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Mason had my heart for the past nine years. For nine years, I buried my feelings for him because I didn't want to lose what we had. On some level, I knew he cared deeply for me, and that was enough. Today, while I stared out over the ocean for hours and reflected on my own heart, I realized why it's not Mason. While I may have loved Mason first, it couldn't have been the right kind of love because I would have never fallen for August if it was.
So now, as I take the hand of the most beautiful man I've ever laid eyes on, I can't help but smile in the knowledge that he is mine. He came here for me. While brief, and heavily shrouded with drama, the stolen moments that we shared meant something to him. I was important to him. It's easy to tell someone what they want to hear, but showing them can be so much harder.
Mason was always my hero, saving me from broken promises, pain, and sorrow, ensuring my world was intact. Then August showed up and rocked it. He was willing to play the role of the villain and burn everything I ever built down if it meant I was his in the end. So, when a man enters your life threatening to tear it all down, you let him and don't look back. After all, were the walls really protecting your heart if you built them because you were already broken?
We finally reach his car, but before he opens my door, he pulls me into him, stealing my breath away with his thirsty gaze. My god, this man unravels me. He places his right hand on the curve of my neck before sliding it up to the back of my head, where he wraps his fingers around my hair and pulls my head back before slowly bringing his lips down to mine. I can't help the moan that escapes me the second his lips graze mine, and he smiles against them before teasing me with the slowest open-mouthed, intense kiss I've ever had. I feel like my legs will give out at any second, but then he pulls back. My eyes snap open, and he's smiling at me.
"I have to get you into this car and get us back to the airport. If I stand here kissing you a minute longer, that won't happen." He kisses my forehead and opens my door before jogging around to his side. As he gets in the car, I can't help but notice the massive bulge in his pants, and I smile. I like knowing I affect him as much as he does me. Looking over to grab my hand, he notices where my eyes have zeroed in. Biting his lip to stifle his smile, he says, "See something you like, baby?"
I want him so bad it physically hurts, and then I get an idea. Moments ago, he said I could touch him anytime I wanted, and that's just what I'm going to do. In order for my plan to work, I decide to wait until he pulls out onto the highway, it's getting late, and there aren't many cars on the road. Unfastening my seatbelt, I release his hand and smile inwardly at the frown that momentarily takes over his face from the fact that I released his hand, until that same hand reaches down and grips his thigh. Glancing over at me, he raises an eyebrow in question. That's when I get on my knees in my seat and lean over the center console to place a kiss on his neck before seductively saying, "You said I could touch it whenever I wanted. Can I use my mouth?"
He lets out a slow "fuuuck…" as he pushes his head back against the seat. Before he can object, I slowly slide my hand up his thigh until I reach his crotch, where I trace my finger over the outline of his erection. Leisurely I move my hand up to his waistband seeking entrance, but before I can free him, he covers my hand with his own, halting me. "Baby." His breathy plea sounds more like a request for mercy than an argument to stop. When I look up, I can tell his breaths have quickened. He wants this, but there's trepidation, he wants to make sure I know what I'm getting myself into.
I give him a coy smile, then bend down to where he's laid his hand over mine and kiss the back of it before slowly peeling it off. With his hand no longer stopping me, I pull his sweatpants down, freeing his cock. My god, it’s huge. Why don't I remember it being so big? Then I remember I've never really had the chance to explore him intimately. While he's been inside me, and sure I've seen it penetrating me, as it sits before me standing at attention, I'm fucking awestruck. There is no way I can possibly take all of him. However, I'm not backing down. I want him to know how much I want him, so I place a kiss on the tip before running my tongue along the vein that runs to the base. His thighs tighten, and I can tell he likes my mouth on him. As I trace my tongue back up his length, when I reach the top, I take him into my mouth as far as I can go.
"Fuck baby, your mouth feels so good." His praise makes me clench. I'm so turned on. I suck him harder, take him deeper, but he's still not all the way in. Moving my hand to the base of his cock to make up for what I can't fit, he says, "No, baby, you wanted it, so you're going to take all of it."
Why do I want to please him so much? The next thing I know, he has moved his hand to the back of my head, where he slowly starts to add pressure, pushing me down a little more with each bob of my head.
"Relax that pretty throat for me." I do as he says, and the next thing I know, his cock is all the way in, hitting the back of my throat. "Fuck baby, you're such a good girl. I love knowing you missed my cock as much as it missed you."
