One Flight Stand: A Bad Boy's Baby Romance

by Kim Linwood

  4

  Andrea

  Not exactly the world’s most romantic setting. This might be way bigger than the ones in economy, but it’s still an airplane bathroom. Harsh yellow lights, lots of space age looking plastic, and faux marble on the floor. The rush of air and the rumble of the engines nearly drowns out all the little fears piling up in my mind.

  Nearly.

  I put my hand on the latch. This is it, but I can still chicken out. All I have to do is walk back out and sit down. Two quick raps on the door freeze me in place. Three more follow.

  It’s him.

  I quickly pull the bolt and the door folds in letting Montana slip inside. Instantly, the already small space feel way smaller.

  “Hey,” I whisper.

  “Hey,” he rumbles back down at me with a wry smile. “Nervous?”

  I let out a huge burst of air that I’ve been holding in and nod. “Like crazy. I don’t know if I can—”

  “C’mere,” he says quietly, sitting down on a little vinyl covered ledge opposite the sink that’s probably meant to be the “lounge”. He reaches out and pulls me into his lap.

  The first thing I notice is how nice it feels in his arms.

  The second is a distinct hardness under my ass that shows exactly how glad he is to see me.

  Woah.

  He kisses me softly, running his hand through my hair and down my back. I squirm, anxiety taking a backseat to my libido. His legs are solid and muscular beneath mine, the smooth material of his slacks pressed against my bare thighs. My fingers trace the edge of his belt and tug at his shirt.

  Our kiss tastes like danger, spiced with the sweetness of the frosting we had with dessert. He pulls away and I lean in to get more, but Montana twists me around on his lap so I’m facing the mirror.

  “Fuck, you look beautiful,” he whispers hotly into my ear.

  The couple in the mirror looks reckless and sexy together. We both have naturally warm complexions, and dark, striking hair. Like a hot magazine ad.

  I can’t tear my eyes away from our reflection. Feeling daring, I slowly grind over him in an erotic mid-Atlantic lap dance, and the woman in the mirror matches my movements.

  His expression heats as he watches me in the mirror like I’m some sort of goddess. It feels incredible to have the attention of such a powerful looking man. In comparison, my last boyfriend seems like exactly that, a boy. There’s nothing boyish about Montana.

  A groan rumbles through his chest as I run my nails up his legs, brushing over the sizable length under his zipper. He squirms underneath me as his hands run up my sides. The sight of him getting worked up gives me confidence, and I grind harder.

  “Watch it, sexy.” He laughs quietly. “We’ve gotta be quick, but not quite that quick.”

  My hand goes between my legs and I lift the hem of my skirt. “The longer we’re in here, the greater the chances of getting caught.” Our eyes meet in the mirror. “And I want you in me.”

  He surges to his feet, pushing me ahead of him until I’m braced against the sink. From my reflection I look fully clothed, but all it takes is a flip of my skirt and all of me is exposed to him. His belt clinks, followed by the sound of him opening his pants. A rush of heat floods straight to my sex.

  The warmth of his thick cock slides between my thighs. He teases me, nudging my folds, making me shudder and press back against him for more.

  A brief moment of clarity hits me. “Wait, I’m not on the—”

  He pulls out a foil packet and rips it open. “Covered. Literally.”

  I'm ready.

  God, I'm so ready.

  Finally, the smooth head of his cock touches me right where I need it. I moan, pushing backwards just as he thrusts. He drives deep, pushing me forwards. My hands clutch the edge of the counter, and the roar of the engines isn’t enough to cover up the deep, satisfied groan that escapes my throat.

  He’s so thick it straddles the line between uncomfortable and amazing. It’s a good thing I was so ready for him.

  Montana’s hands move under my dress, pushing it up as he goes to cup my breasts. The sight in the mirror is obscene. My eyes are wide, and my lips parted as he slides into me. With my dress pushed up, it’s completely obvious what we’re up to.

  “Harder,” I mouth at him in the mirror.

