Page 69 of Mile High With the Bikers
He laughs, but it’s a slightly strained laugh, like it might actually be an issue. “Tell your mother… hello.” Then he hangs up. That's about as familiar they get with each other. He doesn't even mention my three sexy bikers. I don't think it's so much that he disapproves as I think that for once, he really has no idea how to approach the situation.
He’s still recovering from being betrayed by Mason and captured by Haney. Physically he was bruised and exhausted, but mentally it really knocked him off his game for a while. But he's recovered and back to work finally, with his eyes on a new project. Hermes earned us a lot of international acclaim when we published our papers, but as per usual, his attention wandered as soon as it wasn’t new and shiny. He’s heading full speed into some kind of green energy generation, and I’m happy to sit this one out. He can have fun with his big shot physicists and chemical engineers.
I don't know exactly where my career is going next, but for the first time in my life I have the full freedom to figure it out, and I think I'm just going to enjoy that for a while.
“Rory? Where are you?” It's Shrapnel calling from the back of the plane. Long flight this time, going to visit Mom in Austria, and I figured I’d bring the boys to introduce them. I think it’ll appeal to her artsy lifestyle. But that means several hours to pass on the plane, and they won't all be sleeping.
“I'll be right there!”
Dad being Dad, the new plane is bigger and fancier than the old one. In addition to a meeting room up front to entertain clients, we have full bedrooms for long distance family travel now and a master bathroom with a big shower. The lounge in the back actually has a fake fireplace. I'm not using it though. I've had enough of fires on planes.
I quickly shut the bedroom door so I can get changed. I put on some black, sexy underwear that's more transparent than not, black stockings with garters, and then my flight attendant uniform over it all—gray and red skirt, blouse, blazer, and a pretty scarf around my neck that's yellow and red. I take a little spin in front of the full length mirror. Looking good.
Once I'm dressed, I get the trolley from the front, put four crystal tumblers of Dad's aged Macallan on it—since the Karuizawa still makes me think of Stewie and Mary—and wheel it back to the lounge where they're waiting for me.
“Finally. What did your dad want that took so—” Bull looks up from dealing cards on the table and his jaw drops.
To borrow Cherry's suggestion back when we met, I put my hands out, cock my hip and say, “Coffee? Tea? Me?” Then quickly, “And I also have whiskey.”
Diesel laughs. “Even though you got a new plane, I love that the service stayed the same. A plus plus, would fly again. And again. And again.”
“Did I do something stupid?” Suddenly I get a little embarrassed. “It's silly. I'll?—”
“Fuck that.” Shrapnel stands so he can get right up against me. As he loves to do, he captures my hair and forces it back. The feel of it sends all sorts of naughty neurons coursing through me. “The very first thing we noticed about you was how fucking good you looked in your uniform, and you still do. There's nothing I'd like more right now than to peel this thing off you, bit by bit, and fuck you until you beg me to stop.” He turns my head so I'm looking at Bull. “Look at what you're doing to him.”
Bull's rubbing his hand over the huge bulge in his jeans. I definitely have his attention, faster than I anticipated.
“Or him.” He makes me look at Diesel, who's actually unbuttoned and got his cock out already and is slowly stroking it, putting on one heck of a show. He smirks and leans back to make sure I have a good view. God, I don't think I'll ever get tired of how they drive me crazy. “Why don't you go show him what real in-flight service means, huh?” Shrapnel guides me over and puts me on my knees in front of him.
Shrapnel lets go of my hair, but from the sounds of it, it's mostly so he can get undressed too. I look up at Diesel and wet my lips. “Anything I can do for you, Sir? There are very few limits to howfar we'll stretch to make sure you have a good flight here in first class.”
He laughs, then gives his thick cock a wiggle with his hand. “This thing gets a little uncomfortable when I sit. Maybe you could help it relax a little.”
“Of course, sir.” Fighting a laugh, I envelop the tip with my mouth. His skin is smooth against my tongue. I wrap my fingers around the base and start sliding them up and down.
“Oh fuck, yeah. Just what I wanted.” He slides a little deeper in the chair and closes his eyes.
I play with the head, tracing its outline with my tongue and loving how he moans when I find his special spots, like along the ridge, or that point right underneath the tip. I might be providing the service, but right now I'm the one in control.
Shrapnel kneels behind me and kisses my neck. He slides his tongue behind my ear, then traces the lobe with a feather's touch. It's hot, and very distracting. “Let's get this off you,” he growls so close that I get goosebumps. I expect him to pull down my panties, or slide my blazer off, but the first thing he takes is my scarf, unknotting it gently and then covering my eyes with it. “Okay?”
I can't really speak with my mouth full, but I manage to nod. I've never played this kind of game before, but I'm eager to try.
He folds the scarf over a couple of times, then knots it at the back of my head. I can't see a thing, completely in their mercy. It's both exciting and a little disquieting, but I force myself to relax. I trust them.
A hand slides into my hair, guiding me back onto Diesel's cock. I think it's Diesel himself, but I don't know and not knowing adds a whole different dimension to this. Someone tugs my skirt up to my waist, followed by a deeply hissed, “Niiiice,” when Bull discovers my mostly transparent panties. Thick fingertips trace my lower lips through the thin material, the smooth fabric letting them glide easily. I moan, and then Diesel moans. God, this is hot.
A button pops on my blazer, and then the second one, before my arms are pulled backwards to slip it off. It disappears, followed by a soft flutter as it lands on one of the chairs.
I'm pretty sure it's Bull stroking my pussy the way he knows I like, and I'm almost positive it's Diesel who's got my hair. Bull makes me gasp with a clever touch, and Diesel's quick to pull me right back down, guiding my head into a steady rhythm. I try to maintain it even when he loosens his grip.
My blouse is next, button by button, until it falls open. Immediately, hands cup my breasts over my lacy bra. Just Shrapnel? Shrapnell and Bull? Maybe Diesel is leaning in and helping? I can't really tell. Just hands, teasing my nipples that are pushing out the fabric. All of the sensations are distinct, but they make one mysterious whole.
This time, when they pull my arms back to pull my blouse off, they stop at my wrists. There's a chuckle that's definitely Shrapnel when they use it to tie them together, locking my arms behind my back. It pushes my breasts forwards into their clever hands. Now I'm truly helpless, and I never expected that to be a sensation that would get my motor running, or rubbing my thighs together around Bull's fingers, but it does.
Without my hands to help, it’s harder to go down on Diesel, to capture all of him between my lips. Not that I'll ever be able to take the whole thing, but I do my best, and he groans when he butts up against the entrance to my throat and I have to pull away. “So fucking good,” he hisses as I slide back down on him.
My bra goes suddenly slack, giving the hands full access to my bare breasts. Sparks of pure pleasure surge from my hard nipples straight down to my core, as they're teased and pinched. I melt between my invisible lovers, as they do whatever they want to me. I never know what's next, as they keep me on edge as they touch my thighs, my sides, my throat, my ass, my calves, my everywhere.