My swimsuit bottoms are now thoroughly soaked, and I want nothing more than to reach between my legs and find my own release. However, hearing his words of praise and his dark moans of pure ecstasy are addictive. I want this to be about him because he’s right I fucking missed him. I need to show him how much in ways words can’t express. For now, fucking seems to be the way we convey how much we crave the other person. It’s when I feel the most connected to him. When we are intimate, there is no question I’m his. I see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice every time we are together. He thrusts into my mouth two more times, and my eyes start to water before he says, "Baby, I'm going to come in your mouth, and you're going to take every drop." I nod greedily as best I can from this position. I want to taste him. I want the taste of him in my mouth until I can have him inside of me.
The next thing I know, I feel hot ropes of cum hitting the back of my throat, and he's grunting. Swallowing as best as I can, I don't release him until I feel his cock stop jerking. Then, pulling off, I lick my lips and pull his pants back over his crotch. When I meet his gaze, it's ablaze with passion and fury. He grabs me by the back of my neck and quickly pulls my mouth to his, swiping his tongue through my lips before releasing me to put his eyes back on the road. Now I'm the one who's breathing heavily as I sit back in my seat and start to refasten my seat belt. I can see him stealing glances at me out of my peripheral as I settle back into my seat.
"Tasting myself on your lips is the hottest fucking thing I've ever done." I shift in my seat, trying to alleviate the ache that has built up in my core. If he says one more sexy line to me, I swear I'll come on the spot.
Picking up my hand, he interlaces our fingers and kisses the back of mine. "The minute we get on that plane, you're in trouble." I don't respond. I just look out the window. I don't want him to know how excited I am about boarding the plane, but I can't help but feel like a desperate hoe. First, I grabbed him on the beach, and now I gave him a blowjob while he was driving. I'm not a dirty slut but fuck me if he doesn't make me want to be one. I need to try and reign in my carnal desires for this man and maintain some level of self-respect.
August must take my silence for something it's not.
"Baby, talk to me. You have no idea how good that was for me if that's what you're worried about." He squeezes my hand to pull my eyes to his before returning his attention back to the road. I can see the honest concern on his face, so I give him a half-smile.
"I'm glad you liked it because I've never done that before."
That must make him happy because he flashes me a huge smile right before squeezing my hand, which consequently only makes me self-conscious. It almost feels condescending, like a pat on the back. I know he is more experienced than me, and I'm not his first blowjob, but I want it to be special, as lame as that sounds. For a moment, I thought it was. Releasing his hand, I turn my focus out the window before saying, "What's that smile for? Are you saying you could tell it was my first time? You just said it was good."
He's quiet for a beat too long, so I risk stealing a glance. His face is serious, and he reaches back across the seat to take my hand back. "What? Baby no, I smiled because I can't help how happy it makes me knowing that I'm the only one who has had you in the most intimate of ways." Then, still not satisfied that his words hit home as intended, he adds, "You might be surprised, but I can count on one hand the number of times that I've received a blowjob, and yours was by far the best. Not even in the same league as the others."
There is no point in trying to mask the smile that takes over my face. I pleased my man, and he's happy. He's right, though. I am surprised he hasn't had more blowjobs. I know he's had a girlfriend since high school. Isn't oral something all couples do when they're intimate? How could she not want to please him in that way?
I'm about to start asking him about his past, finding out all there is to know about this man I'm obsessed with, but he's parking the car before I get a chance, and we're not at an airport.
"I thought you said we had to catch a plane back home tonight?"
My comment must have caught him off guard because he gives me a perplexed expression.
"We are at the airport." He looks forward at the building in front of us, and my confusion must dawn on him.
"This is a private airport. I have my own plane."
My eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and before I know it, he's exiting the car and coming around to my side. Opening the door, he holds out his hand for me to take. As I look down, I realize he's still barefoot, which makes me smile. The man was in such a rush to get to me he didn't bother to waste time getting shoes. This man is everything. With his hand in mine, we walk straight through the small building and out onto the airstrip. Pilots are stationed outside the plane, waiting at the steps to greet us.
"Good evening Mr. Branson. The plane has refueled, and food has been delivered per your request. Are we still flying straight through to St. Louis?"
"Yes, Jasper, straight through. Thank you for accommodating me with such short notice.
The pilot tips his hat and says, "No problem, sir. Enjoy your flight."
