by Penny Wylder
“All right,” she says hesitantly. “I guess I should have asked first before booking her on a flight. But you were quite adamant when I spoke to you a couple of days ago. Can I ask what changed?”
“Everything,” I say, and I hang up the phone.
12
Scarlett
I wake up feeling like I’ve slept for days. Chris and I went straight from the airport to drinks with Jason, and we both drank way more than we should have. Followed by Chris attempting to make up for his mistake and the whole misunderstanding by attempting to make me come on his tongue as many times as possible. I stretch slowly, my muscles feeling their overuse last night, but also remarkably relaxed.
I can here that Chris is still asleep beside me, and I turn slowly so I can see him. He’s just as gorgeous in his sleep as he is when he’s staring at me with those blue eyes. In fact, he’s a different kind of beautiful when he’s sleeping. He’s peaceful, his mouth almost smiling. I have a hard time thinking he’d ever be this relaxed while awake. I glance at the clock, and move closer to him. I run my hand across his chest, tracing the line of his pecs and abs, circling his nipple and running my fingers up to his collarbone. He stirs under my fingers, and with a deep inhale he opens his eyes.
“Good morning,” I say, smiling at his disorientation.
“Morning,” he mumbles. “What time is it?”
“Seven forty-five. Unfortunately not enough time for me to take care of that problem you’ve got going on down there if we both want a shower.”
He chuckles, voice still deep and rough with sleep. “I think I’ll survive my morning wood.”
I lean over to him and give him a kiss on the lips. “You never know. I’ve heard that wood can be fatal.” Choosing to let him linger in the bed, I jump up so I can shower first, and I can feel his eyes on my ass. I swing my hips just a little bit more as I slip into the bathroom, and I hear him laugh from the bed.
Almost an hour later we’re both showered and dressed, I’m nursing coffee just wasting time until we have to leave. Chris is down in the executive business center, printing out the paperwork that we need for today. Jason got an email late last night while we were at drinks. Corporate approved of our proposal, and we’re heading to their offices here in the city one more time to have them sign an engagement letter. The more detailed contract will come later. When Chris pops his head back into the room to grab his coat, we both head out on what feels like some kind of symbolic final voyage. The streets on the way to their office are half familiar now that I’ve driven them three times in three days, and I can’t look anywhere in the elevator without making myself blush. Sex in an elevator is not anything I ever thought that I would do.
The three are waiting for us. I finally managed to figure out that they were named James and Elsie. Though I suppose that’s a little too late to be of any use to me. I still file that away for later. If I get the chance to actually work on this account, knowing the names of the regional marketing directors could come in handy.
Jason looks like he suffered a worse hangover than we did. He’s still practically wincing at the sunlight, and I’m glad that Chris and I didn’t go that far.
Everyone shakes everyone’s hands, and Chris gives them the letter to sign—a couple of copies. They have to get their boss’s signature at corporate as well, but these signatures on the engagement letter are enough to get the ball rolling back at the Ellison Media offices. Everything else in the contract still has to be negotiated, but that doesn’t have to be done in person. And just like that, we’re done.
“Pleasure doing business with you,” Jason says to us.
“More like pleasure staring business with you,” Chris says, as he shakes his hand again.
Jason laughs. “I suppose that’s true. Though next time, let’s drink a little less.”
“Agreed,” I say.
And that’s that.
Back at the hotel, we have nothing but time to kill. Our flight isn’t until the morning, and our dinner reservation—yes, Chris is actually taking me to dinner—isn’t for hours. I pull some comfortable clothes out of my suitcase, pulling on the sweats under my skirt and then taking my skirt off. I’m sure as hell not going to stay business casual for a day in a hotel. I’ll get dressed up again later.
“I’m a little sad that this is over,” I say to Chris as I come into the main room.
He frowns. “You don’t think I’m not going to see you in Seattle, right?”
“No, not that. I just mean that we won’t get to work together like this again. It was fun.”
