading my mind.
I didn’t take my shirt off, but I did slip my bra off underneath it, much to Max’s amusement. Then I finished unbuttoning my shirt.
“Beautiful.”
I loved when Max said things like that to me. I pushed my shirt open wider, exposing my breasts to him. I looked down and saw that my nipples were already tightened into hard peaks.
“Touch them,” he said.
I cupped them as I watched him stroking himself with a perfect rhythm. I played with my nipples, pinching them, tugging on them, teasing them….
Just as Max was teasing me with that big, beautiful cock. I wanted to drop to my knees and take him into my mouth. Please him. Drive him wild. But he was clearly getting off on this exhibition of mutual masturbation.
“Get naked for me, Olivia.”
My heart went to my throat. This was exhilaration beyond anything I could have imagined.
“I need to see your perfect legs. Your perfect pussy. Show me.”
I showed him, quickly getting out of my pants and settling back into the seat.
“Put your legs up on the armrests,” Max said.
He was now stroking it with just one hand, gripping the head firmly, then sliding down his length, all the way to the base. When his hand reached that point, Max extended his fingers and caressed his balls.