  He licks his lips and his hands move from my breasts to around my waist. I close my eyes and moan as he pulls us apart and then roughly fills me again, taking my breath away.

  A one flight stand?

  I can’t believe I’m doing this, and I can’t believe I’m loving it.

  I’m usually a fourth date kind of girl, at least. Okay, maybe third if I really like him. I’m not the ‘drop your panties’ at a wink type. Then again, if it’s as fun as this, maybe I should be.

  But I think it’s him, not the setting. Our chemistry had me hooked right from the start. Nobody’s ever driven me crazy like this before.

  “Shh,” he hisses into my ear. “As much as I want to hear you scream for me, you might want to keep it quiet.”

  I snap my mouth shut. Was I being loud? Shit.

  His hand finds the snap on my bra. It goes slack, and he traps my nipple between rough, calloused fingers. The sudden jolt of pleasure makes my back arch, thrusting me back to meet his strokes.

  A groan threatens to erupt from my throat, but I swallow it down. At this rate, there’s no way I’m going to be able to stay quiet. A burst of pleasure mixed with pain shoots straight into my core, forcing me to bite my lip and pinch my eyes shut in frustration. I want to scream out, but I can’t.

  His other hand slides down around my hip to settle right over my mound. A finger strokes downward, teasing my sensitive nub. With a hand at my breast, and a hard cock stroking me from the inside, I lose the fight and moan.

  If I come now, we might as well set off the fire alarm.

  “Naughty girl, you just can’t stop yourself, can you?” Montana growls.

  He releases my breast and clamps his hand over my mouth, muffling my moans while he pounds me hard and flicks his fingers quickly over my clit. It’s raw and amazing, my feet nearly lifted off the floor with each powerful stroke.

  Gasping and moaning into his palm, I give back as good as I’m getting, fucking him hard as my climax builds.

  With the mirror right in front of me, it’s impossible to not stare as my breasts sway and bounce. I’m nearly naked aside from my dress which is up around my shoulders like a scarf, but he’s still fully clothed, and the contrast is seriously sexy. When I come, even his hand doesn’t cover up the primal keening cry that I can’t hold back. My body locks around him until he can barely move, just shallowly thrusting as I ride it out with him inside.

  He gives me a moment to recover, then presses a finger against my lips. I suck it into my mouth, licking his salty skin as he grips my hip and really lets loose.

  I’m so swollen and sensitive that every thrust feels amazing. A tiny part of me wonders how much better it would be without the condom, if I could feel every ridge and flare. I suck Montana’s finger deep into my mouth and he groans behind me. His cock swells, filling every inch of me until he gasps out a muffled “Fuck” and buries himself to the hilt, twitching deep inside as his own climax takes him.

  A knock at the door jolts both of us into panicked motion. “Is everything alright?” a female voice asks.

  “Ye—”

  “Sure—”

  We both start at once, then stop. I nod quickly to indicate he should go.

  He clears his throat. “Everything’s fine. Is there a problem?”

  “No, sorry… I just thought—” The woman sounds both suspicious and embarrassed. I wonder if she drew the short straw to come check on what was going on.

  “All fine in here,” Montana interrupts. “Just need a little time to… let things settle, if you know what I mean.”

  Oh God. I bite my lip to keep from laughing.

  “I… yes, Sir. I'm sorry for dist
urbing.”

  We look at each other in the mirror and nearly lose it, but somehow manage to disentangle ourselves and straighten up while keeping quiet. We don’t want to announce our tryst to the rest of first class. He disposes of the evidence as I run a wet paper towel over my neck.

  A couple minutes ago we were fucking like bunnies, but now the silence is awkward. The walls feel like they’re closing in on me. It was fun while it lasted, but now that I’m coming down from whatever it was that got into me, I just want to get back to my seat.

  “I'll try to slip out, okay?” Montana murmurs. “If anyone's watching, I'll tap the wall and you can wait a little longer.”

  That’s his plan to save my reputation? Just like a typical man, he seems unconcerned with someone finding out he got laid, but I obviously didn’t think this thing through enough. “Fine, get going before she comes back with air freshener and a mop.”

