by Jess Bentley
I shrug. I look away wistfully, letting her think that I'm sorry that our Playboy days are almost behind us now. “You will have to ask him, I’m afraid.”
“Yes,” she says, almost to herself. “I suppose I will have to do that.”
Suddenly, the rotors start up. Though we are outside of the immediate zone of the helicopter, the noise is deafening along with a substantial amount of wind. Melody’s skirt flies open, revealing long, toned legs and very pretty knees that she presses together protectively. For just a moment, a flash of Bella's knees jolts through my brain again. Those creamy thighs. That Chanel.
What is wrong with me?
“I guess that's my cue!” I shout, leaning closer so she can hear me over the sound of the helicopter.
Out of the corner of my eye I see Emmet gesturing wildly over his head. The sun is going down and now is the perfect time for us to start our tour.
“I'm coming with you!” she shouts back, beginning to lean away. I catch her the by the crook of her arm and shake my head, no.
“What? No! Sorry!”
“Yes!” she shouts back, twisting away from me momentarily, then back toward me. She looks up into my eyes again, seriously trying to ignite a connection here. Even if I wanted to, there's nothing there. I’m preoccupied. She’s beautiful, granted, but… nothing is happening.
“I was promised a story!” she reminds me. She's trying to smile, wheedle her way in, but the expression is just a little bit too desperate. “And you don’t want to be a third wheel, do you? Let’s double date, Dillon! Live a little!”
Gently, I pry her fingers off my arm and step away with my palm up, stop. Then I move my lips, saying nothing, hoping she thinks that the helicopter noises are just drowning me out. I've got nothing to say to her, but I salute her with a smile, betting that she'll just go ahead and make up whatever the hell story she wants.
Then I turn my back to her and jog toward the open door of the helicopter, leaping in and sliding it closed behind me. Melody’s expression of disappointment and anger looms as she yanks her skirt down to her knees and slides her sunglasses back down over her nose. She gives us a grudging wave as the helicopter tips forward and lifts straight up off the ground. In seconds, she’s disappeared.
Before I put my headphones on, I turn toward Bella. She's already got the headset on and raises her eyebrows at me questioningly. Without saying a word, I reach out and slide my fingers under her chin, behind her neck, and draw her to me. Her lips are welcoming and pliant, warm and open. She kisses me with a sigh, as if she's been waiting for this as long as I have.
It’s a surprise. A welcome one. After watching her flip through a virtual rolodex of personalities, I wasn’t sure which Bella I was going to get today. But she seems committed to the role now. At least until the merger, I suppose.
Just to test the theory, I kiss her again. Every time our lips meet, I feel an almost electric shock, like a connection. When we separate, I miss it. I have to try again.
As we reach touring altitude, I continue to taste her, sliding my tongue along her teeth, feeling her tongue dance around mine, darting, swirling. I can't believe I waited two days for this. I'm suddenly so hungry for her. My body is taut and humming as though electrified. I feel her fingers slide up my thigh and rest heavily on my hard, pulsing cock.
Then she draws away shyly, blinking and smiling at me. She reaches for the other headset and hands it to me. Disappointed, I fit it over my ears. The cabin is suddenly silent.
“Private channel please, Chad,” I hear Emmet's voice immediately. The pilot flashes us the okay sign and flips a switch over his head. Now only the three of us can talk to and hear each other in the headsets.
“Have you ever fucked in a helicopter before?” I ask immediately, watching her eyes in response. She doesn't even flinch, but goes for a playful squint. She smiles broadly and her tongue presses against her upper teeth in an inviting tease.
“Let's save that for the honeymoon, shall we, boys?” she shoots back, shifting primly in her seat and drawing her skirt slowly but firmly down over her knees. Her fingers press against her thighs protectively, letting me know it will be just a little bit more difficult than that.
“Oh, smooth move, Dillon,” Emmet scoffs.
“What? It’s a fair question! People who have had sex in a helicopter, please raise your hands!”
