I’ll have to thank Coop and Colt, again, for the VIP access.
Thomas pulls the door open, allowing me to ease from Emma and step outside before I turn around to help her climb out, using the opportunity to hold her around her waist and pull her flush against me. My hands linger on the exposed flesh of her stomach as I enjoy watching color bloom up her neck- my touch having the desired effect.
A cough slows my movements. “They have the private cabana ready. For security purposes, you should take the blindfold off here,” Thomas suggests.
I nod in agreement, and he turns out to look at the crowd, giving us another moment of privacy.
My hands travel up her abdomen, teasing at the exposed skin until I reach the earplugs. Gently, I remove one and softly speak into her ear, “Here’s to a night of just being young and carefree.”
Leaning forward, I kiss her neck, removing the other plug and mask from her eyes.
“Oh. My. Fucking. God!” The squeal she expels almost has me covering my ears. But she turns, thrusting her arms around me.
“Is this real? Are we really here?” she asks in between peppering me with her lips.
I could stay like this forever.
“Yes,” I state, feeling nothing more needs to be said.
She grabs my hand and makes a mad dash toward the stage.
“Slow down, Love. We’re over here.”
I tug her in the direction of our seats, still watching the sway of her hips.
She’s so damn intoxicating.
Not just the sensuality of her movements but her excitement- utterly enthralling. I’m fucking rock hard, my dick pressing uncomfortably against the zipper of my jeans at her giddiness.
Once we reach the cabana, she lets go of my hand and spins to take in the stage, ignoring all the lavish amenities, choosing instead to take in the first act.
“That’s fucking Good Charlotte,” she screams over the music pumping through the crowd.
“I know.”
I’m so verbose tonight.
Her neck cranes, not wanting to miss a thing, but I can tell she has something to say. The words look like they want to burst from her lips, so I step into her back.
“I’ve always wanted to come here. Dad and I would go to concerts every time he came home,” her voice cracks. “We were supposed to come here the summer he went missing.”
I wrap my arms around her, bringing her into me. I don’t want to lie to her and act surprised because I know. So I stay quiet. Again, enjoying being able to just be- no Selection process, no annoying Sam or fucked up secret society bullshit.
We just are.
“Thank you,” she whispers. A lone tear leaks from her glossy eyes, and I reach my thumb up and wipe it away.
That’s how we stay, listening to band after band- Evanescence, Nine Inch Nails, Lauryn Hill, Tribe Called Quest, and Pierce the Veil, to name a few. Eventually, we make our way backstage, and she nearly faints countless times with each musician she meets. She has more signed band tees than I can count. I made sure to buy her two of each so she could wear the ones not signed.
“I can’t believe I just saw Lizzo perform live and met her in fucking person. I can’t wait to get home and tell Dad,” she exclaims, popping another blackberry in her delectable mouth.
My eyes zero in on the way her pink tongue sweeps over her plush lips, wiping away the wine-colored juices.
Thank fuck we’re back on the jet. I spent the majority of the day hard.
“I’m happy you had a great day,” I smile.
Her gray eyes light up, “Great is not the adjective to describe the day I had. Phenomenal, extraordinary, prodigious. Those words begin to express the type of day I had with you.”
My chest tightens at her confession. Not just the concert but her time with me.
Extending my hand across the table, I help her stand. I want us to have more privacy, so I make my way to the bedroom at the plane’s rear.
Shutting the door with my foot, I hold Emma’s hand until I sit on the bed, and she straddles my lap. Her skirt rides up, exposing the lace of her black panties.
I groan at the sight, “Are you wet for me, Love?”
Her answering whimper invites my fingers to explore.
“Yes,” her emphatic response encourages me to lift her skirt over her hips.
Sliding her damp panties to the side, my nostrils flare at the smell of her arousal as I insert two fingers into her waiting pussy.
“Mmhmm. Fuck, Wy,” she moans at the stretch of her walls around my thick middle and ring fingers, as she bites her lip, turning them blush red.
My hand pumps in, slow and deep, twisting as they pull out before slamming back in. My pace is steady until I hear the hitch of her breath on my face. Increasing the tempo, I make shallow strokes. My dick gets harder with each convulsion around my digits- her walls spasming.
“Please, Wy. I need more of you,” she cries out.
“You want me to slam my cock in this pretty pussy, Love?”
She groans, nodding her plea.
“Use your words. I want to hear you beg for me to stretch you open and have your virgin pussy weeping over my fat cock,” I grunt.
I don’t know how much more of this I can take before I bust in my jeans. It will all be worth it, though.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.