by Virna DePaul
When the flight attendant comes back around, I reach out to hand my still-full glass to her, but in the process, I bump my hand on the armrest. This sends the glass tumbling from my fingers straight into Caleb’s lap.
“Oh my God!” I say just as Caleb curses at the ice bath his crotch has just gotten. “I’m so sorry!” I try to dab at the stain with some napkins, but it’s no use.
He finally pushes my hands away and starts collecting the ice that hasn’t melted, handing the cubes to the un-amused flight attendant. I just dab and dab.
“Heather,” he growls, then grabs my hand. His voice is smoky and seductive as he says, “You’re just making me harder, sweetheart, with your hand rubbing my cock like that.”
I gasp, and he holds onto me tighter.
“If you really want to make it up to me,” he says in a that same hushed voice, “how about you let me put this hard-on to good use after we land?”
I stare at him. My body is on fire, and I’m about to scream YES and throw myself onto his lap.
Instead, I just gape and let out an “Uhhhhhh…” sound at his question.
He chuckles. “You tell me your answer again when we land, okay, sweetheart?”
Underneath my hand, I feel his hard cock through his pants, and Jesus Christ, he can’t be that big—can he? When I look up into his face, he just raises an eyebrow. I snatch my hand back like it’s been branded.
Caleb lets out a sigh. “You know, I should make you pay me for these pants. They were my only nice pair I brought with me, as I’m not planning on staying in LA for more than a couple of days.”
I grab my purse to dig around for some cash to give him. I own a shop but specialize in women’s clothing. Not that I would take him to my store anyway. The guy’s a stranger, after all. A sexy-as-hell, charming stranger who I wish I had the courage to mile-high with…
He laughs when he sees what I’m doing. “I was just kidding, Heather. But do you have some time after we land to go shopping with me? You can help me pick out a pair of pants.”
My brows furrow. “Do you really need help with that?”
“No.”
“Then…?”
He shrugs. “Maybe you’ll want to spend even more time with me. Show me those claws again?”
“You’re disgusting,” I say, mostly because I feel like I should say it, not because I really think he’s disgusting. He’s the opposite of disgusting: delicious, desirable.
Dangerous.
“If you say so, sweetheart. So is that a ‘no’ to going shopping with me?”
I bite my lip, knowing I should answer in the affirmative. But I don’t want to. I want to spend more time with Caleb. I want to know if more time with him will quash these feelings of desire he’s inspired or just fan the flames hotter.
“It’s a ‘let’s see how the rest of the flight goes,” I say.
“Good enough for me.”
4
Caleb
I didn’t lie when I said I didn’t have another pair of pants to change into. I wasn’t going to be in LA for more than a few days, just long enough to do a photo shoot for Bella magazine, and I didn’t see the need to pack more than one pair of dress pants for no reason. When I’m doing a shoot, I wear what I’m most comfortable in—jeans.
But let’s be real, this isn’t about pants: this is about getting into Heather’s pants.
Because I’ve decided that I’m going to seduce her. She’s a worthy conquest—beautiful, fiery, smart—and I know she wants me. She can’t stop looking at me as we land, and when she loses sight of me outside in the terminal when I’m grabbing our taxi, I can tell she’s worried. Her face practically lights up when I wave at her and she catches my gaze.
So, yeah, seduction. Definitely. Just the thought of those long, pale legs wrapped around my waist as I fuck her? God, I’m hard as iron. Who cares about the Coke staining my pants? If anyone looks at my crotch, they’ll get an eyeful of something else.
We make our way out of LAX, each of us hampered only by small carry-on bags, and direct the taxi to a local big-box retail store. Heather seems like she isn’t sure if she wants to sit in my lap or get as far away from me as humanly possible while we’re in the car. More than likely, she’s having doubts and freaking out. She seems like the type.
If there’s anything I’m good at, it’s coaxing a beautiful woman to let down her guard, but Heather seems like she’d be suspicious of flattery.
I decide to try a different tactic.
