by Liz Schulte
She smiled. “Ah, yes. Well, it was something like that only with a happier ending. May I take your jacket?”
He took off his black leather jacket and handed it to her. She folded it neatly over her arm then gestured for him to continue moving to his right.
Bret strode through a large galley of such beauty and quality a five-star chef would turn pea-soup green with envy. He glimpsed high-polished wood cabinets, marble countertops, and the silver sheen of matching metallic microwave, oven, and dishwasher. He slipped through the tiny hallway and halted.
Holy shit.
The spacious cabin looked like the inside of Austin Powers’ private playroom. The carpet was thick purple shag, the tables were metal and curvy, and the plush chairs and two couches—were a variety of funky colors: sherbet orange, Play-Doh yellow, pistachio green, and hot pink. He counted at least five lava lamps. A disco ball suspended from the ceiling slowly twirled, bathing the outrageous room in sparkles.
“It looks like the 1960s threw up in here,” he said, soliciting a laugh from Meddie.
“Your companion has already arrived.” She put away the jacket in a closet.
“Not my companion,” Bret said. “I’m a reporter, and I was assigned to share the suite with another reporter. We don’t even know each other.”
Meddie grinned. “If you say so.” She gestured to a wall. “She’s right in there.”
“She?” So they’d paired him with a female reporter. He guessed that made sense. He wondered if he’d recognize her from other events he’d covered.
The wall had splats of neon colored the tinny surface. He barely made out the outline of a door, but its big purple handle was easy to spot.
“This place is a trip.”
“If you think this outside is psychedelic, wait ‘til you see the suite.”
He wondered what his roommate looked like. Was she beautiful? Could she compare to the woman he’d met at the Monet opening? What if she didn’t find him attractive? Did he really care? In a way, he did. Bret was a handsome man. He’d rarely spent a Valentine’s Day without a date, but there’d never been anyone special. He really wanted to find that person that would end his string of meaningless dates.
“There are call buttons at several stations in the aircraft. If you need anything, use the system to contact me. Otherwise, you will not be disturbed for the duration of the flight.”
“Gotcha.”
“Do you have any questions?”
“No.”
“Enjoy your flight, Mr. Jernigan.”
“Thank you.” He allowed himself the fantasy of meeting a vivacious woman on the plane. If he had a bucket list, joining the mile high club would be on it. His boss would totally approve of that story. Not that Bret would write about anything so personal.
Not long after Meddie retired to the crew rest area, located just beyond the galley, the pilot announced takeoff. Within ten minutes, the plane taxied onto the runway and roared into the sky. In no time at all he was freed from his chair and approaching the door to the suite.
Should he knock and try to act like a hammy Adam Sandler? Open the door slowly and do a sexy James Dean impersonation? Burst in and scream, “Stella! Steeeeelllllaaaa!” with a Marlon Brando scowl?
Bret grabbed the handle and … hesitated. He wasn’t sure what he expected in a room built for heavenward romance. Inhaling a fortifying breath, he yanked open the door and entered the suite.
Shocked from the onslaught of intense colors, he took two strides and stopped. The door swung shut behind him, slamming into place.
Everything was pink—from the huge bed to the heart-shaped hot tub. The walls, chairs, sheets, pillows, carpets, curtains, even the champagne bottle and flutes … all items were varying shades of pink. Good Lord! This room was not built for or by a man. Although, most men only needed a stiff breeze to feel a spark. Women needed seducing. This room was designed for that purpose.
Feeling slightly dazed, his gaze zeroed in on the only thing not pink.
A brunette stood next to the bed, one foot planted on the floor, the other on the bed itself. She wore a tight black dress and a pair of heels. Her back was to him, and she didn’t seem to notice his arrival. One manicured hand wrapped around her hip as her shoulders thrust back to give him a spectacular view of her ass. It was a pose he’d seen many, many times in men’s magazines. Was it any wonder that particular stance was so popular? Seeing a woman model her body like half-siren, half-sex kitten was erotic as hell.
