Hung (16 page)

1
1 months later
.

I'd never been the kind of girl who
needed
a man to make her deliriously happy, and I still wasn’t. I'd just… fallen into a man who made me feel that way. I was one of the lucky ones. Sure, Clay and I didn't have what I might class as a
conventional
relationship, but it worked for us. And sure, it got tiring from time to time to see our lives played out in the media, but that's what I got for wanting to be a superstar, I guess.

The compact plane’s powerful engines began to spool up, and I looked over at Clay with a smile. He was wearing glasses – which I found all kinds of sexy, but which had taken me months to convince him to wear. "That eyestrain's feeling better, huh?" I teased.

He fixed me with an unimpressed look, the kind of look that indicated he knew I was right but didn't want to admit it. "I really can't tell," he lied, "but if you think so, honey."

It was my turn to look at him disbelievingly. "You can't
really
be arguing with me about this, can you?"

He harrumphed. "Liss, how am I supposed to be an international superstar when you make me wear these stupid things? I'm supposed to be a damn sex icon, not a librarian!"

"But your eyes feel better, don't they?" I said tenaciously. It wasn't in my nature to back down from an argument – especially not one where I was clearly right."

"They wouldn't feel bad at all if you and Mike would stop teaming up on me and making me read all this crap," he grumbled, indicating the sheaves of paper covering the table between us.

"You said you wanted to be more involved!"

"Hmmm," he replied.

I bit down on a smile. The truth was, I was impressed at how hard-working and dedicated Clay had become over the past few months. He was a completely different man from the one I'd met – but only the bad aspects had changed. His work ethic, previously tenuous at best, was now unrivaled – and not just on the things he liked doing, either. I didn't need to get into this argument because he was already winning it through his actions.

I leaned back in my comfortable leather chair and cast my mind back over the past eleven months, thinking about everything that had changed my life – and there were a lot. In fact, if I'd stepped into a time machine a couple of years before to see my future, I wouldn't have believed my eyes. Not only had I had a kid – two kids, for that matter – but I was an international superstar whose debut album had gone platinum.

The other thing I definitely wouldn't have believed was that giving birth to twins wasn't the hardest bit at all. No, the hardest bit was trying to organize a national tour when you had to be home by bedtime to tuck them in…

I had everything I had ever dreamed of, and more. Clay was a whole hell of a lot more than just
more
. He was the sexy, ripped, caring icing on the top of the tastiest cake I'd ever tried. And he was all mine.

Just thinking about him got me hot under the collar, and I started ticking the months off in my head. Sarah and Mike Junior had been born just under twelve weeks ago. It had been a whirlwind three-month period, because as soon as the kids were born, the new label started talking about a tour to capitalize on the success of our debut album.

I couldn't exactly say no because this was all I'd ever wanted, but it had taken quite a few conversations with the old white men in the boardroom before they completely understood the toll that childbirth took on a woman's body. Especially when you had to pop two of them out!

Luckily for me, Mike Junior's namesake was one hell of a negotiator, and we ended up getting everything we asked for – including the Gulfstream private plane we were sitting on. I felt a lot, lot less guilty about taking time away from the kids once Mike explained to me we could be on our own plane within half an hour of the concert, and home from anywhere in the country within two hours, three at the outside.

Still, even being away from the twins for a couple of hours this soon after I'd given birth to them was… a challenge. Especially as Clay and I hadn't exactly been able to be intimate for the past two or three months. Until, I decided, now.

I kicked off my heels and breathed a sigh of relief as my feet began to unclench. I'd never been much of a heels girl before, but when you had the world's best shoe companies clamoring to you to wear their products, it was hard to resist. I still wasn't completely accustomed to it, though.

I stretched out my leg under the table, searching for one of Clay's muscular legs. He'd been getting snappy over the past couple of weeks, no matter how often I'd unzipped his jeans and pleasured him with my mouth, and I knew he was reaching his limit. He'd had to see me prancing around on stage and dancing with girls dressed in not much more than lingerie for the past two weeks, and he was about ready to blow. A guy like Clay wasn't built for celibacy.

