Come Fly with Me: A Collection

by Whitney G.

Meredith: Ignore the front entrance of the building when you get there. Go down the alley. Blue door. Knock six times. Mark Strauss will be dressed in gray. (I’ll have French toast, eggs benedict, and hand squeezed orange juice in the morning when you end up going home alone tonight. Thank you in advance.)

  * * *

  I laughed and walked down the alley, wincing as my feet adjusted to the height of my new heels. When I made it to the blue door, I knocked six times as Meredith instructed and a man in a beige suit opened the door.

  “Elevator is down the hall,” he said. “Rooftop level. The host asks that you don’t take pictures or record any videos while you’re here. If caught doing so, you’ll be escorted out. Clear?”

  “Clear.” I stepped past him and boarded the elevator, taking it straight to the roof. When it came to a complete stop, I found myself thrust into a sea of expensive black and grey suits, and colorful designer dresses.

  Twinkling lights shone brightly against the roof’s railing, white leather couches cornered glass coffee tables that were lined with Cuban cigars, and waitresses in black V-neck dresses weaved in between guests to serve drinks.

  Out of nowhere, a hostess walked up to me and handed me a glass of dark, red wine.

  I took a quick sip and coughed as it burned its way down my throat.

  Remembering the first thing I needed to accomplish while I was here, I walked around the roof in search of Mark Strauss. It didn’t take me long to find him at all. Dressed in all grey with a black hat, he was alone and leaning against the railing, staring at the captivating night view of the city.

  “Excuse me.” I cleared my throat as I approached him. “Are you Mr. Strauss?”

  “Depends.” He turned to look at me. “What are you offering?”

  I took the USB from my purse and handed it to him. “From Meredith Thatchwood.”

  “Ah. The Thatchwood girl.” He smiled. “So the anti-heiress rumor is true after all. Tell her I regret that I couldn’t meet her tonight. In the meantime…” He looked me up and down. “You can call me Mark. What’s your name?”

  “Gillian.”

  “Nice to meet you, Gillian.” He sipped his drink and his eyes landed on my exposed cleavage. “Full disclosure: If my wife wasn’t here and watching my every move, I’d tell you that you are, hands down, the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen. And then I’d beg you to come home with me so we could fuck each other until sunrise.” He turned around and waved at someone in the distance. “But since that’s not possible, do me a favor and wave to my wife so she won’t come over and interrupt my few minutes of freedom.”

  Confused, I turned around and waved in the same direction as him, meeting the gaze of a pretty woman in an ivory dress. She raised her glass in our direction, continuing to talk to the women who surrounded her, and then Mr. Strauss turned to face the city again.

  “What type of plane do you think that is?” he asked, pointing to a black and white aircraft that was flying high above the Hudson.

  “If I had to guess, I would say it’s a Boeing 737.”

  “What?” He looked at me.

  “A Boeing 737,” I repeated. “What would you say?”

  “I would say nothing.” He laughed. “I wasn’t expecting an answer like that. I meant like, jet plane, turbo plane, but wow. That’s pretty impressive.”

  “What’s so funny, darling?” His wife suddenly stepped between us. “Who’s your little friend here?”

  He rolled his eyes and quickly introduced us. Then he slipped his arm around her waist and looked me over one last time before stepping back.

  “Very impressive, Gillian,” he said, winking. “The plane thing.”

  His wife scowled at me and he smiled one last time before leading her away. I waited until they were out of my sight and turned toward the city, hoping I wouldn’t run into either of them for the rest of the night.

  “The ‘plane thing’ was very impressive.” A different man, with a deeper and more dominant voice, stepped closer to the railing. “It would’ve been even more impressive if you’d actually gotten it right…”

  “Excuse me?” I turned to my left, catching him mid-sip. “What did you just say?”

  “I said—” He turned to face me. “That your plane trivia would’ve been more impressive, if you’d gotten it right. Don’t you think?”

  I couldn’t think at all. I couldn’t even try.

  This man was the utter definition of perfection, the very template of living, breathing, sex. His stormy blue eyes gleamed beneath the party’s dim lights as they locked onto mine, and his full and defined lips were pressed into a tempting, sexy smirk. His hair, dirty-blond and slightly messy, looked as if someone had just run her fingers through it.

  His suit, an all black three piece, clung to his body in all the right ways, and the watch on his wrist—a stunning silver, Audemars Piguet, let me know that he could afford to spend my entire year’s salary on something as insignificant as an accessory.

  “Should I take your silence to accept that I’m right?” He smiled a set of pearly whites and I shook my head, trying to snap out of my trance.

  “You should take it to mean that you don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” I looked up at the plane again. It was farther away, but still easily seen. “That’s a Boeing 737, and it’s pretty rude to eavesdrop.”

  “It’s pretty rude to spread the wrong information.” He smiled again and stepped closer, looking up at the sky. “That’s an Airbus 320, not a Boeing 737.” He waited for me to follow where his fingers were pointing. “The difference is in the nose of the plane and the cockpit windows…Airbus is bulbous, Boeing is pointed. 737 cockpit windows are diagonal, and Airbus cockpit windows are—”

  “Square,” I said, immediately realizing he was right. “Well, congratulations. You’ve won the random plane facts game tonight. I hope you don’t think there’s a prize for that.”

