by Whitney G.
Come Fly with Me: A Collection
Whitney G.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2021 by Whitney Gracia Williams
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission of the author.
Cover designed by Najla Qamber of Najla Qamber Designs
Contents
A Note from Whitney G.
(Turbulence)
Synopsis
Turbulence (n:)
Prologue
Terminal A
Gate A1
Gate A2
Blog Post
Gate A3
Gate A4
Gate A5
Blog Post
Gate A6
Terminal B
Gate B7
Blog Post
Gate B8
Gate B9
Gate B10
Gate B11
Gate B12
Gate B13
Gate B14
Gate B15
Blog Post
Gate B16
Gate B17
Gate B18
Gate B19
Blog Post
Blog Post
Gate B20
Gate B21
Gate B22
Gate B23
Gate B24
Gate B25
Gate B26
Blog Post
Gate B27
Gate B28
Gate B29
Gate B30
Blog Post
Blog Post
Gate B31
Gate B32
Gate B33
Gate B34
Blog Post
Blog Post
Blog Post
Blog Post
Blog Post
Gate B35
Gate B36
Gate B37
Gate B38
Terminal C
Blog Post
Blog Post
Gate C39
Gate C40
Gate C41
Gate C42
Gate C43
Official Elite Airways Press Release
Gate C44
Gate C45
Official Elite Airways Press Release
Gate C46
Gate C47
Gate C48
Blog Post
Gate C49
Gate C50
Gate C51
Official Elite Airways Press Release
Gate C52
Gate C53
Gate C54
Want more Jake & Gillian?
The Layover
Synopsis
A Note from Whitney G.
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 2A
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Author’s Note + Thank You
Two Weeks Notice
A Note From Whitney G.
Prologue
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Two Months Later
Six
Six (B)
Six Months Later
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Two Full Years Later
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Thirteen (B)
Fourteen
Fifteen (B)
Sixteen
Eighteen
Seventeen (B)
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Nine
Thirty
Thirty-One
Thirty-Two
One Week Later
Thirty-Three
Thirty-Four
Two Weeks Later
Thirty-Five
Thirty-Six
Three Weeks Later
Thirty-Seven
Thirty-Eight
Thirty-Nine
Epilogue
On A Tuesday (& Other Kindle Unlimited Titles):
Author’s Confession + Thank You
Also By Whitney G.
For my BFF, Nicole London.
(My books would suck without you.)
* * *
& for the F.L.Y. crew.
(I love you more than you’ll ever know.)
A Note from Whitney G.
Thank you so much for taking a chance on Come Fly with Me!
Inside of this special collection, you’ll first discover Turbulence. This erotic thrill ride features the cockiest pilot in the sky and tons of intense, sexy times that will fog your kindle screen. (I loved a particular minor character so much that I penned a brand new, thrilling & erotic trilogy in 2020 to dive back into this writing style. You can experience all of those steamy twists and turns via the Empire of Lies trilogy.)
After Turbulence, you’ll find The Layover—a standalone novella that was the first short romance I ever published. It features a sexy meet-cute between strangers on a plane.
Last and never least, you’ll find Two Weeks Notice, an office romance that I hope will help you escape.
I hope you enjoy Come Fly with Me, and if you do, be sure to join the F.L.Y list to stay informed about what I’ll be releasing next!
(F.L.Y. = Effin Love You. Because whether you love or hate this story, I still love you for giving it a chance!)
Sincerely,
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2016 by Whitney G.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission of the author.
Cover design by Najla Qamber of Najla Qamber Designs.
Synopsis
Strap yourself into the cockpit for the 'flight of your life' via the newest erotic romance from New York Times bestselling author Whitney G.
Jake Weston and I met under a cloud of clichés: Boy meets girl. Boy charms girl. Boy screws girl.
He was the sexiest, cockiest man I'd ever encountered, but I had no idea he was a senior pilot when we met. No idea we worked for the same airline and had secrets just like me.
After a passionate night of unforgettable sex, I thought I'd never see him again, but when I did, neither of us could walk away...
We weren't supposed to be together, we definitely weren't supposed to fall in love, and yet our turbulent and forbidden love affair took on a life of its own.
We knew we could potentially crash and burn, but what we had was so intoxicating and inescapable that we were both willing to risk it all...
This is us.
This is our messed up love.
&nbs
p; This is Turbulence.
Turbulence (n:)
The quality or state of violent disorder or commotion.1 Chaotic or unstable motion in the atmosphere.2 US. Anything and everything that characterizes us.3
For you.
Me.
Us…
Prologue
Gillian
How many times will you burn me?
Three, four, five, maybe ten—
Is it me who’s burning you?
Yes, ‘this’ needs to end.
If you walk away first, I’ll follow suit.
I’ve told you this before, and yet you never do…
* * *
The first time I flew through severe turbulence, I swore on my life I’d never fly again.
It happened during a red-eye flight from Seattle to London, when three hours in, we were swept up in a sudden summer storm. The plane shook violently as the passengers screamed and prayed for their lives, and my calm assurances of “Hold on! Everyone, please just hold on!” fell on deaf ears.
The pilot was young and inexperienced, his soft voice not comforting in the least. And as the glasses from the first class cabin shattered onto the floor amidst toppling luggage, I promised myself that my days in the sky were long over if we ever landed.
I broke that promise hours later, of course, but I could finally say that I’d experienced the worst of what turbulence could ever be.
