Faking It For Mr. Right

by Penny Wylder

  Before I’ve even thought about the consequences, I’m lifting myself out of my seat. Before I can worry any more about what might happen if this goes wrong or if we get caught. I’ve never taken a risk like this. But then again, I’ve never flown on a plane either. I’ve never gone on a wild adventure quite like this one. What’s the point if I don’t at least try to live it up and make the most of it?

  So I flash Xander a bold wink and take my time sliding across his lap toward the aisle. Before I straighten up the rest of the way, I bend to whisper in his ear. “See you in a minute, dirty boy.” Then I leave him behind at our seats and stride up through the first class cabin toward the empty and waiting bathroom.

  I’m the first person inside, which means it’s still crystal clean. My heart pounds in my throat as I follow Xander’s instructions. I reach up my skirt, a cute jean skirt I haven’t worn in ages because I’m always either in pajamas or my work uniform for the restaurant, and hook a thumb under the thong I put on this morning. Okay, so maybe I was anticipating something to happen between Xander and me after all. But I didn’t expect it to happen this soon. Or this… well, boldly.

  Still, I’m excited. I can tell when I tug the thong down and it peels away from my skin, already slick with my juices. I want him. Just thinking about him makes my clit ache and throb with desire. I finish stepping out of my panties and stuff them into the back pocket of my skirt just before a soft, quiet knock sounds at the door. It’s tight in the bathroom, but I step to one side and quickly, as quietly as I can, I pop the lock back open.

  Xander slides into the narrow room and shuts the door again behind him. Neither of us breathe or make a sound until the lock slides into place once more. Even then, we’re quiet, and Xander turns to face me with an unreadable, fiery hot expression on his face. He drinks me in like he can’t quite believe I’m real.

  I know the feeling. It’s the same thing I’m doing to him right now. Wondering how in the world I got lucky enough to wind up here, in the cabin of this extremely expensive first class plane ride, sizing up the hottest man I’ve ever seen. The guy who got away. The one I thought I’d never get the chance to touch again.

  Just that thought is enough to spur me into motion. I close the distance between us—which isn’t far in the narrow space. This time when our mouths collide, it’s hot, hard, hungry. Everything I can’t bring myself to say with my voice, I say with my body and my lips in that moment. With my hands as they wrap around Xander’s neck and pull him down against me. With my hips as I arch them up into his, grinding against him, feeling the hard dig of his cock against my stomach already.

  He’s already as hungry for me as I am for him. I can feel it in the strong surety of his arms as they encircle my waist. I can see it in his eyes when he leans back to gaze at me, hungry and filled with white-hot desire. He wants me every bit as badly as I want him.

  “God, you are incredible,” he murmurs, and it makes me laugh softly, and burn hot all over at the same time. A full body blush. One that only continues as he tugs me back against him, his hands tracing down my sides, over the denim of my skirt to the hem, where his fingertips toy with the edge, dancing along the soft, warm flesh of my thighs.

  “I’ve been thinking about all the things I want to do to you every single day since the last time I had my hands on you,” he murmurs, his lips against my neck, just before he kisses me, soft and slow, finding all the sweet spots that make me shiver and tighten my arms around his neck.

  “I dreamt about your hands,” I whisper. “Your lips. Your tongue…”

  In answer, he trails that tongue down, along the edge of my collarbone, his hands tugging my skirt higher, higher, revealing inch by inch of my thigh. His hands feel strong against my skin, digging in just enough to make me gasp with every inch closer to the core of me he moves. My thighs tremble, and I can already tell I’m soaking wet, just from the thought of him.

  And the memory of last time.

  “Did you touch yourself when you thought about me?” asks Xander, his voice low and dark with want. When I tilt my head, I catch him watching me, a coy smile on his mouth, his eyes hot enough to ignite me.

  “A lot,” I breathe, unable to lie, not to his face, now with him looking at me like that.