His heart stuttered to a stop before resuming its beat at a frantic pace when she finally turned around. His temperature shot to 300 degrees. It was her. Karee. The lady in red … now the lady in his room.
Thank you, God. Thank you!
Her mouth formed a small surprised “o”.
Christ. Her skin was tanned, and it seemed to shimmer in the low lighting of the room. It was almost as if she’d been dipped in gold.
He licked his suddenly dry lips. Damn. He couldn’t stop looking at her legs. Her toenails were painted a pearlescent white. Her calves were sleek muscled … pretty knees—the woman had pretty knees, and her thighs were toned, and her … he gulped. Sweat broke out on his brow. He wanted to taste her. Now.
“It’s you,” he managed.
Chapter Four
“I know you,” she said. “Bret, right?”
“Yes. And you’re Karee,” he responded, his voice hoarse. Well, damn, he might be able to speak more coherently if she wasn’t standing there looking almost naked and all-the-way scrumptious. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you since we met yesterday.”
“Is that why you took off?”
“I … uh, no.”
“Black loafers, black jeans, black shirt,” she mused, checking out his form. “Yesterday you looked like a café mocha and today, you look like a licorice whip.”
“Do you like licorice?”
She smiled, a quirking of the lips that suggested she not only liked candy, she did wicked things with it … things she might do with him if he played his cards right.
Then he caught sight of the object she gripped in her other hand.
It was six inches long.
Two inches wide.
And pink.
“Is that what I think it is?” he asked.
“It’s a vibrator,” she said, her cheeks suddenly red. “You should see all the stuff in the toy chest! Sex aids I’ve never seen before—I mean a Rubik’s cube would be easier to figure out than some of those devices. Anyway, it works like the mini-bar in a hotel room. I thought I’d get some pictures with my phone for the article I have to write.” She sat on bed and patted the vibrator dildo against her palm. “If we are going to be roomies, we might as well set the ground rules. I am here strictly for business. No hanky panky.”
“You have an adventurous streak. A real Indiana Jane,” he teased.
Karee laughed and set the toy down. “You’re funny. This luxury liner is amazingly scandalous. What magazine do you write for?”
Bret lied. “The Vegas Go.” It was a travel magazine, and the first one that came to his thoughts. He didn’t want her to associate him with Max Rutledge and the Moana incident.
“You know, Bret.” She put the vibrator down. “I was disappointed when you disappeared from the exhibition.” She crossed her legs, and the black dress rose up her shapely thighs.
“I’m really disappointed that I’m not kissing you.”
“What?”
He felt himself getting hard under her examining gaze. “I really want to kiss you right now. As a matter of fact, I haven’t been able to think of anything else since we met.” He definitely wanted more than a kiss, but it was a start.
“I’m not easy.”
“I like a challenge.”
“Okay then,” she said. “Come kiss me.”
Bret wasted no time crossing the small room. He leaned over, pressing his lips against Karee’s and feeling the warmth rush through his body as she opened for hi
m.
After, she said, “Now what do you want to do?”
Wow, her boldness made his pulse race. He answered her just as bravely. “I want to taste you.”
Almost like a dream, Karee hiked her dress to her hips, revealing a white thong, and spread her thighs in a pure act of challenge. “Taste me then.”
“Okay.” He settled between her legs. He planted a soft kiss on the thong’s white lace triangle and was rewarded by Karee’s low moan.
He kissed her inner thigh and paused at the sweet tang on his lips. Experimentally, he licked her from hip to pubic bone, and tasted the faint sweetness again. “Your skin has flavor.”
“Honey dust,” she whispered. “I found it in one of the drawers.”
That explained the gold shimmer of her skin he’d noticed earlier. “Research?” he asked, unable to keep the grin off his face.
“Research,” she breathlessly agreed.
“Are you sure?” he asked her. What they were doing was impulsive, almost irresponsible, but more than anything else, he wanted her to say yes.”
“Yes.”