  “No problem, I won’t be the last one out anyway.” He winks.

  Oh, for fucks sake. I should’ve left him in economy.

  5

  Montana

  “You sleeping?” I trace a finger over Andrea’s shoulder but get no response.

  Her face is to the window, so I can’t really tell, but she’s been quiet since coming back from our… encounter in the bathroom.

  Embarrassed? Don’t know why. It was fucking amazing.

  I knew from the moment I kissed her in the airport that she would be. I just never thought I’d get to find out. She sure as shit wasn’t faking it. Not with as much noise as she was making. Fuck, we were nearly busted.

  Totally fucking worth it.

  Maybe the good girl is having second thoughts now that I’ve scratched her bad girl itch. Wham, bam, thank you man. I sigh and tug her blanket higher so it covers her arm. I should be okay with that. It’s not like we’ll see each other again.

  I just can’t help missing the easy rapport we had earlier and wishing I could hang onto it for the few hours we have left. The blanket slips and I go to move it again but she slaps at my hand.

  Not asleep then.

  “Are you alright?” I feel like a chick, pestering her when I should just lean back and appreciate that she isn’t going all instant girlfriend on me.

  “I’m sleeping.”

  “Pretty active sleep.”

  She sighs and turns to face me, looking up with eyes that are both beautiful, and a little annoyed. It’s cute. “Look, what we did was…”

  “Incredible?”

  Her olive skin turns dusky rose. “Okay, yeah but…”

  “Much better than the usual in-flight entertainment options?” I tease, wanting to see her smile.

  She rolls her eyes. “I happen to like Mahjong solitaire.”

  “Really?”

  “No, not really, but it’s better than Sudoku.” Finally she smiles, and something loosens inside me.

  “Look…” Fuck, I’m not good at this. “You want to exchange numbers? I know you’re going back to school, but maybe next time you’re in Chicago—”

  “No,” she cuts me off fast. “It’s not you or anything, but my life is kinda crazy right now. I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  I nod. It’s a bullshit excuse, but I tried and I’m not going to beg. I’m apparently not good enough for Ms. First Class.

  Andrea doesn’t look happy, but she also doesn’t seem to be changing her mind. She opens her mouth like she wants to say something, but turns away and settles back against the window to sleep. Or at least pretend.

  I study her back, letting my eyes trace over the smooth hourglass shape hidden by the thin airline blanket. Her hair is down, in soft waves over her shoulder. Probably Italian, but I’m not about to ask after getting shot down.

  Fine. I take advantage of the extra room and stretch out the seat into a narrow bed. There’s a few hours left before they turn the lights back on for breakfast. Hopefully I can get a little sleep before catching my connection to Sicily.

  6

  Andrea

  One Month Later

  “Andrea, love, your da’s calling,” Evie shouts from the living room.

  I toss my copy of Jude the Obscure onto the bed with a sigh and slide on my slippers. This stupid literature class is so much more work than I’d planned on. Going home for Dad’s birthday set me back a week, and now I’ll be lucky if I can get everything done before Christmas break starts.

  Today hasn’t helped. First it was Jehovah’s Witnesses at the door, then Evie got distracted and tried to burn down our flat with a frozen pizza. By the time we got the windows open and the smoke detector to stop screaming, our neighbor was busy proving that Americans are dopes for thinking Brits are quiet and reserved.

  Take my neighbor’s new boyfriend Peter, for example.

  No, really. Please take him.

  I think every time her headboard rams into our adjoining wall it shakes loose some drywall and I can hear her scream his name a little better. I’m happy for them, honest. I just wish I knew less about their love life.

  “Where’s my phone?” I look around the living room, but it’s not on the table where I usually leave it.

  Evie is in her favorite position, draped over a chair with a book in hand. She’s got my phone in her hand. “Here. Was between the cushions.”

  “Thanks, Mom.” I blow her a kiss.

  She rolls her eyes with a grin and goes back to her romance novel. A mostly charred pizza sits next to her, uneaten. Figures.