  “There should be.”

  “How about the satisfaction of knowing you’re an arrogant eavesdropper?”

  “Or,” he said, “The satisfaction of knowing you don’t really give a fuck that I eavesdropped. That you’re happy that I did it, and now you don’t want me to leave you alone.”

  Silence.

  His smile widened and the scent of his intoxicating cologne made me take one step closer to him. He kept his eyes on mine for several seconds, as if he was daring me to move even closer, but instead, he broke the silence.

  “Jake,” he said, extending his hand toward mine as the silver “J” cufflinks on his sleeve sparkled against the night.

  “Gillian.” The feel of his hand over mine sent a wave of warmth throughout my entire body and I drew back, completely confused as to how a simple handshake could make all of my nerves come to life. How a complete stranger could make me wet with a simple smile and a flick of his wrist.

  A waitress suddenly stepped in front of us, interrupting our moment as she gave us fresh glasses of champagne. She asked me if I was enjoying myself, if I needed anything else, and as she launched into a short spiel about how amazing the hors d’oeuvres were tonight, I felt Jake’s heated gaze moving up and down my body, felt him turning me on without even trying.

  The second the waitress walked away, he spoke. “What do you do for a living, Gillian?”

  “I’m—” I remembered what Meredith said about lying tonight. “I’m a pilot, a captain actually.”

  He raised his eyebrow. “You look a little too young to be a captain.”

  “My high number of flight hours say differently.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes.” I barely managed to remain standing as he took my glass from my hand and set it on the ledge.

  “Are you a commercial or a private pilot?”

  “Private.” I needed to ask him what he did for a living, to run away from this lie and subject as fast as possible, but he leaned back against the railing and pulled me closer to him, making me lose my train of thought.

 
As he pressed his hands against my hips, I stood still between his legs, so close to him that I was convinced he was about to press his mouth against mine and kiss me, but he didn’t.

  “How long have you been flying?” he asked.

  “As long as I can remember.”

  “Hmmm…” He trailed his finger against my bottom lip, appearing even more intrigued. He looked as if he were waiting for me to jerk back or tell him to stop, but when I didn’t, his smile returned. “So, which airline do you fly for, Gillian?”

  “It’s a really small one…” The rough way he said my name affected me even more than his intense eye-fucking. “You wouldn’t know it. Trust me.”

  “I would.” He lowered his voice, his lips nearly brushing against mine. “Try me.”

  “It’s um…It’s a small, private one.”

  “Yes,” he said, his voice even deeper. “We’ve established that it’s private, Gillian. However, that’s not what I’m asking you. What’s the name of the airline?”

  Shit… “I can’t tell you that. It’s too personal.” I surrendered as his hand caressed my back, as his fingers teasingly trailed the imprint of my bra. “What do you do for a living?”

  “I’m a bestselling author.”

  “What?” My mind raced with questions. “Really?”

  “No.” His lips latched onto mine without warning and I lost all sense of time as his tongue slid deeper into my mouth—as he bit down hard on my bottom lip, making me even wetter than I was before. His hands were gripping my hips, his fingers pressing into my skin, and I let out a soft moan as his mouth continued to control mine. “I’m not really a fucking author…” He whispered against my lips, and a knowing smile crossed his face as he pulled away from me. “But since you’re pretending to be a pilot, I can pretend to be whatever I want to be, correct?”

  “Yes.” I felt my cheeks heating. “I guess so.”

  “Did you come here alone?” he asked.

  “I think you should’ve asked that before you kissed me.”

  “If your sexy ass mouth wasn’t such a distraction, I would’ve,” he said. “Did you come here alone?”

  I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.

  His fingers were running through my hair, and his mouth was close to mine again. My panties were soaked and sticking to my skin.

  “Gillian?” His smirk slid into a cocky smile. “Did you come here alone?”

  “Yes and no.”

  “It can’t be both.”

  “I came alone,” I said, barely hearing my own voice.

  “Hmmm.” His fingers slid down to my neck, his heated touch setting my skin on fire. “Did you plan on leaving here alone?”

  “What if I did?”

  “Then I think you need to change your mind.” With that, his hand went around my waist and he pulled me close, kissing me deeply, making me forget the people around us. His kiss was controlling my every breath, my every thought; it was the type of kiss that would never be forgotten. A kiss that was already cementing itself into my future memories.

  The party around us ceased to exist—the light sounds of the piano and party chatter all diminished to a hum so soft I could only hear the two of us breathing.

  His grip tightened around me and I surrendered full control of my mouth to him, letting him show me how pleasurable a night with him could possibly be.

  All of a sudden, a loud applause sounded—disturbing our moment, and we both slowly pulled away. The crowd’s attention was focused on a man who was standing atop a small stage and giving a speech, but our eyes were still focused on each other.

  “What will it take?” he whispered, looking upset that we’d been interrupted.

  “What will it take for what?”

  “For you to leave with me.”

