Fool Me Twice by Lizzie Morton

 

 

Twenty

 

Becket

 

Britney’s mouth drops open as she looks out of the tinted window of the limo, and her eyes settle on the private jet, waiting to take us to New York.

“What’s that for?” she asks, frowning.

“I’m not doing a standard flight,” I answer, “not after last time.”

She looks confused. “Last time? As in the first time we met …”

“Yep.”

“You haven’t been on a flight since? How? What about all the away games you have?”

“Forward planning and one of those large objects that move on wheels.”

She looks at me like she’s having some kind of epiphany. “Wow. The Great Michael Becket has an Achilles Heel after all.”

“More than one,” I mutter under my breath. I’ve added a certain blonde to my list.

She turns her attention back to the plane and says, “It’s huge. Like a flying house.”

“Courtesy of the NFL,” I shrug.

The novelty of these things wore off a long time ago. Nothing matters apart from the game, the feeling of the ball in your hands, the euphoria of crossing the line and hearing the stadium erupt around you. Everything else is just stuff. Things that aren’t needed, replaceable.

“This is great, but you know you’re not God, right? You can’t control the weather.”

My pulse elevates. I’m freaking out inside, but I plaster on a smile. Stop being a pussy, it’s a plane. People fly all over the world in them each day and what we witnessed was a rare occurrence. I hate how weak my voice sounds, when I say, “At least if we’re going to die, it will be in luxury.” There’s no point in putting off the inevitable. I nod in the direction of the plane. “After you, my lady.” My eyes settle on her perfectly shaped ass as she steps outside of the vehicle and I struggle to fight back a groan.

Bending over, she looks back into the limo, her white-blonde hair falling over her shoulders. “Are you just going to sit there all day? Come on.”

I shuffle out, awkwardly with my leg and we make our way onto the plane together.

Britney’s mouth drops open again when we step inside. “Seriously? This is unreal!”

“It’s impressive isn’t it?” I reply.

My eyes follow hers. The spotlights reflect off the perfectly polished, rich, wooden tables, a stark contrast to the white leather of the wrap around coach, filled with perfectly plumped up cushions. There’s even a goddamn chessboard. Britney’s right, it’s not a plane, it’s a flying house. It’s too pristine for my liking and couldn’t be further from where I started out, but her mood and seeing the way her eyes light up as she looks around, drinking everything in, is infectious.

“Would you like the tour?” I ask.

“You’ve got to be kidding? It’s so big it needs a tour!” she squeals, which tips me over the edge.

I throw my head back laughing. “Come on.”

She doesn’t respond, just stands, looking around hopelessly.

Grabbing her hand, I pull her behind me. “We haven’t got long until take off, so I’ll just show you the bar.”

“It has its own bar?” She scoffs.

“No. I just thought I’d say it for the hell of it.” Looking back over my shoulder, I find her scowling at me. When I wink, she shakes her head, trying to fight a smile.

We walk through a door at the back of the main seating area and step into a smaller room. The blinds are down and the black glossy bar, gleams under the dim lighting. Walking over to it, I pull out a bottle of Scotch.

“For old times’ sake?” I ask, waving it in the air playfully.

Britney’s expression darkens. “No thank you.”

“Am I missing something?”

“I don’t like it.” She sniffs, looking away.

“You did when we first met. If I remember rightly, you were knocking back shots for fun.”

“I had to. You know that night was an act … right?” She looks down to her feet and mumbles, “Well, some things were an act.”

Placing the bottle down on the bar, I walk over to her and grasp her chin, lifting it gently so she’s looking straight at me and can’t hide.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“The smell … it reminds me of him. It was always on his breath.”

I grit my teeth. It’s a trigger. I see it in her eyes, read it all over her body. They say it takes one to know one. Right now, truer words have never been spoken. Loosening my grip on her chin, I skim my fingertips along her jaw and watch as her whole body begins to relax. I place a quick kiss on her lips, before walking back to the bar where I unscrew the lid off the bottle of Scotch and pour it down the sink. When the bottle is empty, I pop the lids off two bottles and say to a bemused-looking Britney, “Beer?” She doesn’t answer, so I walk back over carrying the beers in one hand and grab hers with my other. “We better get to our seats.”

“Are you allowed to just take them like that?” She glances over her shoulder as if she expects the flight attendants to jump out and tell us off.

“This is my world, Brit. Anything goes. Come on, before we actually get in trouble.”