He stands up and is by my side in three steps, sweeping me back into a dip and kissing me. He’s kissing me like the world might end tomorrow, and I don’t think I ever want to be kissed another way again. His tongue tangles with mine, and the way he has of exploring every crevice of my mouth turns me on like nothing I’ve experienced before. “The hell we won’t work together,” he says.
“What?” I ask as he sets me upright.
“I’ve put in a request back at the central office,” he says. “I want you to be transferred to my creative team. I want you to work with me on this campaign and all my campaigns. And when they ask you, you’d better not say no.”
“Say no? Why on earth would I say no.” I jump on him, forcing him to catch me. “That’s amazing, thank you.”
I try to kiss him but he pulls back. “Don’t thank me, you were right all along. You said that I would change my mind about you. You just didn’t know how much I would change my mind.”
“Maybe we should try terrible ideas more often,” I say.
He nods, carrying me over to the bed. “Yes. It has seemed to work out pretty well.” He sets me down, inspecting me. “I see that you changed your clothes. But the problem is that you still have way too many of them on.”
I raise an eyebrow at him. “Is that so.”
“It is,” he says, his eyes going dark. “I have plans for you this afternoon, and none of them involve clothes.”
I peel my t-shirt off over my head, and I watch his eyes devour me. I let the shirt fall to the floor, and then the bra. Chris reaches out, taking one of my breasts in his hand, rolling it in his palm, playing with the nipple. I close my eyes, and let the sensations echo through me, racing all the way down to my pussy where I’m already growing wet with anticipation. “I’m never going to get tired of these,” he says, squeezing my breast. “In fact, I remember saying that I wanted to fuck them.”
My heart kicks up a notch, and I watch as he slowly strips down in front of me. He reveals his delicious body piece by piece, and I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of looking at it. He sheds his pants, and his cock is already hard. I’ve not had the chance to examine it in detail over the last few days, but as far as dicks go, it’s pretty freaking gorgeous. Made even more so because I know exactly how it can drive my body mad. I slip off my pants as Chris disappears into the bathroom, reappearing with on of the hotels tiny complimentary bottles—hand lotion.
He hands me the bottle. “Put this on your breasts.” His tone leaves no room for argument.
I’ve never done this before, but like some of the other things I’ve done these past few days, the idea piques my curiosity. I tap a bit of lotion into my hand spreading it across my chest and down across my breasts. “Don’t rub it in,” Chris says. He’s watching me with avid eyes, his hand already stroking his cock. I repeat the process painting my breasts white with lotion while he watches. I move back on the bed, lying down, and Chris follows me. He over me, knees on either side of my ribs and his sheer size is intimidating. He’s towering over me, and he looks powerful. Strong. His cock is pointed at my mouth, and I open it. I suck the tip of him in, watching him close his eyes to savor the sensation. Then he reaches down, pushing my breasts together with his hands, slipping his cock in between them.
The sensation is entirely alien, slick and smooth and strange. Chris lets out a groan as he pushes his cock in-between my breasts, slowly at first.
I reach up, replacing his hand pressing my breasts together. I press them tighter, making him work for every stroke. He holds onto the headboard, moving his hips faster, thrusting harder. Seeing the way he’s reacting, making small sounds of pleasure as he thrusts, turns me on, and I rub my legs together, hoping for a tiny relief to the pressure building down in my core.
Chris moves faster as he fucks my breasts, suddenly letting go of any hesitation he had. He curses, and I press harder on his cock. I move my own breasts up and down as he moves, against me, creating friction and heat between our skin. His mouth is open as he moves, totally lost in the feeling, and seeing him that way is really fucking hot. His rhythm starts to falter, and I realize that he’s close. He pushes is cock all the way though the channel, the tip of it nearly touching my chin when he spills over. He groans loudly, his cum spurting hot and fast over my breasts. He thrusts again, and with each thrust, there’s more heat.