He didn’t need more. The honey dust smelled as good as it tasted and he found himself feasting on her legs, thighs, hips, stomach. His hard-on gouged his stomach, protesting its imprisonment, and his balls tightened, joining the complaint. Uncomfortable genitals, though, were not reason enough to stop exploring the lovely body of Karee.
Bret had the desire, but not the ability, to rip off the thong. With trembling fingers, he pulled the scrap of material off her hips, down her legs, and flung the panties onto the floor.
He licked her with slow strokes, drawing her juicy clit between his lips. Warm and sweet. As ripe as a peach plucked on a summer day. Desire rippled through him; he swallowed a groan. God, yes!
“I-I have a confession,” Karee said.
“Hmmm?” He thrust his tongue rapidly inside her. He couldn’t wait until his cock had the joy of slipping inside her tight warmth and stroking them both to heaven.
He felt the dive of her hands into his hair, the lift of her hips, a silent encouragement for his continued efforts. He returned his attention to her sweet sex, allowing his tongue to flirt with the inner lips as he worked his way to the jewel in the crown. He lifted his head just enough to remind, “Confession?”
“I … uh … oh Lord.” She sucked in a breath, her fingers digging into his scalp. “I was messing around with the vibrator before you arrived on scene. So I’m incredibly close to—“
She screamed, pressing his face against her wet heat as she came. Writhing, bucking, panting … she was wild in her ecstasy. He pushed his tongue inside her to feel the vibrations of her pleasure; his mouth flooded with her nectar. Finally, she sank to the mattress, obviously replete. With slow care, he soothed her clitoris and all the while his cock begged for playtime.
* * *
The effects of the orgasm still ricocheted through Karee as Bret did a sensual crawl up her body. Within seconds, he’d unzipped her dress, yanked it over her head, and disposed of her bra. His mouth was warm and wet, his tongue raspy as he sucked her nipples into hardness. Renewed desire tore through her, ripping away the soft complacency left by her incredible orgasm. Bret’s devotion to her breasts made her squirmy and hot, but her excitement revved into overdrive at the prospect of Bret’s hard cock thrusting inside her.
She couldn’t believe she was actually doing this. They were doing this! She’d been thinking about him before he’d entered the room. Using him as eye candy for the vibrator play. When he’d said he wanted to kiss her, her mind had whispered “No way.” but her body had screamed, “Yes, please!”
Bret was sexy, handsome, and his body was rock hard, just like his cock. The way he’d kissed her, the way he’d brought her to climax… Whoa. Even if she hadn’t pre-sexed herself, she’d have gone quickly under his expert ministrations. She would not regret this, she told herself. It was Valentine’s Day; she was on a luxury jet built for romance, and she was going to by-god indulge herself for once in her boring, lonely life.
With eager hands, she worked her way across his chest, down the six-pack stomach, all the way to the luscious hard-on. God, he had muscles on his muscles. His warm flesh felt as smooth and hard as burnished wood.
Speaking of wood … Her fingers swirled around the plumed head of his cock before sliding along the shaft. She could tell by feel that his penis was circumcised. It was also thick and long. Jesus. He shifted to give her more room to play; bless his multi-tasking heart, he didn’t stop his lustful assault on her breasts. She wrapped one hand around his length while the other cupped and massaged his balls. They wiggled against each other, skin sliding, hips bumping, and moans escaping.
“You smell so good. Taste so good,” he muttered. “Honey dust rules!” He deftly turned her sensitized nipples into aching points of contact—amative zings from nipples to her groin sizzled through her. It felt like her nervous system had been electrified.
“Kiss me,” she whispered. “Then take me.”
He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her breathless. His tongue danced with hers, mimicking the movement of his cock as he parted her legs and slid his hard length inside her. She wound her legs around his waist and matched his thrusts, her hands clutching his hair, her mouth attacking his with fervor.
“Oh Bret!”
He slid his arms under her back, holding tightly as he rolled over. Karee found herself on top, his delicious hardness embedded inside her. She was so greedy for him. Again. With eager anticipation, she planted her hands on his chest and rode him.