I wouldn’t have minded his mild irritation if it weren't for the fact that Clay was better with his tongue than any man I'd ever shared my bed with. And, truth be told, I wasn't handling this post-childbirth period of forced celibacy much better than he was… Clay had awakened me sexually, turned me into a dirty, filthy girl, and then knocked me up before I got a proper chance to explore myself!

We'd slept with each other until almost the end of the pregnancy, maybe more than at the start, because Clay couldn't keep his hands off me once he saw my belly starting to swell. But, to my frustration, it was gentle, caring sex – he didn't feel like he could let loose, and to be fair, I couldn't blame him.

Clay had wrapped me up in cotton wool like a good girl, but I needed to break free. I needed him to break me.

"It's time…" I said in a sultry tone of voice, my outstretched toes finding his thick calf.

"Time for what, Liss?" he said absentmindedly, taking off his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose in a tired gesture. Then, I presume, he felt my foot journeying up his leg. He sat up quickly. "Oh, time?" I saw a flash of excitement across his face, only to be replaced by a look of hungry desire. "You're not playing with me, are you?"

"I wouldn't dare," I said teasingly. It was true, though, even if the only reason I wouldn't dare was because Clay had too much of a hold on me – I knew that the moment I started teasing him, I'd give in to my own selfish desire to straddle him.

He tossed off his glasses, and I had to admit – sexy as I found him while wearing them, his naked, unadorned face was sexier still. He had a little stubble left on his cheeks and I fantasized about dragging my lips down it, rubbing my hands against it, and the feeling of it gently grazing the sensitive, soft skin on the inside of my thighs. He picked up the phone to the cabin, and as I realized what he was about to do, I decided to play a game.

He punched two buttons and put the handset to his ear. "Jim?" he said, speaking directly to the pilot. As he did so, I dragged my toes teasingly up the inside of his thigh and planted the ball of my right foot directly on his crotch. Clay sucked a mouthful of air in between pursed lips, staring directly at my eyes reproachfully.

I shot him a dirty, unapologetic look and decided to continue doing exactly what I wanted. His eyes might scream no, but his stiffening cock, and the sudden shock of his hand gripping my bare foot and shoving it harder onto his package said exactly the opposite. Clay wanted this, and he wanted it bad.

"Can you—" Clay paused, holding his breath as I stroked my foot down his cock, my other leg stroking the inside of his thigh. His eyes briefly rolled into the back of his head, but I saw him bite his lip to bring himself back to reality, and with a masterful effort he started speaking again. "—give us some privacy for a little while?"

He paused, listening to the pilot's response. "Thanks, Jim. Oh, and Jim," he said, as if trying to catch the man before he hung up the phone, "yeah – if you could circle a bit before you land this thing, that would be great."

I grinned at him sexually. That was exactly the kind of thing I wanted to hear.

"Good thinking," I whispered.

"How long?" He repeated Jim's question. "Until you run out of fuel," he finished, hanging up the phone.

"You cheeky little minx," he said, grabbing my foot harder and thrusting his raging stiff cock into its soft base. It felt filthy, and carnal, and I loved it. "You enjoyed every minute of that, didn't you?"

"Didn't you?" I winked, turning his question back on himself.

Clay didn't reply, not with his words, anyway, just stood up and walked over to me. As he closed a short distance, I couldn't help but stare at the thick, bulging cock practically hanging out of his jeans. "Looks like someone wants to say hello," I said.

Clay just growled. He was done with talking, always was when he got in this mood. And because we'd been conscientiously following the doctor's orders not to have sex the three months following childbirth, I wasn't just excited about what he was about to do to me – I was a little bit scared.

Blowjobs were one thing, but a man like Clay couldn't be sated with oral sex alone – and right now, he was practically humming with delayed sexual tension. He stood above me, and I looked up at him with fuck-me eyes. "What are you going to do to me?" I asked, desperate for him to vocalize it.

