“I did.”
“Then do you really think I’d come out here like this with a loaded machine gun?”
“Assault rifle,” he corrected. “Just making sure,” he added.
He took a step toward me, his jade-green eyes blazing. He was prowling, that slow, sleek, predatory way he had, like a puma stalking through the grass. I held my ground, letting him come to me. His gaze raked over me, top to bottom, twice. And then fixed on my tits, visible in glimpses through the brass of the shells. Down to my core, also just barely but not quite covered by the bandoliers. And then to the M4 in my hands.
“That’s the one from the wall, right?” he stated more than asked.
I nodded. “Yep. Figured it only counted as fulfilling your fantasy if I was carrying your specialassault rifle.” I emphasized the correct term.
“My fantasy?”
“Yeah, don’t you remember? São Paulo? The car chase? You told me you had a fantasy involving me in nothing but a bandolier, with your M4.” I swept a hand at myself in a Vanna White style gesture. “Well, here it is, me, naked, in a bandolier of bullets, holding your own very special M4.”
Nick hands flexed, tightened, released. Now he was within arm’s reach, but he still hadn’t touched me. He was just staring at me, as if memorizing the sight of me like this. Cold as I was, I let him look. This was about fulfilling a fantasy, after all.
He must have noticed me shivering. “Cold?”
I shrugged. “A little. It is April, and I am outside naked.” I let my desire burn in my eyes. “Can you warm me up?”
“I might be able to.” He reached past me and pushed a button on the wall beside the open doorway, and a motor hummed quietly, sliding the twenty-foot tall doors closed. When the doors were shut, lights flickered on automatically, bright LEDs suspended from industrial hanging fixtures.
He moved back a step. “Go sit on the wing of the plane.”
I did as he asked, propping my ass against the cold metal of the lower wing, rearranging the bandoliers for optimal visual affect. Instead of coming closer, though, he stayed where he was, pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, and took several photos of me from various angles. Fine by me; I knew he was the only one who would ever see them, so let him have photographic evidence.
Besides, this was fun, drawing it out.
I removed a layer of bandoliers, and struck a different pose. Another layer, another pose. Yet another layer, and now there was only one bandolier, which I hung around my neck. It covered nothing, so I was completely bare for his perusal. And peruse he did, both with his eyes and his cell phone camera.
Finally, I knew he’d taken enough photographs because he tossed the phone into the open cockpit.
“What else did your fantasy involve, Nick?” I asked in my best sultry voice.
He took the gun from my hands—yes, I know it’s ariflerather than gun, but I’m a girl, and guns are guns—and set it aside, leaning it butt-down against the side of the airplane.
“Well, in the original fantasy, you kept all the bandoliers on and sucked me off wearing them. And then I returned the favor, and then we fucked. Although usually I didn’t get as far as us fucking before I blew my load.” He gestured at me. “But I think I like this version better.”
“I can put them back on,” I said, reaching for the pile on the floor at my feet.
He grabbed me by the wrist, stopping me. “No, like I said, I like this better. I can see more of you.”
I sank to my knees. “In that case, let’s make the rest of the fantasy a reality.”
Staring up at him, I unbuttoned the fly of his jeans. Unzipped him slowly. Tight black CK briefs, huge bulge behind the stretchy, slinky material. I tugged the elastic waistband down to bare his cock, which sprung free in front of my face. One hand went to that lovely organ of his, stroking slowly, gently, and the other untied his combat boots, sliding them off his feet one by one, leaving his socks on because sex in socks is funny. I mean, think about it: a dude, no matter how hot, is just inherently funnier if he’s wearing nothing but a pair of socks. Bonus-funny if they’re white, and knee high, like Nick’s were. He stepped out of his jeans, and then his underwear, and then thank god, Nick was naked for me.
“Tell me,” I said, teasing the tip of his cock with my lips, “how exactly did I suck your cock? Slowly? Quickly? Did I swallow? Or did I take it on my tits?”
“Fuck—” Nick swallowed hard, took a deep breath and sighed it out. “You’re killing me, Layla.”
I took him into my mouth, just a little bit. A short, light suckle, and then backed off. Kept my eyes on his. “Well? You’re gonna have to talk me through this, Nick-baby. Tell me what to do.”
He buried his fingers in my hair, pulled me toward his body. “Take it into your mouth. Take it deep and slow.”
I stroked the hard globe of his ass with my hands and plunged my mouth down on his erection. He groaned as I took him deep. Deeper. I opened my throat and took him all the way, until my nose nudged his belly. He was fucking enormous, both long and thick, so there was a lot of cock to swallow. My eyes watered, and by the time I backed away, I was breathing hard through my nose. But Nick? His chest was rising and falling hard, his fists bunched in my hair.
“Like that?” I asked.