  His smile widens. “So did I.” His gaze drops over my body, lingering on my chest, my hips, my curves. “I thought of you in the shower. At my desk at work, when I wrapped my hands around my cock…. I remembered how it felt to be buried in that sweet, soft pussy of yours.”

  My throat works hard with a tight swallow. The mental image of him in the shower—or, Christ, at work—jerking himself off while he thought about me, fantasized about me, makes my belly tighten with desire. Fuck. I thought I was the only one who couldn’t get him out of my mind.

  Knowing I had the same effect on him that he had on me… Knowing he fantasized about me so much… It turns me on, more than I could have imagined.

  Especially when he gives a last sharp tug, and pushes my jean skirt up around my hips entirely. It leaves me bare in the chilly air of the cabin bathroom, where the space is so limited, I’m crushed up between the sink and Xander’s body. I tilt toward him, press myself against him, and smile when I feel how hard he is—thick enough I can feel him even through his jeans.

  I reach for the clasp, but he stops my hands with his, his fingers fitting all the way around my narrow wrists.

  “Hungry girl, aren’t you?” he asks with a wicked grin, as he transfers both of my hands into one of his. He raises my arms up over my head, holding both my wrists in one large, strong hand. He pins me back against the mirror and my back arches as I tilt my face up toward his.

  He claims my mouth in a hot, hard kiss, his tongue sliding between my lips, insistent, invading. I relax into his grasp, let him take control. With his free hand, he reaches down to grip my hips and hoists me onto the sink counter of the narrow room.

  “Tell me what you want,” he whispers against my mouth, so close his lips move against mine as he speaks.

  “I want you,” I pant, my breath already coming harder and faster, especially when his arm around my waist drops lower. His finger rests on just next to my pussy, and he strokes, lightly, up and down my lips. He’s teasing me, I realize.

  I swallow hard, and he just arches an eyebrow, patient. Like he’s waiting for more.

  I lick my lips and enjoy the way his gaze drops to follow the path of my tongue. At least I know that for all his poise and teasing, I drive him as wild as he drives me. “I want you to fuck me,” I whisper this time. “Right here, right now. I don’t care who hears.”

  His grin is back, wider than ever. “Your wish is my command, my dirty girl,” he responds and his fingertips find me almost immediately, his warm, thick palm spread across my mound and his fingers spreading my pussy lips, exploring my slit.

  “I love how wet you get when you think about me,” Xander murmurs, stroking me slowly, back and forth, teasing around my entrance.

  I shift along the countertop, trying to push my hips forward, to arch up against his hand. The heel of his palm presses against my clit, and when I rock back and forth, it rubs against me, making a little moan of pleasure escape my lips.

  He pulls his hand away, and my moan shifts into a mewl of protest.

  He just smiles. “So eager. Maybe if you beg nicely, I’ll give you what you want.”

  My eyes flare with heat. Beg. He wants me to beg. The corner of his mouth curls up in a smile, and I war with myself internally. This feels hot as hell. But I also want to win this little contest of wills. So I clamp my mouth shut and lean back against the mirror, my hands still pinned over my head by his hand, feigning nonchalance. “Make it worth my while,” I respond, and he actually laughs aloud at that, under his breath.

  “You’ve got spirit too. I like that.” He winks. Then, without warning, he reaches down and undoes his jeans.

  My eyes widen when they drop to the floor, and he pushes his boxers straight after
them. Fuck. I forgot how thick his cock is. With my hands pinned, I can’t reach for him, but I drink him in with my eyes. The thick fat tip of his cock, the veins that stand out along the sides. It’s as fat as my fist, and I already know how fucking good it feels when he thrusts it inside me. When he fills my pussy so completely.

  My breath hitches as he steps between my thighs, the tip of his cock poised at the edge of my pussy lips. Still watching me, those gray eyes of his never leaving my face, he grips the shaft of his cock and starts to trace around my lips. Up one edge and down the other, then dipping the spongy tip of his cock between my lips to gather the juices collected there, to coat himself.