He comes back to himself slowly, looking down at me with a haze of lust in his eyes. “Holy fuck that was hot,” he says, and I nod. Because it was, and now my body is dying for his attention. Chris disappears into the bathroom again and reappears with a damp washcloth. Slowly, carefully, he cleans me up. My skin heats under his touch, and by the time he’s finished wiping my breasts, I’m practically clawing at him. He tosses the cloth all the way to the bathroom, diving down onto the bed with me. With an ease that still marvels me, he pulls me on top of him, twisting and lifting our position of a few minutes ago so we’re reversed. This time I’m on top, and I’m dangerously close to his delicious mouth.
“I like this view,” he says, gazing up my body and past my breasts to my face. “I think I’ll have to see this view more often.”
His tongue darts out of his mouth, briefly touching my clit and waking up my nerves, and I gasp. “I don’t think I would have a problem with that.”
“I didn’t think you would.” His laughter booms in his chest and vibrates through my entire body.
Chris uses his mouth deliberately, taking his time exploring my pussy. His tongue teases my entrance, circling it and darting inside, only to dart out again and around. He places kisses on my clit, sucking briefly, before letting me go again. I’ve already figured out that he enjoys working me up with random patterns, so I don’t try to figure out where he’s going to touch me next. I do just as he did, reaching out to grab the headboard and let him do his work. He circles my clit with his tongue, sending shuddering waves of pleasure along my spine and causing my hips to buck against his face. He doesn’t seem to mind though, it actually seems to make him work harder.
His hands slide up my legs to grip my hips, and he presses his tongue deep inside my pussy. With long, sweeping strokes, he licks me from the inside out, and my wetness increases because it feels fucking incredible. My hips start to move and he guides me with his hands, encouraging me to go faster, harder. I press down, and he presses back, and now I’m riding his tongue. Having his tongue this far inside me feels unbearably intimate, and also exactly right. The swirling motion of it is waking up nerves that I never even knew I had. He moves his mouth to my clit, sucking me deep, but I can’t stop the motion of my hips, and he uses it to his advantage. Each time I pull away, his mouth pulls on me, and my clit feels deliciously stretched, only to be engulfed in the heat of his mouth again. Chris is using his tongue to stroke the underside with perfect consistency, and I can feel my orgasm building right behind my clit.
I’m breathing hard, my voice coming out in one long moan, and oh god that feels so good and I can’t stop, please Chris, don’t stop. I’m so close to coming, and Chris digs his fingers into my hips, forcing me to be suddenly still, and pulling me harder onto his mouth. He works me steadily with his lips and tongue, and my knuckles are white on the headboard because I’m so close, and sweet god—
Chris grazes his teeth over my clit, and it sends me over. I scream Chris’s name, my pussy flooding his mouth with my cum. My hips are moving again, desperately trying to get every ounce of pleasure from his mouth. My muscles are limp with it, totally sated.
He lets me down onto the bed, where he holds me as I recover. “Shit,” I manage to say, and he laughs. I’ve never experienced the kind of chemistry we have, and I’m so glad that he needed to blow off steam. If he hadn’t, we might still be in separate rooms glowering at each other through the walls. “So, Mr. Flintlock,” I say, checking the time and seeing that we still have all afternoon before we have to be anywhere. “Do you have any more terrible ideas?”
He gives me that wicked smile, rolling over and pinning me to the bed with his body. “Oh, so many, Ms. Brown.”
Epilogue
Chris
One Year Later
Mid-Air, Seattle to New York
When the seatbelt sign turns off, Scarlett’s eyes are closed. But I know she’s not sleeping. Not yet anyway. I have to make my move before she is. I lean over close to her and whisper to her. “It’s time.”
She opens an eye, glancing at me, and then rolls her eyes. “Chris, we don’t have to join the mile-high club every time we fly.”
I happen to disagree with her, but that’s not going to get me what I want. “Not every time,” I say. “Just this time. It’s our flight.”
“Seattle to New York?” She shakes her head. We first did that on the reverse trip.
“Still,” I say, “It’s kind of a tradition.” I grab her hand, placing it in my lap, under one of my work binders, where I’m trying to hide a hard-on that’s been killing me for the past hour.
