Just This Once by Evelyn Jeannie Hall

Eight

As the private plane Benji chartered flew over the clouds, Lacey sat next to her youngest sibling lost in her thoughts. Zane had folded his long frame into one of the lounging seats at the back which put him out of her line of sight, and she felt glad. It made not catching a glimpse of him—even by accident—that much simpler. Elizabeth flopped open the neck of her flouncy blouse, showing Lacey something she hadn’t noticed before.

“Whoa, when did you decide becoming a lobster would be a good idea?”

“I didn’t,” Elizabeth half growled at her. “I fell asleep in one of those comfy lounge chairs out on the resort deck.”

“How long were you out there?” Lacey asked, knowing it wouldn’t have had to be more than a few minutes to roast her alive. The pale skin of redheads was notorious for its inability to tan. No one in their family had ever had a measurable amount of melanin at their disposal, so sunscreens and big hats had to be part of their worlds anytime they went out in the sun for any length of time.

“An hour.”

“Ouch, sweetie.” The more Elizabeth displayed of her crispy shoulders—and the blisters visible along the tops—the more Lacey winced. At least her head had been under an umbrella. “I’m fairly certain we have some aloe vera at home. And if we don’t, I’ll go get some.”

“Thanks, Lacey. I’ve already taken some aspirin, but it doesn’t seem to be helping much. Think I’ll go splash some cold water on it.”

Elizabeth unsnapped her seat belt to go to the rear of the plane to the lavatory. Her gait hitched as she went, most likely due to her clothing scraping against her tender skin. Poor thing.

Lacey’s cell vibrated in her hand, and she flipped it over to look at the screen.

Zane: Your sister okay? All her features are scrunched into one of the most pinched grimaces I’ve ever seen.

Lacey: Sunburn. It’s an occupational hazard of being a ginger.

Zane: You and Kat don’t seem any worse for wear.

Lacey: Katrina spent most of her daylight hours inside with her hubster. And I was careful to be on the beach for only limited engagements unless the sun was already going down.

Zane: The sun hadn’t been the only thing going down as I recall.

She scrutinized her phone for a moment, staring at the blatant innuendo. Did he seriously want to risk texting about such a smutty topic with Benji so close by? Granted, neither she or Zane were sitting right next to Katrina’s hubby—in fact, as she hazarded a glance over the back of her seat, Mr. and Ms. Farrell-Torres appeared to be slumbering after what had likely been an ardent few nights together—but still.

Lacey: Someone’s being naughty.

Zane: You have no concept of how naughty I can be.

Lacey: You mean our previous interactions haven’t been naughty in your book?

Zane: Naw, those were just warmups.

Holy fuck. If he considered those sexcapades mere warmups, how much farther was he willing to go? Unless this was all smack talk. Which it had to be. Right?

Lacey: You do good work, as well you know. No need for the buildup.

Zane: Merely good?

Lacey: Fine, you were phenomenal. Superb. Guinness World Record material. You’ve wrecked me for all other men. Happy?

Zane: That’s better. Also, baby, that’s not buildup, that’s a promise.

She drew her lips to one side.

Lacey: What’s a promise?

Zane: That I can make you come without tonguing you or going inside you. Hell, I’ll make you come with nothing but a feather if that’s what you want.

She trembled at the thought, the space between her legs going instantly hot. She didn’t know why the man had opted to introduce a round of foreplay they couldn’t follow through on, but his suggestions did it for her, that was for damn sure. She scooted around in her seat, hoping to get comfortable again, but squirming didn’t help. Zane had given her an itch she couldn’t conveniently scratch, the jackass.

Not that she couldn’t volley the ball right back into his court.

Lacey: How about a lap dance for your troubles?

Zane: Is this your way of telling me you’ve been employed as a stripper in the past? Don’t worry, I won’t judge.

Didn’t he wish. She’d held many odd jobs in her youth, but never something that would make her mama cry. She had taken pole dancing classes, which was pretty close to stripping when it came down to it.

Lacey: A girl doesn’t have to be a professional to know how to walk the walk. Let’s just say you wearing loose pants would be a smart plan.

Zane: How about no pants?

Lacey: Even better, though teasing can be… intoxicating.

She fanned herself with a hand, feeling overheated. God, what was she doing to herself?

“Whew,” Elizabeth gusted out as she sat cautiously beside her. Lacey jammed her phone onto her thigh facedown, hoping her sister hadn’t caught sight of anything too X-rated. “That cold water felt good, but only as long as I splashed it around. I was only going to sit out there for a second to enjoy the breeze, and this happened. As many burns as we’ve all had, you’d think I would’ve learned my lesson a long time ago.” Her sister sounded wretched.

“Why don’t you see if you can take a nap? Get your mind off it?” Lacey waved at the flight attendant. “Miss? Do you have any pillows? My sister needs something as soft as possible.”

The cute girl with spiky blonde hair disappeared into the back and reappeared with not the child-sized pillow Lacey had been expecting, but a full sized one like she had on her bed at home. Elizabeth looked ecstatic.

“It’s even cool to the touch. Thank you.”

“Would you like some ice water?” the attendant asked. For looking like a twelve-year-old, the woman had great customer service skills.

“Only if I can pour it all over myself,” Elizabeth told her, and Lacey knew she wasn’t kidding. “Think I’ll pass on that for now. Thank you, though.”