“I have to ask,” I say quietly, although I don’t really care if the driver hears us, “if you poured that Coke on me on purpose. Did you?”
She glares at me. “Why would I do that?”
“It’s obvious: so you could spend more time with me.”
She splutters, and I laugh. She’s such an easy target. I really should leave her be, but I can’t help it.
“Did I already tell you that you are arrogant?” she says in a haughty voice. “Well, you are. An arrogant, egotistical, jerkface—”
“Did you just call me a jerkface?”
“Yes, and you can add asshole, son of a bitch, and—”
I lean over and take hold of her chin, making her face me. My grip isn’t tight, but she doesn’t try to pull away, either.
“Yet you decided to spend more time with me. Why is that?” I ask.
Her eyes widen. “I wanted to make up for ruining your pants.” She whispers the words, like even she doesn’t believe them.
I duck underneath the shoulder strap of the seatbelt so I can get closer to her. I crowd her into the corner of the taxi. “I think you’re a liar,” I say silkily. I stroke the line of her jaw with my finger.
“I am not!”
I brush my thumb across that full bottom lip. “I think you want me so badly that you can’t stand it. It pisses you off. You’re always in control. But not today.” Leaning so close that I can smell her perfume and the warm scent of woman, I say, “You want me to bend you over and fuck you until you scream.”
She’s breathing hard, practically panting, and I’m about to kiss her when the taxi stops.
“We’re here,” Heather breathes.
“Looks like it.”
I pay the driver, who looks bored by our antics, and we get out of the car. It’s a sunny day—unsurprising for LA—and traffic zooms by as we stand outside on the sidewalk. Heather seems like she’s in a daze, and I chuckle.
Minutes later, we’re wandering the aisles. I make a big show of looking around before picking out a god-awful pair of grandpa pants. She rolls her eyes, glances around, then grabs a pair of slacks. “I think this should fit,” she says as she hands me the pants. “I guessed at your measurements.”
I grin. “My measurements, eh? Is that what you were looking at?”
“Behave yourself.” She walks me toward the dressing room, and I when I peek inside, it looks deserted, all six stalls with open doors. “If you need some other sizes, let me know.”
Before she can walk away, I grab her wrist. “Not so fast. I need your opinion on how they look on me.”
“What?” she sputters, immediately pulling back and wildly looking around to see if anyone is watching us. “Come out when you have them on!”
“Nope. Not good enough.” I pull her into the dressing area, and note that a loud bell chimes as soon as we enter. I find the largest dressing room, tug her inside, toss our carry-on bags into the corner, and shut the door.
“I am not— What are you doing?” she whisper-shouts as I place her hands at my belt. Her breathing quickens.
“I need help.”
“Help with what?” She’s breathy and flushed.
“I’m not about to undress myself when a beautiful woman can do it for me.” I trace a finger down her throat, and then I lean forward to nip at her shoulder. She shudders. I take her hands and press them against my crotch.
Heather stares at my groin and her fingers play at my button.
I must admit, I
usually prefer my women svelte, fit, and with cheekbones that could cut glass. Your usual model types. Heather is the complete opposite: curvy, freckles all over her cheeks. But her lips are a dark rose, and I can’t help but wonder what that blond hair of hers would look like fanned across my pillow.
She’s licking her lips now, and her eyes are glassy. Her nipples pucker against the thin fabric of her blouse. She’s sending me every signal in the book.
I trail a hand down her back, down to her luscious ass.
Her breasts push against my chest. Our lips are only a breath apart. Her bright green eyes look up at me.
“What if someone catches us?”
“Did you hear the bell ring when we entered? It’ll warn us if someone gets close.”
She stills, and I sense that goes a long way toward reassuring her. Thank you God for that bell.
“So long as you’re quiet,” I press, “no one will know what we’re doing. Are you going to be quiet?” I say, raising my brows in a challenge.
She swallows hard. Bites her lip. Then blows my mind when she says, “Yes.”
That’s the only signal I need. I kiss her, taking her luscious mouth, and she groans. God, she’s sweet. When she begins to unbutton my pants, I revel in the triumph.