He did no such thing, just grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me up, his huge strength making light work of it. His mouth met mine, and he kissed me hungrily. I rubbed my hand on his cock and felt him shiver with the pleasure that coursed through his body in response.

"You like that?" I asked rhetorically, unbuttoning his belt and unzipping his jeans. It was usually something I struggled with, but I was so horny it felt like I was playing a game on easy mode, like my brain and body had both snapped into gear with one sole desire – to feel Clay's enormous cock stretching me from the inside. He grunted and threw me down onto one of the soft leather chairs that didn't have a table in front of it to get in the way. It was more of a comfortable armchair than a plane seat, and there was more than enough room for me to stretch out.

I was still wearing my hyper-sexualized stage outfit because I wanted to hurry home as soon as possible, figuring I could change on the plane, and the dark grey plaid skirt was far, far shorter than I'd ever have worn in real life. Luckily for Clay, that just meant easy access.

"Take me, Clay," I ordered huskily. As usual, he didn't listen to me in the slightest. He loved it when he had me begging for his cock, and he liked to be in charge. Luckily for me, I liked him being in control.

He ripped off my panties in one motion, leaving them torn in pieces on the floor. I was as wet as I'd been since before I gave birth, and there was absolutely no need for extra lubrication. He inserted one long, fat finger and I jerked with pleasure, widening my legs almost automatically to give him more access. "Yes…" I breathed.

"They know exactly what we're doing in here," Clay muttered, his voice deep and husky with desire. "In fact, they've probably got cameras. Jim's probably watching this as we speak…"

A year ago, the thought would have shocked me. But I was a different girl than I'd been before I met Clay.

"Then we better give him a show." I smirked.

Clay studied my face carefully, looking for any hint that I wasn't entirely serious about what I just said. I had no idea if he was joking or not about the cameras, but I realized that I didn't care. All I wanted was a long overdue orgasm, no matter who saw it.

Clay stroked my bare calf, pushing his hand up my perfectly shaved legs, then forced his way under my body, searching for the zip that held my short, tight skirt together. He found it immediately, and the muffled sound of the zipper unfastening followed shortly behind. The skirt joined my panties on the floor.

"You shaved," he said approvingly. "You knew this was going to happen, didn't you?"

"I thought about it." I smiled. I done more than just think about it. Every second of alone time I'd had, had seen me rubbing myself furiously imagining this very moment.

Clay leaned over and bent his head between my legs. That was the last conscious thought I had for almost an hour.

He licked me from the bottom to the top of my soaking wet pussy, and I thrust my hips up into his face. I was desperate for this, desperate for him, but I knew he'd take his time, and I was determined to enjoy it.

"Oh, Clay…" I groaned as his hands gripped my hips, and he used them as a support to devour my slit ever harder. He was everywhere – licking, sucking, kissing and nibbling every exposed millimeter of the sensitive pink flesh between my legs. He had the middle finger of his right hand buried deep within me and stroking me in a come hither motion that was hitting my g-spot precisely.

My hips bucked; they were out of control, like a bronco at a fairground. I could barely believe that Clay managed to keep his magic finger working away as though my uncontrollable spasms of pleasure were nothing but a distraction. Then again, he was incredibly strong – to him I must have weighed less than a feather. His left hand was busy, too, his palm pressed down on my mound in precisely the right place for his middle finger to compress the sensitive flesh inside me against it, doubling the pleasure. His thumb stroked my clit, making slow circular motions that built upon each other.

And that was all before he really put his mouth to work on the dripping wet slit between my legs. When he did, I felt like fireworks were going off between my hips and shooting directly to my nipples. My whole body was a battleground of pleasure, and he was the general.

"Clay, I need you," I begged, but to no avail. He moved his left hand, and I moaned as my clit begged for the return of the slow, gentle pressure of his thumb, but no more than half a second passed before he replaced his thumb with his tongue and repeated exactly the same motion. I was in heaven, so close to cumming that my hands were ground into the soft leather of the chair so hard I was in danger of leaving fingernail marks, so close to cumming that I was gripping Clay's gorgeous head between my thighs, and so close that I was yelping with pleasure.