Cocktales

by The Cocky Collective

He rose to his full height and offered me his good hand. “Come on, I’ll clear out the mini bar and play bartender in the terminal.”

  The image of my man serving up drinks while wearing nothing but a bowtie popped into my head. His chiseled pecs and sculpted abs traveling down to the delicious V that drove me wild.

  He pulled me to my feet, and I purposely stumbled forward, landing hard against his chest.

  “Hey! Easy there, tiger. You already drunk?” he teased, steadying us both.

  Trailing my finger across his chest, I inched my way around the planes small interior until I was standing behind him. At six two, Evan was a few inches taller than me. But when he was bent over a seat, his tight ass up in the air, that wasn’t the size that mattered.

  Pressing up on my toes, I nipped at his ear. “You know what sounds more relaxing than a drink?”

  “Oh, fuck.” He moaned as his head lulled to the side to allow me more access.

  I laved my tongue up the side of his neck. “Yes. Exactly that.”

  “Henry,” he murmured, reaching over his shoulder to palm the back of my head. “Baby. We can’t.”

  I rolled my hips, my thickening cock seeking its way home. “Oh, but we can, Evan.” I purred his name just the way he liked. “Last I checked, I own this plan, which means I’m bound by legal obligation to fuck you on every surface.”

  “I’m not sure that’s a legal obligation.” He arched his back, circling his ass against my length unfortunately still hidden beneath the denim.

  We both groaned at the friction.

  “You want to break out a magnifying glass to read the fine print or”—I glided a hand around his trim waist, popped the button on his jeans, and drove a hand inside—“do want to drop your pants and let me fuck you.”

  “Jesus, Henry.” He moaned again as I started working his shaft. “Baby . . .” He leaned back against my chest. “We can’t… Fuuuck.” He slapped his good hand down on the leather seat beside us for balance. “Henry, wait. ” It was safe to assume I did not wait. He had this nasty little habit of putting the brakes on sex, using some ridiculous excuses like, “The priest might see us,” or, “The paparazzi is outside our window.”

  Using his casted hand, he grabbed my wrist. “Henry, stop. There’s another plane going out soon, so we need to hurry up and move off the tarmac.”

  “Then I suggest you hurry up and get naked.”

  Suddenly, he turned in my arms, forcing my hand to slide out of his pants or risk injuring us both. I could deal with him only having one hand for the next few weeks, but if any harm came to the real Captain Roth, we were going to be in some serious trouble.

  He palmed the side of my face, his blue eyes boring into mine as his unbelievably expert mouth tipped up at the corners. “Relax, babe.”

  I rolled my eyes. “That’s what I was trying to do until someone, who shall remain nameless . . . cough you . . . decided to cock block me.”

  His lips came to mine in a deep and dizzying fashion.

  I reached around and grabbed his ass—strictly for balance, of course. “Cock blocking hurts us both, ya know?”

  Smiling, he opened his mouth, the tip of his tongue sneaking out like the welcoming committee. In the grand scheme of things, Evan and I hadn’t been together long. Our time measured in months rather than decades. But morning, noon, and night, I took his mouth every chance he gave me, and each and every time, it set me ablaze.

  I threaded my fingers into the dark hairs at the nape of his neck, slanting my head to take our kiss deeper. And he gave, because that what was Evan did. He was a real humanitarian if you asked me.

  All too soon, his mouth was gone. “I know what you’re trying to do. Sex as a distraction because you’re freaking out about the flight. But you don’t need worry. You know I won’t let anything happen to you.” He winked. “King Kong always takes care of his lady, remember?”

  “Does that include a blow job in whatever empty room we can find?”

  He started to shake his head, but I kissed him again, mumbling against his mouth, “Come on . . . say yes. It’s a private airport. There’s got to be a secluded little spot somewhere.”

  And even though Evan was slightly more reserved about when and where he cashed in the multitude of perks that came with being in love, he smiled and replied, “You offering or asking?”

  Two

  Henry

  When we got off the plane, I made a beeline into the airport searching for any space that my sexy-as-sin a lover could possibly construe as private.

  Places I’d come up with: Nofuckingwhere.

  The bathroom was crazy nice but also crazy public so there wasn’t a deadbolt on the door, just the keyed door handle. However, like a sexual terrorist, Evan refused to allow me to call a locksmith.

  Then the single solitary office I could find was locked—again, no keys. I considered breaking the window and just paying to have it fixed later, but a shattered window seemed counterproductive to privacy. Also, destruction of federal property was likely frowned upon.

  And for some damn reason, Evan shot down my suggestion of hanging up our shirts to make a curtain under the table that held the coffee and various accouterments. My man had no sense of adventure.

  Eventually, I was forced to give up and face reality. I was going to die with blue balls.

  I was standing by the window, staring out at the empty runway, when I felt Evan sidle up beside me.

  “You still freaking out?” he asked, extending a no doubt expertly made gin and tonic in my direction.