“You said this was a tour,” she sniffs, looking out the window, leaning over me. I can smell her perfume and see the curve of her breast through the plunging neckline of her wrap dress. She must know she’s doing this to me, right? But it’s impossible to tell. Every time I imagine that I know what she’s thinking, she turns into someone else. A new Bella, every minute.
“So tour me,” she dares me with a grin. So far it looks like I’m getting confident, assertive Bella. She’s hot as hell. I’m happy with that. I would like to take another tour of her body.
“Chad does the tour,” I inform her, clearing my throat, “on this channel, we won't be able to hear him.”
She shrugs, drawing back and looking me right in the eye. As she leans back into her seat, her nipples brush against the front of my shirt, igniting my skin all at once. Fuck.
“Then change the channel back. I want to hear the tour.”
“Then you won’t be able to hear us,” I protest.
She leans very close to me, sticking out just the tip of her tongue and running it over my top lip. It's everything I can do to keep from tearing her clothes off right this minute.
“Then you'll have to keep very quiet,” she whispers, her voice barely coming through the headphones.
Emmet leans forward and catches my eye. He shrugs. “Best to do as she says, I think,” he smiles at me.
Begrudgingly, I lean forward and tap Chad on the shoulder, pointing at the channel switch in the ceiling. He nods his understanding and flips it back on.
“All right, ladies and gentlemen,” comes his voice through the snug earphones. The noise reduction is so good, it sounds like he's whispering right in our ears. “Just sit back and relax. We’re going to cruise up and down the Chicago lakefront, and I'll be pointing out some of the more interesting architectural and historical highlights.”
“That sounds wonderful, Chad,” Bella breathes, as she gazes up into my eyes. A playful smile curls the corners of her full lips as she draws her skirt up, grasping my hand and guiding it between her warm thighs. As soon as I touch the damp crotch of her silky panties, she closes her eyes and tips her head back, succumbing to the roaring vibrations of the helicopter motors.
Confident, assertive Bella for the win.
“Just now we're leaving airspace of Navy Pier. Below us you can see the famous Ferris Wheel. It is a nod to the original Ferris Wheel that was introduced publicly in the world's fair, held here in Chicago in 1893.”
Emmet reaches around and unties the fabric strap at her waist, pulling her dress open to reveal her smooth, curvy form. I slide my fingers under the thin band of elastic at her thigh, finding her already slippery and hot to the touch.
Just as I find her, she reaches out, stroking my cock through my trousers. With my other hand, I free myself and her fingers instantly curl around me, grasping me tightly.
“Lake Shore Drive is famous for its magnificent views, and is commonly referred to as the Magnificent Mile. Many of the apartment buildings that you see here are being converted to condominiums. Just below us, you can see the famous Lincoln Park Zoo, where children and adults have been enjoying such attractions as Farm-in-the-Zoo, where you can watch the baby chickens hatch.”
Just before I close my eyes, I noticed that she's reached out with her other hand to grasp Emmet's cock too. Slowly she begins to stroke us both, pistoning both of our erections simultaneously as my middle finger swoops deeper and deeper against her furrow.
“If you look just over to the left now, you can see the flags atop famous Wrigley Field. They're flying the W. Looks like the Cubs won today.”
“Here's the border of Chicago, folks, and Evanston just beyond. I'm going to do a little bank turn here, get us going back southward again. Hold on, this turn might feel a little steep.”
The helicopter banks hard to the right, thrusting all three of us against the plush bench. It crushes the air from our lungs, leaving us breathless and dizzy. Bella claps her thighs around my hand and arches her back, her mouth open in a silent cry, and suddenly I'm coming too, exploding from within, lost in a volcanic eruption, blinded.
“Thanks for bearing with me, folks,” Chad says in his practiced, smooth way. “Just going to hit the gas here and take us swiftly back toward downtown, check out what the south side is up to right now.”
Slowly I open my eyes, gradually taking in the details. The setting sun, the lights of downtown coming up. The Hancock Building is all alight, and I even make out a few dozen sailboats on the water. It’s a beautiful night, and we hang high above it, breathless and exultant.
