Unbroken Read online
Was I really going to do this? In the bathroom of an airliner? Oh, my lord, yes. I most assuredly was. I felt a wet heat spreading between my thighs, damp desire. I lifted the hem of my skirt up and pressed my finger to my clit, and a lightning bolt struck. I pictured Tre, naked and eyes blazing, defending me. My circling finger sped up, and I had to lean back against the wall for support, my knees buckling from pleasure.
I was near climax when I heard the door latch moving and dropped my skirt, in case it wasn't Tre. It was, and his eyes were dark with desire. He locked the door behind him, and I wasted no time getting his shorts down around his ankles and his already-hard cock in my fist.
I turned him to sit on the toilet, hiked my skirt around my hips and lowered myself onto him, facing away. He speared into me, and I had to bite my lip to keep from crying out as he slid deep inside me.
"God, you're so wet," he breathed in my ear.
I leaned back as far as I could, nipped his earlobe as he thrust into me, swiftly and silently. "I was touching myself, thinking of you," I said.
He grunted in reply, kissing my neck. His fingers slid up my belly, underneath my blouse and tugged the cup of my bra down, accessing my nipple. His other hand skimmed down and touched my clit. I turned my face into his, pressing my lips against his rough-stubbled cheek.
His thrusts were slow and powerful, and I could feel how close he was, already, thick and throbbing within me. His finger sliced in fiery circles around my aching clit, driving me to silent, searing orgasm. He gritted his teeth together so hard I could hear them creaking in his jaw; his fingers pincered around my nipple as he came, and I gasped out loud, and Tre's hand slid from my pussy to my mouth, silencing me as I whimpered. His seed flooded my walls and his fingers rolled my nipple, his hand across my mouth smelling of my musk, mingling with the dank scent of the airliner bathroom.
When he finally stopped his frantic plunging into me, I stood up. He reached for the toilet paper as I did, and he cleaned me with tenderness that took my breath away. As odd and unappealing as it seemed, there in the tiny, smelly bathroom of a passenger jet was when I realized the truth of my feelings for Tre. He cleaned me after our lovemaking, carefully and thoroughly, and something about that intimate action broke down the last of my resistance to him.
I gazed down at him, letting my emotion show through my eyes. He saw it, and opened his mouth to speak, but I silenced him with a kiss.
"Not now, Tre," I whispered. "Wait, and then come out."
I still had my panties stuffed in one fist. I handed them to Tre with a grin, and then adjusted my skirt, smoothed my ruffled hair, and left the bathroom. I found my seat and pretended to be absorbed in the celebrity gossip magazine I'd brought with me. A minute or two later, Tre resumed his seat by the aisle. I'm pretty sure we earned a few knowing smirks and snickers, but none of the flight attendants approached us.
When we were comfortable and it seemed no one was going to throw us out of the plane mid-flight, Tre turned to me and leveled a look that told me he wanted to talk.
"In the bathroom," he began, "you seemed--"
"Yes, things are changing, for me," I cut in. "When we first started out, I wasn't sure what it was between us. Honestly, at first, I just wanted you. You're so hot, so different from anything I've ever known. You're sweet and genuine and caring. You seem to like me for me, not just for sex."
"Of course I like you for more than sex," Tre said. "Is there any other way?"
I laughed, honestly amused at his naivete. "Tre, in a situation like ours--I mean aside from the whole car-stealing business and whatever--most guys would be just in it for the sex. As soon as that stopped being fun, or I stopped being interesting or taking care of them, they'd be gone."
Tre sat back, thinking. "Do you feel like you're taking care of me?"
That wasn't the question I'd expected. "I don't know. I mean, yeah, kind of. Financially, at least."
Tre made a face. "I don't like that. I want us to be...partners, or equals. You shouldn't be taking care of me. I know you've got money, but I can work. I can make money."
"I know. But that's not really important right now, is it?"
He shook his head. "No, guess you're right. We can figure that out once we sort out--"
"Everything else. Like, what are we? Where are we going? What's our long-term plan?"
"So we're ready for boxes, then?" Tre asked.
I bobbled my head side to side. "Boxes? I don't like boxes. But, I like being with you. I know that much. I really, really like having sex with you. I feel safe and comfortable with you. And, I promise, I do believe you're capable of providing. We may not need it, since I'm pretty set, but it's nice to have, you know?"
"Yeah. It's stolen, though, and I'll be honest, a part of me is uncomfortable with that. I haven't had much choice since leaving Yazoo, obviously, but if we go somewhere, I'll find a job. I can do anything." He twisted in his seat to face me. "So, are we together, then?"
I laughed. "Yes, we are. I mean, assuming you want to be?"
"Of course I do," Tre said. "I can't picture anyone else."
"Well, you haven't been with anyone else, have you?"
"No, and I don't want to be with anyone else." Tre shrugged, dismissing the idea.
Silence for a while, then I asked, "So, then, where are we going from Nassau?"
Tre laughed. "Well hell, I don't know. I've never left Mississippi." He stared out the window, then turned back to me. "I guess we could just take it one day at a time. See where we end up, where we like to be, and stay there."
It was a simplistic way of putting it, I thought. But then, why couldn't it be simple? Just find somewhere we like to be, and stay there?
It suddenly sounded like a wonderful idea.
We hired a private flight from Nassau to St. John's. We'd moved my account, taken some cash, and left Nassau within twenty-four hours. It was too local, too familiar, too easy to find. I wanted to be somewhere obscure.
We sat in the back of the twin-engine float plane, hand in hand, watching the ocean ripple beneath us. The pilot was a taciturn, bearded, older man who'd taken our cash and lifted off without a word, no names asked, no flight plan logged. We'd paid extra for that service.
He set down off shore, props still spinning. Tre offloaded our luggage into the waiting outboard motor skiff, and the plane was gone within seconds. The boat pilot nodded and smiled, but didn't speak.
A few minutes of bouncing on the pale blue waves and we were bumping against a dock, surrounded by a forest of bobbing masts. Once again Tre threw our luggage--two suitcases and two carry-on backpacks--to the dock and we left the boat, which backed out and puttered away.
St. John's. Tre and I glanced at each other, at the lush, tropical vegetation and dots of houses peeking from between the trees, and then back at each other. A taxi skidded to a stop next to us and a young man with curly black hair jumped out, grabbed our suitcases and threw them into the open trunk.
"Come, come. Hotel, this way," the young man said, waving to us.
Tre shrugged and climbed into the taxi, pulling me after him. The taxi ride was frightening. I'd been on rollercoasters less hair-raising. The driver dodged between trucks full of produce, other taxis, private vehicles, mopeds, and pedestrians, all at a breakneck pace, honking. I clutched Tre's hand and laughed, a little hysterical.
The taxi came to a screeching stop at a Sheraton. The driver jumped out, carried our luggage into the lobby without consulting us.
"Come, come. Best hotel. Luxury hotel. Stay. Enjoy Love City," he said, a bright smile showing rows of white, even teeth against his dark skin.
We paid him and went in, deciding to go with the flow.
"You know he probably gets a kickback from taking us here," I told Tre.
He shrugged. "I'm sure. But does it matter? Now we don't have to look for somewhere to stay right off the bat. We'll figure something out long term later. For now, let's just chill."
"Chill?" I grin