After fidgeting like a fish out of water for several minutes, her youngest sister eventually did doze off. A few beats later, Lacey’s phone buzzed again. She peeked at the screen, then nearly dropped the stupid thing. Zane had sent her yet another text, but this one came accompanied by a picture.

Zane: You see what you do to me.

Beneath this almost benign sentence was a selfie he’d taken. Somehow, he’d managed to angle it just right to capture a specific section of his crotch, the massively bulging outline of his erection visibly poking against the denim of his jeans. In the next instant, she’d gone to her settings and changed the privacy on her account so it would only show texts and pictures if she unlocked her phone. She didn’t want anyone to see her sexting of all things.

Lacey: You’re incorrigible.

Zane: It’s your fault. Imagining that lap dance did me in.

Zane: Why don’t you send me one back?

Lacey: One what?

Zane: Don’t be like that. You know what I want.

She did know what he wanted. She just didn’t know if she should give it to him as she sat inches away from her sister. Surreptitiously, she leaned forward to steal a peek at Elizabeth’s face. She seemed out for the count. A brief look behind Lacey demonstrated that everyone else either had their eyes closed or weren’t paying any attention to her. Everyone except for Zane, of course. He leered at her with expression that shouted, “Come on! What ya got?”

She could show him exactly what she had. Not that he hadn’t already seen it. Moving fast, she pulled her dress away from her body, peeled her bra cup down, and snuck her phone into place a few inches away. It took about six tries, but finally, she caught a photograph of her breast, puckered nipple and all. All their dirty texts had those peaks beading like round pink pebbles. Of course, taking the shot was one thing, sending it was quite another. But Lacey loved a bit of thrill-seeking, and she wasn’t about to back down from this impromptu one-up contest they had going.

Lacey: I call you on your dick pic and raise you one of these.

Then, she sent the boob pic.

His message arrived seconds later.

Zane: Fuck me!

Lacey: Wish I could.

Zane: I’m sorely tempted—and I mean sorely—to tell you to get your fine ass back in that lavatory so I can meet you there.

She grinned from ear to ear. Torturing her new friend with benefits was a hoot, even if her thighs had grown slippery with need as a result.

Lacey heard a slight rustling and noticed Zane rising from his seat near the back… with his shirt untucked so no one could tell the condition he was in. She almost giggled with the knowledge that she’d been the one responsible. It felt incredibly satisfying to know that she’d gotten his goat so thoroughly. He’d even had to go take care of himself in the bathroom, for God’s fucking sake. That was hilarious.

She’d pulled out a book full of lesson plans for English teachers utilizing school libraries when she received a text. Then, seconds later, she received another. When she glanced at her home screen, she saw they were both from Zane. Oh boy. What was that man up to? Shielding her screen just in case, she opened it and gasped.

Elizabeth stirred beside her, yet thankfully, didn’t come all the way awake. Thank God, because Lacey did not have any desire to explain what she’d received. And man, oh man, had he texted her an eyeful. Zane had sent her not only a pic of his fully exposed and hard as a rock penis, he’d also sent her a video clip of his hand stroking himself. Her core clenched involuntarily, and she rammed her eyes shut to block the images, but that only made things worse.

She hid the phone against her chest, afraid to look at it anymore. She’d had a guy send her a dick pic one other time, but that had been unsolicited because she’d refused to go out with him. As if a ringing endorsement of his own dipstick would make her change her mind. And spoiler alert: it hadn’t. This… This felt so different. Risqué and heady. But then, her cell went off again.

Lacey didn’t think sneaking even the most fleeting of glimpses would be intelligent at this point. She’d already been wet, and since she’d gone commando as she typically did, that wetness was seeping down the skin of her thighs. What if it pooled along the back of her dress? How the hell was she supposed to explain something like that?

The problem was Lacey had been curious by nature all her life. That’s why she’d traveled so extensively in her youth, to discover what the world had to offer. So her cellphone became like crack to an addict jonesing for a hit. She didn’t want to see whatever might be on her phone. She needed to see it. It felt like a requirement.

Lacey twisted in her seat so that her spine came up against the window. No one could catch sight of anything now. With both hands wrapped around the edges of her screen, she peered at Zane’s message.

And…

Holy fuck of the fuck.

It was another video, and this time, he finished. And by finished, she meant he’d finished right in front of her eyes. This struck her as hands down the most tantalizing thing she’d ever seen, and she couldn’t not stare at the moving images. Not only had she ridden that particularly impressive dick, but watching him touch himself until white ribbons of come erupted from the tip… It was like porn for women. No, porn just for her. She’d never seen something that explosively carnal in all her life.

Literally explosive.

She hid her face behind her hand and had difficulty catching her breath. It felt like she’d been sprinting back and forth down the aisle of the jet for the past half hour. When she heard the lavatory door open and shut over the sound of the engine, she didn’t check it out. Couldn’t afford to. If she took one look at Zane Morrison right now, she felt absolutely certain she’d either experience her own orgasm or blush so red she’d match Elizabeth shade for shade.

When the unthinkable happened and she received yet another text from Zane, she contemplated simply throwing her cell out the emergency door. Since said door couldn’t currently be opened—there’d be the minor issue of her depressurizing the whole compartment if she did—she rationalized that this one couldn’t be more explicit than what he’d already sent. With that more tranquil thought at the back of her mind, she unlocked her phone one last time to see only two words.

Zane: I win.