Yes, you’re mine. I’m going to fuck you and make you compare every other man with me.
The thought of her with another man sends a surge of jealousy through me. I kiss her harder, lapping at her mouth. I want her to know that I’m in control here, that I’m the one conquering. She doesn’t fight me. She surrenders, wrapping her arms around my neck. A minute later, she lowers her arms and I hear my zipper being pulled down as my belt loosens.
I kick off my shoes, and she does the same. I take the pins from her hair and then tangle my hands in its heavy weight. I kiss her pale neck, licking and nipping, and she clutches at my shoulders even harder. I can feel her shivering. So responsive, so sensitive. When was the last time I kissed a woman who gave me this kind of control?
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” I mutter. I cup her breasts, thumbing her nipples, and she tips her head back and moans. Suddenly, we’re wearing too many clothes, and buttons fly as I rip open her blouse to reveal the lacy camisole underneath.
“Caleb.” She says my name as I tear off her camisole. She’s wearing a lacy white bra, and there’s nothing there to enhance her assets. My cock is so hard at this point that it’s painful.
I tug her hair; she digs her nails in my shoulders. I kiss her sternum, feel her heart pounding in her chest, and then I’m unhooking that bra to get to the best part. And they are the best part—so far. Her breasts are soft handfuls, her nipples a dark rose like her lips, and there’s not a freckle on them.
“So pale,” I say. “You’ve never gone sunbathing topless?”
She shakes her head. “Never had the guts.”
Now that is something that should be corrected, but when I swirl my tongue around one nipple, thoughts disappear from my mind. I play with her, sucking and licking her juicy nipples, making them redden even more.
“Caleb…” Her voice is insistent, and I stop to look up at her. “Caleb, I don’t…” She struggles for words.
I take her into my arms. “Trust me, okay?”
She stares at me, and after what seems like forever, she nods. “Okay.”
5
Heather
The voice in my head screaming at me to be careful, to not do this absolutely crazy thing, is drowned out when Caleb kisses me again. I do trust him: maybe I shouldn’t, but I do. He took care of me on the flight when I was freaking out, and I’d be a liar if I said that he doesn’t kiss like an angel. Or a devil.
I’m not sure if sleeping with him will take me to heaven or hell, but at this point, I don’t care. As long as I’m with him when we go.
I strip him out of his shirt, and I stifle a gasp when his torso is revealed. Muscular and tanned, he’s practically sporting an eight-pack on his ripped stomach. He chuckles at my look.
“Enjoying yourself, sweetheart?”
Uninterested in letting it be me who’s the only one losing their mind, I delve beneath the waistband of his pants. I’d unzipped his pants earlier, but when he’d started kissing me, I’d gotten sidetracked. Now, though? Nothing’s going to distract me.
His eyes darken as he watches me. I dance my fingers right above his groin, feeling the prickle of hair, and when I delve beneath his boxer shorts, he groans. I cup him through his pants with my other hand, and my entire body shudders as I’m reminded of his size. I thought my ex Bo was a decent size, but clearly, I was missing out.
“Are you just going to play with me?” he growls.
I can’t help the smile that comes across my lips. “Tit for tat,” I tell him. Before he can react, I yank his pants down along with his boxers, and I get an eyeful of the package in question. My God, it’s an eyeful: his cock is long and wide at the top, and a pearl of moisture sits at the tip. I brush that pearl with my thumb, and I can hear him curse.
He’s like steel encased in velvet, and a rush of wetness floods me as I play with him, stroking and massaging his cock. I can’t even get my fingers around him, he’s so big, and I’m not even sure I can take a cock so huge.
He seems to sense my trepidation when he mutters in my ear, “It’ll fit. Don’t worry, sweetheart.”
The thought of him thrusting inside of me with a cock this size? I’m dizzy. I almost collapse at his feet. I hang on with one hand on his shoulder, another continuing to stroke him. To my astonishment, he grows even more underneath my fingers.