We head back to the seating area and once we’re settled, I grab my beer and down it in one.

“Is everything ok?” Britney asks, concerned.

“I’m nervous,” I admit.

“Don’t be,” her voice is soothing as she tries to calm me down. She draws the complete opposite reaction from me, when she begins rubbing my thigh. Each time her hand moves upwards it gets closer to my dick, which is very much aware of what she’s doing.

“Brit.” My warning doesn’t stop her.

She keeps moving her hand higher until the Captain walks in to introduce himself, and she snaps her hand away like she’s been caught stealing from the cookie jar.

I don’t listen to anything, completely oblivious to the flight attendants talking us through the emergency procedures as the plane slowly sways along the runway, ready to take off. All I can concentrate on is the spicy perfume that reaches my nose each time Britney moves. The same one she wore the first time we met.

Distractions aren’t enough though. When the plane runs over a slight bump, my back goes ramrod straight and I choke on my own breath as my eyes dart around, looking for an escape. “I can’t do this.”

Britney grabs my hand and squeezes it. With her help, I focus on keeping my breathing steady as the plane takes off.

“Would you like anything, sir?” asks one of the flight attendants when we’re moving smoothly through the air.

My eyes trail to Britney staring dreamily out of the window. “If you could leave us alone for the rest of the flight that would be great.”

Eyes caked with black mascara blink back at me. “For the whole flight?”

I nod and lower my voice, so there’s no room for discussion, “The whole flight.”

“Was that really necessary?” asks Britney, watching the flight attendants both leave the main seating area.

“Yes, it was.”

She huffs and picks up her beer, then swipes away a drip on the rim with her tongue.

My dick twitches in my pants. “Stop it.”

“What?” she asks, fluttering her eyelashes.

“I know what you’re doing. Stop it.”

“Or what?”

“Be careful, Brit, you’re poking the bear with a stick.”

“I don’t have the stick, you do.”

“You just referred to my dick as a stick?” I growl, then move my lips close to her ear and whisper, “If you’d like to join the Mile High Club, please, carry on.”

She undoes her seatbelt, straddles my lap, and not so innocently says, “Yes, please.”

I’m struggling to keep up. She’s acting as crazy as the first time we met. This time, I love it even more. “Fuck it,” I grumble, lifting her away.

Once standing, I pull her behind me, into the bar, and walk to the back of the small room where there are two closed doors.

“Where are we going?” she asks, trying to slow me down.

Ignoring her, I carry on walking. I open the door to the small bedroom. Her throat bobs when her eyes find the bed. She steps inside without missing a beat. The door clicks shut. I move towards her, grasping the hem of my shirt and pulling it over my head as I do. I hear her breath hitch over the hum of the engine. Her eyes move hungrily over each part of my body. When I finally close the gap between us, I place a finger on her bottom lip. I push down gently. She follows my lead, taking it in her mouth and sucks. She sweeps her tongue over it like she did the rim of the bottle. Like she did with my dick this morning. I can see how turned on she is through the thin material of her top. A groan rumbles through my chest.

She’s still new to this and I don’t want to push her too far too quick, so I ask, “Can I?”

She nods and I pull the top over her head. She gives me the invitation I need when she unclasps her bra and lets it drop to the floor, then does the same with her denim pants.

“Fuck,” I rasp out.

When she sits down on the bed, I step forwards but move my injured leg into an awkward angle. Pain shoots through it and I grimace. Excellent timing.

“What’s wrong?” asks Britney, panicked.

“Nothing,” I grunt, trying to sound better than I feel. Nothing’s interrupting this for me, not even my leg. “You might have to take the lead ...”

“Wha—”

She doesn’t have a chance to finish her question because I tug her into my arms and flip us on the bed so she’s straddling me as I lay on my back. Eagerly I grab the grey, lace thong she’s wearing and try to tug it down. It rips, coming away in my hands. Crap.

“What the hell?!” she exclaims. “What am I going to put back on?”

“That’s what’s on your mind right now?” I smirk.

“No bu—” I thrust my hips up and she stops, letting out a moan.

I’m about to tell her to take off my pants when, reading my mind, she expertly whips my pants and boxers off at the same time. I stare at her open-mouthed when she lowers herself down onto my dick and I feel exactly how wet she is for me.

“What do you think porn is for?” she giggles, replying to the question I never actually asked.

My hate of flying disappears. My fear of the past is being replaced with new memories, watching as Britney rides me straight to her orgasm, thirty-five thousand feet in the sky.