  “Well,” I let out a deep breath as I took the drink from his hand, “my nerves are shot and my mind is spinning in a million directions, most of which end with me in a fiery grave. But, to answer your question, no, I am no longer freaking out. I have officially accepted my untimely demise and an afterlife in sexual purgatory.”

  He chuckled, throwing an arm around my shoulders and curling me into his front. “You are quite possibly the most dramatic man I have ever met.”

  Mumbling into his chest, I replied, “I’ve heard Styles is worse.”

  “Good to know. If you two ever end up on a tour together, I’ll be sure to catch the Bubonic plague or something.” He gave me a tight squeeze. “I hate it when you’re scared. What can I do to help you through this?”

  Guilt soured my stomach. “Stop being such a good guy, you’re making me feel guilty.”

  “Then this is about to get a lot worse for you.”

  “Fantastic,” I murmured, inching deeper into the curve of his muscular body, careful not to spill my drink.

  His lips came to my ear, his smooth, clean-shaven jaw scrubbing with mine. “Do you remember the day we met?”

  I smiled at the memory. “How could I forget, Maverick? I called you the Doogie Howser of pilots.”

  “Yeah, you did,” he murmured, his voice thick with amusement . . . and something else.

  I leaned away to try to get a read on him, but I was in no way ready for what I found.

  He was smiling, but his eyes were sparkling with emotion, and his brows drawn together as though he were anxious.

  It set me on edge immediately. “What’s wrong?”

  “Shhh.” He kissed me chastely. “No talking. Just listen. Yeah?”

  “Evan, I—”

  “Shut it, Henry. You can be as dramatic as you’d like in just a few minutes.”

  I clamped my mouth shut.

  He took the untouched drink from my hand and set it on the edge of the window.

  “The day I met you, my life changed forever. And not because the paparazzi now know everything about me down to my shoe size, but because a gorgeous, sexy man entered my life and taught me what it means to feel loved. Before you, I wasn’t sure where I belonged in the world. I was bouncing from one relationship to the next, trying to find that elusive happily ever after, all the while continuing to build my skillfully crafted walls. And then I met you. The cocky celebrity with more money than sense, who bull
dozed into my life, stripped me bare, and then showed me where I truly belonged.” With shaking hands, he palmed either side of my face and kissed me.

  Hard and promising.

  Deep and lingering.

  Raw and exposed.

  Evan.

  “Baby, I—”

  “Shh. Let me finish.”

  I nodded, biting my bottom lip. The whole no talking thing wasn’t my forte.

  “Henry, you are a diva who would make Mariah proud. But beneath the dramatics and,” he paused to smile, his cheeks pinking adorably as he whispered, “salacious sexual appetite, there’s more to you than anyone could ever know. You have such a tender soul. And your heart? God, you have an amazing heart. When you love, it’s utterly and completely consuming. As someone who has been lucky enough to be on the receiving end of that love, I can testify that it’s the most beautiful feeling in the world.”

  Confused but undeniably touched, I glanced around the room to see who was watching us. I found Sam holding up his cell phone as though he were recording us, and Levee sitting in a chair, twin rivers rolling down her face and over her gigantic smile.

  What? I mouthed to her.

  She pursed her lips and jutted her chin back to Evan, mouthing back, Pay attention.

  As if on cue, Evan went back to talking. “I didn’t want to do this here. I was going to wait until we got to North Carolina. Take you somewhere special and romantic. But, baby, if you need a distraction to get on this flight, I don’t want it to be a quickie or a bottle of gin. I want it to be my promise to love you for the rest of your life and my ring on your finger.” Releasing me, he shoved his hand into the pocket of his jeans, retrieving a platinum band that was encrusted with diamonds.

  My heart seized. “Oh my God—” I choked on the words as tears welled in my eyes. “What are you doing right now?” I sucked in a ragged breath and repeated, “What are you doing?”

  “There is nothing in this world I don’t want to give you, Henry. Body, heart, soul. Forever. You are my exception. You are my reason.” His voice cracked as he dropped to a knee. “Now, tell me you’ll be my husband.”

  I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t see around the tears flooding my eyes.

  But I didn’t need to.

  Who needed air when you had the most incredible man offering you forever?

  Who needed words when every dream you’d ever had was suddenly coming true?

  Who needed vision when . . . okay, I take back that last one. I absolutely needed to see his handsome face.

  Dropping to my knees, I took his hands in mine and brought them to my mouth, kissing each and every one of his fingers. “I never thought I’d find you. All twenty-one years of my life—” Levee barked a laugh, and I paused to level her with a glare. She threw her hands up in surrender and then blew me a kiss. I turned my attention back to Evan. “As I was saying, I never thought I would find someone to embrace my madness the way you have. You deserve so much better than me, Evan Roth. So, so much better. But I am just selfish enough to keep you for the rest of my life. I would be beyond honored to be your husband. And to call you my own.”

  His gorgeous face lit and less than a second later, his mouth was on mine.

  Cheers from Levee and Sam rang out in the room, followed by a loud cry from baby Bridget.

  I’d spent so much of my life worrying about the spiral down.

  Personally.

  Professionally.

