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Oh god!
Tremors shook my frame, my cunt pumping furiously.
But that was enough.
The image of the men alone had made me into a horny whore, touching myself while thinking of them.
Limbs still twitching, I felt like I had been pounded by a hurricane.
Taken by Alpha Prime.
Owned by them.
Oh no, I thought to myself. This obsession is going to be a problem.
CHAPTER THREE
Trent
“There's nothing like having your own ride in the skies,” I said, dropping into one of the many plush leathers seat on the charter plane. It was one of several private planes from our private fleet.
In high school, we were the scrawny weird kids that liked the type of heavy metal music that everyone hated. After years of being teased and turned down for dates, things had really turned around for the better. We owned an airline.
Life really works out sometimes.
Considering how much money we had in the bank, buying the airline seemed like the right thing to do. At least that’s how Helena, our manager, put it to us. Constant travel was part of the gig, and to tour properly, we had to bring all of our equipment. Booking flights was a hassle, and then everything still seemed to go wrong. They always lost something. Mason had to buy new drumsticks the last three times we traveled on a public flight.
It was tiresome, especially since the group flew first class to avoid such inconveniences. There was no amount of booze and warm nuts to make me okay with them losing my shit—and Mason got even angrier than I did.
After a lot of discussion with Helena, Alpha Prime bought Elite Air. It was one of those airlines that has always been used by rich guys who wanted to throw around their money. Years ago, the three of us would have scoffed at owning a plane, let alone several.
But now, it’s a necessary. Lost luggage is a pain when there are shows to be played. Groupies that ask us for signatures get tiresome. So yeah, we took the ultimate plunge, and now we have our own plane. This is rock star level shit.
There’s nothing wrong with throwing around a little cash if you’ve got it.
Sometimes, it was easy to forget that we had so much money because it’s incredibly far from our humble beginnings. Once upon a time, Mason, Nick, and I were just three punk kids with nothing but dreams and barely a hundred dollars between us.
I chuckled to myself, but the guys read my mind like they always did.
“Yeah, crazy isn't it?” Mason said with a low laugh. “We don’t fly first. We fly private.”
“Plus, it’s not just this baby,” Nick said wryly. “We own six of these toys.”
“Touché,” Mason grunted. He was spread out on what amounted to a damn sofa on the plane, dressed in a white T-shirt and shredded jeans. “What’s next? The world? How do we buy that?”
Nick gave his usual subdued smile. “I don't want to own anything except life, dude.”
Because Nick can be a stick in the mud sometimes, a responsible adult who puts a damper on things. And frankly, we need that sometimes. Me and Mason are still kids, goofing off and having fun. Nick’s the one who actually moves us forwards.
So yeah, my man wasn’t happy with the purchase at first, but it was starting to grow on him. Maybe he wouldn’t admit it, but he loved flying in style just like the rest of us.
In fact, it was fucking amazing, thinking back to all the jocks that shoved us around back in high school. Those were the tumultuous years. The “cool kids” tortured the three of us just because they could.
Now, while they coached peewee football in northern Maine, we were traveling the world. Girls screamed our names while tiny boys screamed theirs.
I could just imagine, “Coach Curt! Coach Curt! I peed my pants!”
It felt good to know that hard work had finally paid off. Hundreds of guitar and singing lessons, the money we invested in Mason’s drum-kit—there was a rhyme and reason to all this.