“Enough playing.” He bats my hands away and strips me of my own pants, leaving me in my lacy panties. When he sees how soaked I am, he makes a noise of approval in the back of his throat.
“Sit down.” He takes me by the wrist and I sit down on the bench in the corner. He opens my legs wide, and I can’t even think about saying no. I don’t want to say no. I want him to do whatever he wants to me, to my body. I’m completely enthralled with him.
I never do things like this. I’ve always been a sex-within-a-committed-relationship kind of girl. The one time I thought about having a one-night stand, I chickened out and ran back home to drink wine and watch Netflix alone.
Now the hottest guy I’ve ever laid eyes on is kneeling at my feet, his eyes dark, and I’m shivering just from his look. I’m so turned on I feel like my body is a live wire, filled with electricity.
He hooks his fingers in my panties and slowly slides them down my legs. Thank God I shaved my legs yesterday, I think, and I bite my cheek to keep from laughing. I’m hysterical. I’m losing it.
But now he’s leaning upward and parting my sex, and all of my hysterical thoughts flee. I should be embarrassed, but I’m only turned on. He gazes at me, and I hear him groan, deep in the back of his throat.
“Damn, you’re soaking for me, sweetheart. Like a juicy peach I just want to take a bite out of.”
He dips his finger into my sheath, and my toes curl. He’s barely touching—just a butterfly’s touch—but I’m going insane. I hook my fingers into his hair and gasp as he kisses my sex, his tongue coming out to lick me. Licking my folds as he would an ice cream cone, he drives my passion up, higher and higher, and my entire body clenches. I don’t know whether I’m going to scream or cry—maybe both. Even if someone walks into the dressing room right now, activating that damn bell, I’m not sure I would care, I’m that far gone.
“You taste amazing,” he says, and I can see my juices glistening on his lips. When he takes my clit into his mouth, he delves inside me with two fingers. I bow upward, panting, and he just sucks my swollen bud harder. He’s relentless. My body is on fire, and I can feel the wave coming upon me with each stroke of his fingers inside of me. He quickens his pace, thrusting his fingers inside me as he mouths my clit, and it’s only a few moments later that the wave hits me.
I scream, my body convulsing, and he just holds my hips down with his other arm. I’m
shaking and moaning, riding his face, and I hear him chuckle darkly.
I’m a limp mess, panting and gasping, when he grabs his wallet from his Coke-stained pants and takes out a condom. He sheathes himself in latex, and then stands and picks me up in one movement. I’m on his lap now, my sensitive sex brushing against his hard cock, when I hear a bell that tells me someone has walked into the dressing room.
We both freeze. Caleb stares into my eyes, a question there. Do I want him to stop?
Although I’ve just come, I want him inside me. I want to feel him thrusting his hardened length until I’m crying out again. My sex flutters.
Quickly, I shake my head. “Keep going,” I mouth.
He grins, then kisses me, and I taste my own tang on his lips. I feel his fingers delve between us, and then he’s pressing inside of me. My earlier fear that he’d be too big makes me still, but he slides in easily, I’m so hot and wet. But he’s big, and I almost whimper at how full I am.
But I can’t. I have to be quiet.
He presses his lips to my ear and breathes, “Fuck, you’re tight,” as he finally pushes inside of me completely.
I lean back, and he kisses my throat as he begins to shove inside of me in quick thrusts that inflame me all over again. He takes me furiously, using my body for his own pleasure, and I love it. I bounce against him, holding onto his shoulders, and he grunts. He picks up speed; our bodies slap together, and for a second I fear someone will catch us. That we’ll be caught. But I don’t care. I can’t stop him.
I can feel that wave again. It’s going to hit me, and it’s going to be even more intense. I’m trembling and gasping for air, my sex clenching around his cock. He licks my throat, then he freezes and cants his head to the side as if listening to something.
That infernal bell rings again.
“We’re alone again,” he says.
I widen my eyes, silently asking, How do you know someone else didn’t come in?
“Trust me,” he says.
And the amazing thing is, I do.