  Literally from the inside of a plane.

  But as he slid that ring on my trembling finger, I realized that there was nothing to fear.

  Because, no matter what, Evan and I were going down together.

  “I can’t believe you just did that,” I murmured between kisses. “You know what this means, right?”

  He grinned, pulling me up with him as he stood. “That you’re stuck with me for the rest of your life?”

  I circled my arms around his neck. “Well that, and that you will literally do anything to avoid public sex.”

  He threw his head back and laughed, loud and long. I drank him in, knowing I’d never get enough.

  When he finally sobered, he quirked an eyebrow and once again dug into his pocket, revealing yet another surprise.

  My mouth went dry and my body came alive like a power grid.

  A set of keys dangled off his finger.

  “Oh, did I leave the part out where I found these?”

  Ten minutes later . . .

  “Fuck, baby,” I cried out. My chest was pinned almost painfully to the bathroom door. Evan’s rock hard body was behind me, his hips driving his length inside me.

  All I could say was: God. Bless. Pocket-sized lube.

  Discover more books by Aly Martinez at www.AlyMartinez.com

  or sign up for her newsletter at http://bit.ly/AlyNewsletter

  The Fall Up: http://bit.ly/TFUCocky

  The Spiral Down: http://bit.ly/TSDCocky

  About the Author

  Born and raised in Savannah, Georgia, USA TODAY bestselling author Aly Martinez currently living in South Carolina with her husband and four young children. She passes what little free time she has reading anything and everything she can get her hands on, preferably with a glass of wine at her side.

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  Also by Aly Martinez

  Wrecked and Ruined Series

  Changing Course

  Stolen Course

  Among The Echoes

  Broken Course

  * * *

  On The Ropes Series

  Fighting Silence

  Fighting Shadows

  Fighting Solitude

  * * *

  Standalones

  The Fall Up

  The Spiral Down

  * * *

  The Retrieval Duet

  Retrieval

  Transfer

  * * *

  The Darkest Sunrise Duet

  The Darkest Sunrise

  The Brightest Sunset

  Guardian Protection Series

  Singe

  Thrive

  Cocksure Co-Star

  Kayti McGee

  He's cocky as hell. He's gorgeous as sin. I love his body and hate his guts-- heaven help me get through this movie with him as my co-star.

  Copyright © 2018 by Kayti McGee

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  One

  Jaya

  I’m at least seventy percent certain the director of this movie is banging his assistant. They are the very definition of the chemistry everyone looks for when they cast co-stars.

  In the immortal words of #teamjen, I’m very happy for them, and not at all jealous.

  Just look at the way his gaze lingers on her. It’s so heartwarming that it really doesn’t matter that I can’t remember the last time someone liked at me that way.

  “I walked in on them banging earlier. She was calling him daddy. It was pretty hot,” comes a voice in my ear. Daddy? Gross. I turn around to see who disagrees with me and there he is.

  Huck Ivanson.

  All six foot something, blonde haired, blue eyed, Emmy-winning Viking god Huck Ivanson.

  Hot mess, tabloid fodder, arrogant Huck Ivanson.

  The guy who, just last week, told a national gentleman’s magazine that social media was ruining Hollywood by allowing untalented upstarts like Jaya Brazill to act.

  I was not informed he was who I’m screen-testing with today.

  Me, the aforementioned Jaya Brazill.

  “That’s how us untalented upstarts get jobs, you know,” I tell that cocky jerk with the sweetest smile I can muster.

  “In which case, kiddo,” I br
istle and he smiles even wider, “I’ll be looking forward to hearing you call me daddy soon.”

  My jaw drops open and I take a step toward his broad chest.

  “I would sooner choke.” The smile never leaves my face, but I can feel my eyes narrow so he knows I’m not kidding. I will never, ever sleep with this cocksure snob.

  Even if he is even hotter in person.

  “You might. I’m pretty proportional.” He winks. Winks. As if I would ever even consider—

  Oops. I looked. I didn’t mean to look. But he mentioned it and I couldn’t help myself. And now I can’t look away, because I think he’s actually enjoying this conversation, if you know what I mean.

  Like, for all his badmouthing me, he seems pretty happy to see me just now.

  I think he is proportional, and I am sort of choking already.

  On my anger.

  “Like what you see?” he asks me.

  “I’m just curious. What’s happening here?”

  “Oh, I think you know what’s happening. And what could happen as a result, in the bathroom down the hall after we nail this screen test.” He moves even closer in, using his body to overwhelm my senses with all those muscles filling out his shirt, that cologne that smells like juniper and leather, the rumble in his throat that becomes a low chuckle at his own cleverness.

  “Oh, you misunderstand me,” I tell him, not backing down an inch. “I was wondering if you talked shit on me because you pretty clearly have a big crush? Or if you just get off on having women put you down, because I think you can pay people to do that and leave your colleagues out of it.”

  He blinks.

  But it doesn’t stop him for long.

  “If you like to get paid for it… well, that’s a new kink for me, but I’ve got lots of money, kiddo. Name your price.”