We are together, one in pleasure and abundant beauty.
Chapter 32
Emmet
A large crowd gathers behind the velvet rope, milling around and craning their necks to see who's got the firepower to be able to rope off Buckingham Fountain for a private event.
I sort of hear their voices, churning like foamy seawater on the rocks as I walk past, presumably to check on the caterer. But as their cameras snap, dozens at a time, I feel like I've checked something off the list. I should be trending in just a few moments.
I turn my back to the crowd, shifting my weight to one hip and thrusting my hands into my pockets so that they can get a good look at my shoulders under my cotton shirt. They love this, the matinee idol idea. Already I have seen different blogs picking up stories about this romance. There have been recaps of our history of bad behavior, quotes from celebrities with opinions about my character or romance in general. Rundowns of our fashion choices and even a few tutorials on how to get Bella’s “look.” She’s usually compared to Brigitte Bardot or Julia Roberts.
It's a fairytale, just like she said. At first, I didn’t buy it. Who has that kind of willpower, to pretend to be in love just for a job? But she certainly does. Her performances are flawless. When she looks at me, I look deep into her eyes and all I see is the glow of passion. Nothing suspicious underneath. And when we’re alone, she’s someone else yet again, keeping up her end of the bargain with Dillon too. She’s hungrier than I would have expected, for us both.
It must be a hell of a job she’s trying to get. I wonder who had the idea first — Hannah or Bella?
Probably, it was Hannah. She can come up with some very cutthroat schemes when her back is to the wall. And if she’s telling the truth about Google looking down its nose at us, I can see why she would be freaked out.
But really, Hannah and I just don’t see eye to eye. She's been dissatisfied with me for a long time. With both of us. Dillon and I don't satisfy her prudish expectations, I suppose. She looks like the sort of girl who has been cheated on. Damaged goods. Bitter, somehow. Or just tainted. Who knows.
So, maybe it was Hannah’s idea, but Bella is the one who really brings the story to life. Her breathless swooning for the cameras is absolutely genius. Completely believable Cinderella tale. When she looks at me, I almost feel like…
But it’s just a fantasy. In fact, it’s a fantasy that's only got about a week and a half left in it. Shouldn’t get too caught up in the act.
Our car rolls up through the six or so security guards, just as I'm leaving the caterer’s station and walking in front of the white privacy tent. Excellent. Action shots. I hear another fifty cameras go off. I could probably jog over there or something, maybe call her name.
No. Too cartoonish.
But as soon as she emerges from the car, she's in my arms. She almost falls into me, hooking her arms underneath mine, pressing up on those long, beautiful toes to be able to reach me. I let my arms drape over her protectively, plunging my fingers into her hair, practically lifting her off her feet so that can I kiss her in full view of everybody.
Snap. Snap. Snap. I wonder what the hashtags will be?
“They’re loving this,” she murmurs as I set her down gently, batting her eyelashes at me vigorously.
“Well, of course they are. I don't know if we could've gotten a much more perfect spots. Romantic, well lit, and about as public as you can get.”
“Oh, yes, you’re brilliant,” she sighs, and something inside me goes all warm and fire colored. I have to admit, I do like it when she says nice things to me.
The tent flap billows to the side and Dillon steps out, grinning widely. Again all the cameras start snapping and I shake my head, subtly gesturing for him to get back in the tent. He pretends he doesn't understand me and just stands there, beaming at her.
“What do you think you're doing?” I growl at him through clenched teeth when we are within earshot. “You're supposed to stay out of sight.”
“Rob is almost here. I figured you would want to know,” he shrugs, his eyes sweeping over the crowd. He is definitely not being even a little bit discreet.
“Oh, thanks for the heads up,” Bella says sweetly. She brushes her fingertips across my chest, gazing up into my eyes even while she's talking to Dillon. More snapping. “Is this where we’re going to be dining? Away from everybody?”
I hold the tent flap aside for her, allowing us one more moment in profile to gaze at each other for everyone to see before ducking through the opening.
Holding my hands out, I let her look around for a second, take it all in. “It’s nice, isn't it? Wolfgang Puck knows how to do take-out.”