  I grab my cell and see two missed calls from Dad. Crap, it must be important.

  He picks up almost immediately. “Where have you been?”

  “Buon pomeriggio, papà!” My Italian is actually pretty horrible, but he thinks it’s cute when I try and it sounds like he’s in a mood today.

  I can usually count on my father to brighten my day. Sure he’s a ruthless mob boss, but I’m still his little girl.

  “Andrea, sweetie.”

  Right away I know something’s up because he’s using his “I’ve got bad news” voice.

  See, in Italy, Andrea is a guy’s name. Which would’ve worked out perfectly if the doctor who did Mom’s ultrasound hadn’t screwed up. They were expecting a boy, and ended up with me instead. No big deal, right? Except there were some complications when I was born, and since it looked like I was going to be the only heir, here I am. Named after my grandfather.

  Dad made the best of it, dragging me to football games and teaching me to shoot in between riding competitions and ballet lessons. Mom, on the other hand, I’m not sure she’s ever quite forgiven me for not having a penis, and the name is just one more reminder. Sometimes I wonder what our relationship would be like if I’d had a brother and she could just see me for me.

  Most of the time I just think she’s a bitch.

  “What’s up, Dad?”

  “Honey,” He pauses, every second that ticks away making me more nervous. “Andrea, you need to come home.”

  I flick a glance to Evie, and move back into my bedroom, closing the door. “Seriously. What’s going on? I can’t take more time off so close to exams. It’s not that long until I’m home for Christmas. What’s so important it can’t wait?”

  “This isn’t something we can talk about over the phone. Franco’s already arranging everything, just be ready to go tomorrow.”

  Tomorrow? Is he nuts?

  I sit down on my bed and take a deep breath. “Is someone sick? What’s going on?”

  “It’s nothing like that. We’re all fine. Just come home. Your Family needs you.” His tone of voice makes it clear he’s not speaking as my father. This is Emilio DiFiero, the head of the Family.

  “Will I be coming back before the break?” There’s no fighting this right now. I know it, and he knows it.

  “I don’t think so, tesorina,” he says quietly.

  The hint of sadness in his voice scares me more than when he was laying down the law. “You’re kind of freaking me out here.”

  �
��It’s… what can I say? Don’t stress yourself sick before you get here. Maybe it will even be good in the end. Would I let anything bad happen to my little girl?”

  “No,” I whisper, hoping it’s true.

  Something big is going down, and while I know my father probably means his words, I also know that what he thinks is for my best might not be what I’d choose for myself.

  “Be good for me, Andrea. We’ll talk tomorrow, alright?”

  “Okay.”

  He hangs up, leaving me holding the phone with a growing numbness in my chest. My phone falls into my lap, and I clutch the duvet cover, knuckles white. Outside my window, the day keeps going like my entire life wasn’t just hijacked.

  There’s a rap on the door. “Andie? You wanna go for Nando’s? That pizza was shit when it was hot, and it’s even worse cold.”

  I laugh in spite of myself.

  “Yeah, I’ll be right out.” I send off a quick text to Franco to keep me updated, and pull on a sweater.

  When I open the door, Evie takes one look at me and snaps her book shut. “I know Jude’s a bit of a downer, but it wasn’t based on a true story or anything.”

  Leave it to the literature major to assume my mood is based on a story.

  “I just talked to my father, I’m going to have to fly home for a little while.”

  “What? But you’re already behind. We’re in the middle of session.”

  “Tell me about it. I’m going to have to call and…” Ugh. This is going to be a mess. I’ll be lucky if they let me pick up again next year. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll figure it out. There’s a family thing and I need to get back.”

  Evie nods. “Everyone alright?” She knows I have a huge and somewhat demanding family, just not exactly how demanding. It’s for her own good, but I hate having secrets.

  “Yeah, yeah. Mom’s having a breakdown or something and Dad can’t deal on his own.” It feels a little good to blame it on her, even if it’s probably not true. “I’ll be back.”