Scarlett starts to laugh, “Oh my god, you’re not joking.”
“I never joke about fucking you,” I whisper, and I see her shiver. “Now get up and go to the bathroom. I’ll be there in a minute.”
She looks at me, gauging how serious I am, before she unbuckles her seatbelt and makes her way up to the first class bathroom. I wait two minutes before I make my day to join her. It’s entirely likely that the crew is going to know, and possibly the rest of first class. I don’t particularly care. If I had it my way, I’d have Scarlett screaming loudly enough for the whole plane to hear she’s mine. But my girl isn’t a fan of showing off, and so I try to do my best to blend in.
That’s pretty hard to do on a plane.
I knock softly on the door, and Scarlett opens it. I squeeze inside as quickly as I can, hoping that none of the crew notice. Scarlett’s face is flushed, her breathing quick as I lock the door. Even though she protests, the risk of being caught turns her on, and I know that. Every time we fuck in a plane she comes so hard I think she’s going to pass out. Gripping her hips and pulling her towards me, I kiss her. “We had to leave so early this morning, I didn’t get my taste of you,” I say. “And I’m craving it.”
“Come and get it then,” she says, and I unbutton her jeans, slipping my hand down into her panties to find her soaked. “God, Scarlett. I love you.”
He body reacts to my fingers, arching and stretching. “I know,” she says.
What she doesn’t know though is that this is more than an old tradition. I wanted to make this a new tradition before I present her with the engagement ring in my pocket at our favorite New York restaurant. Our plane experiences from New York to Seattle will celebrate the time we met, and from Seattle to New York we’ll celebrate—hopefully—the trip where we got engaged. Given how often we fly to New York, we’re going to be a flight crew’s worst nightmare.
I peel her jeans down to her knees and she helps me undo my belt. In the close quarters of the plan bathroom, we have to help each other, given that there’s no other place to go. She releases my cock from my underwear, and strokes it in the way she knows drives me straight to the edge. I make a warning sound, and she chuckles. I don’t want to come before I’m even inside her. I turn Scarlett around. I press the head of my cock against her entrance and slip inside. It feels just as much like coming home as the first time I fucked her, only it’s so much better now. We stopped using condoms a few months ago, and ev
ery time I enter her it still feels like a revelation. She’s so wet, and I can feel her leaking onto my skin.
I bend her over the sink as far as the space allows, thrusting deep. Scarlett stifles a moan, and the sound makes me harder. I’ll never get enough of the way she makes me feel—powerful and wild and strong. The thought spurs me on, and I start to fuck her the way I know she likes the best: fast and unrelenting, as deep as I can manage. Her breath is coming in short gasps, and I know that she’s trying to contain herself, to keep from giving us away with her moans. The reflection in the mirror shows me that she’s biting her lip, and I love the way it looks.
Working one hand into her hair, I guide her head up to look up at the mirror, locking eyes with her through the reflection. With my other hand I reach around to her clit, circling it with my thumb, knowing that’s her favorite motion. I love it when her body to starts to shake around me, driven to the height of pleasure because of what I’m doing to her. It doesn’t take long. With a smothered moan, Scarlett’s body goes taut, and I feel her pussy spasm around me, her juices running down my cock. She closes her eyes, basking in her orgasm, and I continue to fuck her.
I’m enjoying the feeling of her skin, the knowledge that even after a year I know exactly what to do to make her come apart. Pulling her ass tighter against me, I feel my orgasm rise. My balls tighten, and that sheer pleasure ruptures out of me as I come. I groan into her shoulder, feeling my cock spill deep inside of her. I grab her hips, yanking her back onto my cock, grinding into her, reminding her how deeply I can feel her up, and how deeply she’s mine.
We breathe together, leaning against the other for support for a moment before we remember that we’re at cruising altitude and soon people will notice. I clean myself up quickly and head out first, sliding into my seat without any trouble. But when Scarlett comes down the aisle a few minutes later, there’s more than a few heads that turn towards her. She blushes as she takes her seat. “I guess we weren’t subtle enough.”