She rolls her eyes at me, throwing a playful glance over her shoulder. “Oh, you're a funny one,” she giggles. “I bet you haven't really had take-out in —”
She stops up short as Wolfgang enters the enclosure, his ruddy cheeks crinkling in mirth.
“Good evening!” he crows in his clipped Germanic accent. He sets the plates down with a flourish on the linen covered tables. “You're expecting one more, ja? Perhaps another lady friend? Or?"
“It’s not what you think,” Dillon huffs as he sits down at the chair at the end. He reaches out to remove the silver cover from the tray and Wolfgang slaps his fingers smartly.
“You must wait!” the chef declares, then plants his feet shoulder width apart and crosses his arms over his barrel chest. He looks like a jolly security guard. Santa on a mission.
Nodding at one of the empty seats, he beckons Bella to sit down. I tug the chair out for her politely and she slides into it, tucking her silk skirt underneath those beautiful round thighs.
“Thank you,” she murmurs politely. She is still gazing up at Wolfgang, obviously a bit starstruck. Part of me is a little jealous that she never looked quite that starstruck over either of us, even though we’re worth at least a hundred times what he is. But still, you can never underestimate the romantic power of a good chef. I’m sure the awe will transfer to us somehow.
I hear the tent enclosure open again behind me and another round of flashes and shutter sounds.
“Well, hi, Rob,” Dillon announces sourly. Bella sneaks a look at me.
“Am I late?” the man huffs, clearly out of breath from his short trip across the compressed gravel in front of the fountain. He waddles over to a chair and stuffs himself into it, probably about two inches too close to the table. With a sweaty smile, he sticks his hand out for Bella to shake.
“Bella Cage,” she nods politely.
“Of course!” he beams. “Rob Meagher, USA Today."
He sticks his hand out for me to shake, then swivels around for Dillon who does it with a slightly sour look on his face. Then he turns towards Chef Wolfgang, but just waves instead.
“Well, this is really an honor!” Rob says breathlessly. “I mean, really an honor. I don't know who I am more pleased to meet!”
“It is an honor to me too as well!” Chef Wolfgang smiles, and he almost sounds like he means it. Then, with a flourish, he removes the tray covers, revealing a baby beet and arugula salad with glistening sauteed scallops.
“Oh, wow,” Bella breathes, inhaling deeply. I see her lick her lower lip in anticipation, and wish we could skip right to dessert. That tongue of hers.
“Wow is right!” Rob repeats.
“I feel like we've had this before,” Dillon sighs.
I shoot him a look, careful not to let Rob see. Dillon is sideways in his chair, rolling a glass of iced bourbon dangerously between his fingers. I didn't see him start drinking it, but it's already almost gone. He's studiously not meeting my eyes and pretending he doesn't know that I know that he's intent on marching up to the line.
“So, I didn't realize we were getting USA Today, today,” I start, hoping to get this interview underway and then over with. “Thanks for stopping by. We just threw this little dinner together, just totally spur the moment…”
“Really?” Bella asks, her eyes wide with corny disbelief. I see Rob nodding with satisfaction. He's loving the Cinderella act.
“Oh, come on, Emmet,” Dillon sneers. “You've pulled this Buckingham Fountain act three or four times already. You should be an expert at it by now.”
Rob pouts. Literally. The corners of his little mouth turn way down, forming parenthetical wrinkles at the bottom like a Disney character.
“Dillon —” I begin, hoping he'll catch my warning tone before I have to actually say something.
“Well I just love it!” Bella interrupts. “It couldn’t be more perfect!” She turns completely toward Rob, letting her knees brush his. I can see that she’s creating a whole new personality, just for him. He flinches back, his eyes going wide. Obviously this guy doesn't get a whole lot of physical contact from the opposite sex.
“You know, I'd always heard the… stories? About the Riordan brothers?” she begins in a conspiratorial whisper. “And I don't know what's happened. I mean, could people just be making this stuff up? Because there is literally nothing like that happening at all.”