Several excuses were at the tip of my tongue, but they were just that, excuses. In retrospect agreeing to buy the house next door to my childhood home was a huge mistake. Mom in particular popped over whenever it suited her. There was no way I could have someone stay over without things getting awkward real fast.
I really needed to do something about the way I let my parents run so much of my life. I needed to learn how to stop being so conflict avoidant. Of course I wasn’t conflict avoidant with Grace, I realized. I needed to channel some of the backbone I exhibited with her into my relationship with my parents. And I needed to move away from them, or I’d never get out from under their watchful gaze.
“We’ll have to do it at your place.”
Grace shook her head. “I live in the same building as Ariel and Maeve, those nosy bitches always seem to know when something embarrassing is happening to me. They’ll come over at the worst possible time.”
I ignored the tiny stab of hurt at her referring to being with me as embarrassing. She hadn’t seemed embarrassed when she was pressing me against a wall and kissing me on the street where anyone could see us.
“What do you suggest we do then?” I asked. “Get a hotel?”
“I’ve got a better idea,” Grace said, something about the look on her face making me nervous.
Five days later Grace and I were on our way to the Chicago Executive Airport. Grace had chartered us a private jet to Malibu, where she had a friend with a beach house. It was probably overkill to fly across the country in order to have sex, but then again, I didn’t get out of Chicago very often, so I was completely on board with her plan.
Plus there was no way we’d run into anyone we know in California. Hopefully.
She’d picked me up in a limo, which I’d scoffed at until we ended up sitting in traffic for ninety minutes. Funny how traffic was way less annoying when you were stretched out on luxuriously comfortable seats sipping champagne.
Since Chicago Executive was a private airport, we had a quick check in process before boarding the plane. We were the only two people flying, which was the height of indulgence, even for someone like me who’d grown up wealthy. My family had money, and my net worth was well over a million dollars, but Grace was in another income bracket altogether.
As a millionaire, I could fly first class, live a more than comfortable life, and have almost anything I wanted. The billionaire across from me could buy her own plane – or her own private island if she wanted.
I had a feeling that Grace didn’t often do extravagant things though. I’d read that she and her best friends had signed a pledge with a bunch of other billionaires around the country to give away most of their wealth. I knew that didn’t stop them from living the good life, but it also meant they didn’t waste a lot of money. At least I assumed so.
Our plans were kind of loose. We’d agreed to stay overnight at Grace’s friend’s beach house in Malibu, but if things were going okay, we’d stay a second night and come back on Sunday.
I hoped that things went well. I’d been fantasizing about what would happen all damn week. I’d been a horny mess, daydreaming during meetings, and waking up in the middle of the night in the throes of various sex dreams.
I kept reminding myself that it was just sex. There was not going to be any emotion behind it. Yet us going out of town to get busy, so to speak, made it feel like much more. It was quite possibly the craziest thing I’d ever done.
“Stop thinking so hard,” Grace chided as the plane took off.
“I’m not,” I lied.
I slipped my hands under my legs to stop fidgeting. The truth was my brain was spinning fast worrying about what would happen this weekend.
“We both know what this is,” she said. “We’re going to blow off some steam in a place we can have some privacy, not eloping in Vegas. Chill out.”
I wasn’t sure how she could be so casual about this. She was the one who’d brought up the idea of us having feelings for each other. In the past, that is. Now she was acting like this was just a casual fuck. I needed to get these romantic fantasies out of my head. She couldn’t be clearer that this weekend was just about scratching in itch.
Other than our little interlude in my conference room and our discussion in the coffee shop, we hadn’t done more than exchange a couple of texts this week, all focused on the logistics of this little fuck fest we were embarking on.
Was I the only one obsessing all week about what would happen in Malibu?
The bell dinged overhead, and the pilot came on the intercom, announcing that we’d reached our cruising altitude and could move about the plane now. The second person on the plane – I wasn’t sure if he was a copilot, a navigator, a flight attendant, or all three – came back to serve us drinks, then told us to press the call button if we needed anything else.
As soon as he walked back into the cockpit Grace had her seatbelt off.
“Get up,” she said, grabbing my hand. “Come with me.”
“Where are we going?” I asked in confusion.
She impatiently made a ‘come on’ gesture. I unbuckled my seat belt and stood up, following her gaze to the back of the plane where two couches faced each other.
“I’m going to give you an orgasm to take the edge off so you chill the fuck out,” she said calmly, like she was telling me about the weather.
A rush of arousal flooded my core at her words.