Bret filled his hands with her breasts, kneading the flesh, tweaking the nipples. She pushed her clit against him, rubbing harder and faster, slamming herself against him.
“Yes, Karee. Oh yes.” He grabbed her hips and shoved deeply inside her.
She responded by clutching him with her pelvic muscles.
“Wait. Shit. Damn.” He stilled completely and sucked in slow breaths. He stared at her with a mixture of pleasure and pain in his eyes. “If you do that again, I’ll come.”
“So the Kegel exercises are worth the effort?”
“Condom,” he said.
“Yes, she agreed. “Shit.” Karee inhaled a shaky breath. It really had been too long if she was letting her lust override good sense.
In less than a minute, Bret was sheathed and ready.
“I’ve always wanted to try a particular position,” she said, hoping he was up for the undertaking.
“You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”
“There are worse ways to die.” She slid off him, and flipped around so that she faced his legs.
“You have a really nice ass,” he commented.
“Thanks.” She did what amounted to a half-backbend over him. Her feet went on either side of his thighs, her hands settled on each side his chest. “Just so you don’t worry about my flexibility, I practice Ananda Yoga every morning.”
He made a gurgling sound then, “I’ve never seen this particular gymnastic move in the Olympics.” His hands slid along her buttocks and squeezed the rounded flesh. “Let’s go for the gold.”
He entered her with slow precision. She moved her hips, sliding up and down his length. Oh God. As she got more comfortable with the position, she increased her pace. That sweet cock hit her G-spot with erotic accuracy. Pleasure spiked in her belly.
She felt the curl of Bret’s fingers around her waist; he slipped his other hand over her hip as he thrust in earnest.
Pressure and pleasure doubled as heat rushed to her belly. “Bret, you’re going to make me come again.”
“I hope so, because—”
As her orgasm bloomed into sparks of heat and joy, she took all of him, rejoicing when she heard his prayerful gasp, felt the clench of muscles, the stillness of his hot, hard shaft right before…
They came together, a torrent of sound-feeling-emotion-movement. She was robbed of sight, of breath, of thought. For this one unending
moment, all she knew was the beating of her own heart and the purity of her own bliss.
Chapter Five
“I think that’s why I’ve always wanted to have sex on an airplane,” said Karee as they lay on the bed and talked. Neither one of them had moved since they collapsed next to each other, but they’d spent a pleasurable half hour talking about a variety of subjects. They had the relationship thing ass-backwards, didn’t they? Hell, maybe it would be better if human beings tested the physical attraction first. Nothing was worse than liking a guy because he was smart, funny, and kind … only to find the sizzle was missing in the bedroom.
And they certainly had sizzle.
“Ol’ Bobby Dalton kissed you senseless in the bathroom?” Bret rolled onto his side and traced shapes on her stomach. “That’s not a bad way to end an exciting high school band trip to Hawaii. What instrument did he play?”
“If you expect me to say the flute, forget it.” She laughed. “He played the drums. I played the flute. Er, but not his flute. Unfortunately, that kiss was the only thing I ever got from Bobby. It was a great kiss, though. Maybe that was the beginning of what my friend calls Uppis Hottis Hornyitus. It would explain why I get … um, squirmy on flights, and why I keep having that recurring dream.” She sighed, feeling oh-so-relaxed. “Anyhoo, after we got home, Bobby forgot my name.”
“High school boys are assholes.” He encircled her naval. “I know. I used to be one.”
“You’ve improved with age,” she said, capturing his roving fingers.
“Not really.” He sighed. “I need to tell you something.”
Cold dread punched her in the stomach. She’d been with Bret for almost two hours, and she was already getting the “we need to talk” speech.
“Shit. You have a girlfriend.”
His brows rose. “Uh, no.”
It was worse! “Married.”
“Nope.”
“You live with your mother.”
“I like girls, I’ve never walked down the aisle, and my mother lives on the East Coast.”
“Well, how bad could it be?”