Page 59 of Fly Boy
“At first, it was a way to stay close to her, y’know? The little piece I still had of her each time I took to the ice. And then, as I got older, it became an escape.” She lets out a deep breath and tugs her hand free. I’m close to apologizing to her again, feeling like this topic wasn’t a great idea, when she lowers herself down, laying her head on my chest. My body tenses; the foreign feeling of a woman snuggling into me is different, unfamiliar, new. An unexpected comfort given by the simplest of things. Pippa’s delicate frame fits against mine like it is meant to be there.
“Before Nancy, my dad was married another three times,” she continues. “Each new wife after my mom progressively got worse. Wife number two was exceptionally bad, considering she was only twenty. Literally seven years older than me. I think she might have been his mid-life crisis wife. But regardless of age, they didn’t care about me—not that I wanted them to—I was Charles's inconvenient daughter, a roadblock to all his money. So with each new marriage, I spent more time at the rink.”
My hand threads into her hair, running the soft strands through my fingers before they flutter down, tickling my side before I start again.
“And then, when I was fifteen, my dad married Nancy. She was amazing. She was the woman he should have married right after Mom.”
“Did they know each other long before they got hitched?”
Tilting her head up, her eyes sparkle as she nods. “You’re not going to believe me, but before he had his own plane, they met while flying business class to Chicago. She was the CFO of a massive real estate company and had to go back and forth a lot and Dad’s…well, Dad. I think after a couple of weeks of taking the same flights, they noticedeach other and got to talking.”
I bark a laugh, and Pippa smiles, the sight almost as beautiful as the girl lying in my arms.
“Anyway, Nancy’s really into ice hockey, not that you’d know it from talking to her, and when she found out about my skating, she took a massive interest in it. Got me better coaches…researched training camps…anything she could to help me witha talent gifted from my mom.” She air quotes. “So every time I get onto that ice, I do it for my mom, Nancy…” she pauses, her fingers drawing circles just above my hip. “And for me.”
“I love that she’s so supportive of your dream.”
“She really is.” Pippa snuggles in closer. “Both are, actually. Dad would come to every competition if it were up to him. But I have so many, I’ll only let him come to the big ones.” She travels her hand up my stomach, her fingers coming teasingly close to my nipples, making my skin break out in goosebumps. “What about your parents? Are they proud their baby boy is a hotshot pilot?”
I chuckle, the sound not exactly joyful but not quite hollow either. “My dad and Sadie have all my flight stuff in their house—my diploma, a picture of me in my first uniform. They’re a bit disappointed I never worked for a commercial airline, though.”
“How come?” she asks, looking thoughtful.
I shrug. “I’d be able never fly them because I fly private.”
“I have a great idea,” Pippa gasps. Sitting up and throwing her leg over mine, her bare pussy rubs against my cock, her nipples pebbling from the cool AC. “We should get them on my father’s plane… You could take them to Lake Placid or something, go for breakfast while I skate, and then fly us all home again.” She beams, bouncing on the spot. “Oh my god, I’m a genius. Where do they live?”
“Greenwich,” I say through gritted teeth. She claps her hands, wriggling her hips, and my hands land on them, keeping her stillas my dick rapidly thickens. “Can you not do that when talking about flying my family?”
Pippa bites her bottom lip, dragging her teeth slowly across it until it rolls out from their grasp. She pivots her pelvis suggestively, and the feeling of her wetness rubbing against me finishes the job. I’m hard as stone, ready to take her again.
She doesn’t let me voice the idea, though, as I watch her glide down my body, taking the sheet with her as she maps my tattoos with her tongue, the pink tip tracing the lines down my chest, over my stomach, the grooves of my muscles. She doesn’t stop her hands from joining in, caressing and trailing down my legs, eyes swimming over my ink hungrily, each sweep like a caress making my cock twitch against my stomach. Arousal and want drip from her gaze as she glances up at me, her fingers coiling around my ankles to move my legs apart.
“Is there a reason why everywhere but your ass and cock don’t have tattoos?” she questions, dropping to place a kiss on the inside of my thigh.
“My hands, feet, and neck don’t have any either.”
Unimpressed, she lifts her head to look at me. “No shit, but isn’t that because there hurts the most?”
I smirk. “Do I look like I’m afraid of a little pain?”
She rolls her eyes, and my skin ignites as she lowers her head, her breath ghosting over my balls as she kisses up to one side of my hip bone. Her hair falls from her shoulder, tickling over my sensitive flesh, my hips bucking upward, chasing the sensation.
“My dick’s too pretty to have tattoos,” I groan when I feel her tits graze over the head of my cock as she nips my skin. Whether it’s on purpose or not, I don’t care. I now want to slide between them, nice and slick from her pretty mouth, and fuck them until I paint her chest with my cum. I moan at the image and lace my fingers into her hair, wanting to guide her to swallow me whole. “Pippa, you’re killing me.”
She huffs a laugh, the warm expel of air like torture. “Patience,Captain.” She giggles as I growl. “Let me explore your pretty cock. I told you I’ve never seen one that’s pierced…” Her tongue flicks out and licks my crown. My hand balls into a fist, tugging her hair as she looks up at me, a devilish smile on her lips. “…before.”
“You little cock tease,” I mutter when she does it again, paying particular attention to my piercing and that sensitive underside of the head that feels unbelievable when she circles it again. “Fuuuck, your mouth is…” I grunt when she takes the silver ball at the tip and tugs it with her teeth. “Swallow me,” I command, my voice hoarse. “Take me to the back of your throat. Feel how good it will be when you’re choking around it.”
She fists the base of my cock, pursing her lips as she raises her head to look at me. “Good for who? You or me?”
Her wet heat envelops me as I grit out, “Both.”
I can’t control my hips as they piston upward, pleasure coursing through my body as she hollows out her cheeks. I’m thirty-five thousand feet high, free-falling through a cloudless sky as she sucks me as far as she can, her free hand clutching my thigh while the one still around my cock pumps in time with her head.
Her ass sticks up in the air, her spine straight as she works me over. She looks fucking breathtaking like this, worshiping me with her sassy mouth.
She chokes like I knew she would, her gag reflex triggered.