  “Um…” Butterflies fluttered against my stomach and my heart raced at a completely foreign rhythm. I’d never been instantly attracted to any man I’d met in my life, never felt as if I didn’t need to talk at all, but this man was more than worthy of an exception.

  “Is ‘um’ indicative of a yes?” he asked.

  “No, it’s…Look, I don’t typically do one night stands.”

  “Then we won’t call it a one-night stand.”

  “A night of meaningless sex, then?”

  “A night of fucking,” he said, his voice low. “A night of me owning your pussy on every single surface in my hotel room. If we make it past the alley, that is.”

  I swallowed, knowing that no matter what this man said, I was going home with him.

  “I’ll leave with you,” I said. “You just need to answer a few of my questions so I feel somewhat safe.”

  “Okay, Gillian.” He looked amused. “Ask away.”

  “Can you promise me that you’re not a psycho murderer?”

  “I can promise you that I’m not a murderer.”

  “What about the psycho part?”

  “No comment.”

  I laughed, but something told me he was only halfway joking. “Are you originally from New York?”

  “Yes and no.”

  “Someone named Jake once told me it can’t be both.”

  He let out a low laugh. “My family is originally from New York. I was born in Missouri, but now, unfortunately, I’m back again.”

  “Would you like to explain the unfortunate part?”

  “Not particularly.”

  “What’s your favorite type of woman?”

  “What?” He raised his eyebrow in confusion.

  “You know, blonde, brunette, redhead. Those types.”

  “I’ve never had a type.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because there’s no way for me to tell what a woman’s pussy is like just by looking at the color of the hair on her head.” He ran his fingers through my hair for effect, rendering me temporarily speechless. “I’ve honestly never had a type, Gillian. Are those all of your questions?”

  “No. I have three more.”

  “I’ll answer two more.”

  “Fine,” I said, my body begging me to wrap up this conversation. “How often do you pick up women at parties like this?”

  “Not so often.”

  “But often?”

  “No.” He looked genuine. “Not often at all.”

  “Okay…” I didn’t really have any other questions. “We can leave now.”

  “You’re not going to ask another question?”

  “No, the ‘but often’ one was number two. I know how to count.”

  “Clearly.” He smiled wider than he had all night and pressed his hand at the small of my back, leading me through the crowd and out of the party.

  We stepped onto the elevator, making way for a couple to get off, and the second the doors closed, Jake’s lips were on mine again and my back was pressed against the wall. Never wanting this moment to end, I wrapped my leg around his waist, gasping as I felt his hard cock through his pants, as I felt how huge it was.

  My hands ran through his hair, and his fingers slipped under my dress and beneath the lace line of my soaked panties.

  His fingers quickly pushed the fabric to the side and he whispered, “So fucking wet…”as the elevator continued to fall floor after floor. Slipping two fingers deep inside of me, he breathed against my neck. “My place or yours?”

  “Mine…” I whimpered in pleasure as he withdrew his hand.

  “I don’t think so,” he said as the doors opened on the ground level. He slipped his arm around my waist and led me outside. “I won’t be able to wait that long. I live closer.”

  “Doubt that. I live closer,” I said, opening my clutch to make sure the keycard to 80A was still inside. “We can walk to my place from here.”

  “Even if that’s true, I’d prefer to drive.” He pulled a set of keys out of his pocket and hit the button, causing the bright lights of a black BMW across the street to flash. “How many blocks away is your place?”

  “Four.” I smiled. “Closer than yours, isn’t it
?”

  He didn’t answer. He led me over to his car and opened the door for me. Then he slid behind the driver’s seat and cranked the engine, causing the dashboard to light up in a bright array of blues and whites.

  “Do I need to make a right or a left at the light?” He pulled onto the street and sped away.

  “Right.”

  He stopped at the red light and looked over at me, making me even more anxious. He didn’t say a single word, just simply fucked me with his eyes until the light changed.

  We passed two more blocks and hit another red light.

  “I take it your building is on Park Avenue?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Which one is it?”

  “The Madison.” I pointed at the building as we approached, thanking the universe that the managers were throwing a shareholders’ party tonight. The valet was swarming with vehicles so I wouldn’t have to go through the front door and be questioned by the doorman. “You’ll have to park on the street somewhere. Only guests have parking passes and I’ve already used mine.”

  “Hmmm,” was all he said in response. He drove through the light and made a reckless U-turn, parking on the side of the building. He turned off the car and opened my door.

  “You may want to move your car elsewhere,” I warned as he helped me get out. “The doorman here is really adamant about getting cars towed for people who don’t live here.”

  “I’ll deal with the risk.” He looked at me. “How long have you been living here?”

  “Not long, just a few months.” I started walking toward the side entrance. “I prefer going this way.”

  He followed me and after I placed my employee card against the keypad, he held the door open.

  The lights in my manager’s office were off, and there were no night shift employees walking the hallways. The only noise was the laughter and chatter from the ballroom that was on the other side of the building.

  As we walked to the elevator, Jake’s hand pressed against the small of my back, and my anticipation rose with every step toward the elevators.

  As soon as I hit the up button, the doors opened and we stepped inside together.

  “Wait!” A shrill voice cried. “Hold that elevator, please!”