Or, so I thought.
“Miss?” A passenger in first class interrupts my thoughts, touching my elbow as I walk down the aisle. “Miss?”
“Yes?”
“How much longer until we arrive in Paris?”
“Eight hours, sir.” I resist the urge to tell him that he asked me this question fifteen minutes ago. “Would you like something else to drink tonight?”
“A refill on my white wine, please.”
I nod and quickly oblige, retrieving the wine from the galley’s cooler and filling his glass to the top. I need to take care of him as fast as possible so I can finally sit alone and address the unbearable ache in my chest.
“May I have a blanket as well?” the man asks before I can step away.
I force a smile and retrieve one from the overhead bin above his seat, unwrapping it for him and placing it onto his lap. “Would you like anything else?”
“No, but—” He stops mid-sentence and raises his eyebrow. “Oh, wow, your face is really red. Why are you crying?”
“I’m not crying.” I lie. “It’s allergy season.”
“Allergies? On a plane?”
“Would you like anything else from me, sir?” I feel a tear rolling down my cheeks. “If not, I’ll be sure to check on you again soon.”
He doesn’t answer me. Instead he pulls a handkerchief from his breast-pocket and holds it out to me.
“Whatever it is,” he says, looking me up and down. “I hope it’s not a guy. You’re much too beautiful to cry over something like that…Wait. It is a guy, isn’t it?”
I don’t respond. I simply take his handkerchief and walk away.
I head toward the back of the plane—past a cabin full of sleeping passengers, and lock myself in the lavatory. As more tears fall down my face, I pull out my phone and log into my private blog so I can reread the words I wrote months ago. So I can remember the agonizing feeling of failing to listen to myself.
* * *
~BLOG POST~
This is the last time I will say this to myself.
The very last time.
My heart can’t take another sequence of angry arguments, another round in this dangerous game of “Will we make it? Should we make it?” or another spin on this never-ending carousel of highs and lows.
Yes, the way this man fucks me is incomparable and leaves me craving more the second he pulls out of me. And yes, the way he pleasures my pussy with his mouth and makes me come for hours on end will forever be unparalleled. But the way we fit (rather, don’t fit) has finally reached its climax.
I will not go back.
I will not go back.
I. Will. Not. Go. Back.
* * *
A knock comes to the door before I can read the rest, and I sigh.
“Someone’s in here,” I say. “The occupied light is on.”
The knock comes again, much louder this time, so I groan and open the door.
“The occupied light is clearly—” My words are cut short with a gasp, as I take in the sight of the man I currently despise, the man I’ve been attempting to avoid this entire flight. The pilot. His beautiful blue eyes are glaring into mine, his jaw is clenched, and no matter how badly I don’t want to be attracted to him right now, I can’t help it.
With his hard and chiseled face of perfection, his full and defined lips that are definitely molded for long and alluring kisses, and a cockiness that radiates off his body from miles away, he’s always managed to leave me breathless and aroused with a single glance.
Behind him, a few reading lights in the cabin blink off, and a few TV screens begin to play the second in-flight film.
“We need to talk, Gillian,” he says, his voice tight. “Now.”
“I’ll pass.” I try to slam the door in his face, but he holds it open and pushes me inside—locking the door behind him.
For several seconds, neither of us says a word. We simply stare at each other like we have so many times before, with pain and disappointment hanging in the air between us.
“I have nothing else to say to you, Jake.” My voice cracked. “Nothing else to say.”
“Good.” He hisses. “I’ll do most of the talking.”
“Well, that’s quite ironic. You don’t normally talk at all.”
“Are you fucking someone else?” His words come out so harsh and clipped, I’m not sure that I heard them right.
“What?”
“Do I need to repeat it?” He glares at me, closing the gap between us. “Are you fucking someone else?”
“We haven’t spoken in weeks.” I grit my teeth. “I haven’t seen you in weeks, and this is the first thing you ask me? How about, ‘Hello, Gillian. It’s been a long time since we last spoke. How are you?’”
“Hello, Gillian.” He mocks me, locking his eyes on mine. “It’s been a long time since we last spoke. How are you?” He doesn’t give me a chance to answer. “Are you fucking someone else?”
“No.”
“Are you seeing someone else?”
“That’s the same goddamn question.”
“Then give me the same goddamn answer.”
“No.” I cross my arms. “No, I have not been seeing someone else, but I will be soon. And you know what? It’ll be someone who doesn’t make me feel this way every few weeks, someone who doesn’t get a sick thrill out of disappearing on me for weeks at a time or leaving me wondering at all hours of the night because he won’t open up to me. Best of all, it’ll be someone who will respect me and not act like loving me is a burden.”
“I’ve never said loving you was a burden.”
“You’ve never said you loved me at all.”
Silence.
“Gillian…” He sighs, running a hand through his dirty blond hair. “Listen to me.”
“Screw you. Let me leave, please.” I push at his chest, attempting to get away, but he holds me still. “Let me leave right now, Jake.”
“No.” He wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me close, using his free hand to wipe away my tears with his fingertips. He caresses my back and kisses the corners of my mouth, softly biting my bottom lip like he usually does, right before he fucks me. “You know that I never want to hurt you.”
“Do I?”
“You fucking should.” He bites my bottom lip again, much harder this time, and then he whispers against my mouth. “I need you to give ‘us’ another chance.”
“What makes you think I would be stupid enough to do that?”