  My breath comes harder, faster. Especially when the tip of his cock brushes past my clit. It’s impossible to ignore how good he feels. Silky and smooth and getting wetter as I coat him in my own desperate want.

  “Tell me what you want again,” Xander whispers.

  I bite my lower lip. My whole body shivers with anticipation. I try to hold out, but he shifts his hips closer, presses his cock a little harder against my clit, until my toes curl and my whole body vibrates with desperate need. “Fuck,” I mutter under my breath, and he laughs again, softer this time.

  He knows he’s going to get what he wants.

  “Please,” I breathe, my voice breathy, hitching in my throat. “Please fuck me, Xander. Fuck me hard.”

  His smile widens. He doesn’t even bother to respond, he just lines the tip of his cock up with my entrance and, in one smooth motion, pushes inside me.

  The tip enters me with a faint sucking sound, that’s how fucking wet I am. I gasp, which quickly turns into a groan as he continues to press against me, deeper and deeper, rocking his hips ever so slightly to inch farther into me.

  “Fuck,” I gasp. “Yes, yes…”

  Finally, with one slightly harder thrust than the rest, he pushes his cock fully into me. I’ve never felt so full before. Stretched full of his cock. He drops my hands to wrap both his arms around my waist now, and I kick my legs up around his waist, hooking my ankles behind him as he lifts my body as easily as if I weigh nothing, and pins me against the wall. I arch my hips into his, and clench my pussy muscles around him, eliciting a pleasant groan from his mouth.

  “Have I mentioned your pussy is fucking incredible?” Xander murmurs, before he kisses me again, harder this time. When we break apart, he draws his hips back, just a little, and drives forward into me again, making me gasp. “I’ve dreamt about you all fucking week. But nothing compares to the reality.”

  I wrap my arms around his neck for balance, arch my body up against his. With every thrust, my pleasure builds. At this angle, it’s practically impossible for him not to hit my G-spot, as thick as his cock is and as hard as he thrusts up into me. Before long we find a steady rhythm, me rocking against him and him fucking me, pinning me against the wall.

  I start to breathe faster, harder. My gaze darts toward the door, and I realize if I come, I don’t know how much sound I’ll make. I don’t know if I can control it.

  Adrenaline spikes in my veins.

  “Xander, I’m so close, but I…”

  He must understand the panic in my eyes. A second later, he kisses me, hard, open-mouthed, his tongue swallowing mine. When I come, I cry out, the sound muffled by his lips, his tongue, his mouth. I shudder against him, but he holds me up, pinning me in place as he starts to fuck me harder, faster, on the edge of losing control himself.

  With a faint growl, he finishes inside me, and I gasp again at the sensation of his hot cum pumping into my pussy. When he pulls out of me, our mingled juices drip down my thighs, soaking me. He sets me back on trembling legs, and grins at the mess on my legs.

  “Very dirty girl, I should say,” he murmurs, and I swat his shoulder, unable to keep myself from grinning, too.

  He reaches toward the sink and hands me a towel. “As much as I love knowing I did that to you,” he says softly, “let’s get you cleaned up before we go back out there.” He glances at the door, his smile turning wry. “I’m not sure how much of that was muffled, exactly.”

  My whole face heats up red hot. But I can’t deny there’s something thrilling about it too. About knowing what we just did. About how fucking hot it was to do something this wild, in a public place, where anyone could catch us.

  Just then the whole plane lurches, and I can’t help it. I scream. Xander’s arms are around me before I can move an inch, bracing me, holding me against the counter once more, cradled safe in his arms. My heart races against his chest, but his pulse remains steady and calm.

  “You’re okay,” he whispers into my hair. “It’s normal. You’re fine.”

  I sink against him, my eyes falling shut. It feels so natural, so normal, to let him comfort me. To relax in his arms and feel safe. Secure. Still, as good as it felt for the moment, I have to swallow around a lump when Xander finally breaks away, the turbulence past, and reaches for the lock.

  There’s something too good about this. About being with him. And the fact that I feel so safe in his arms, so natural…

  It makes me worry I may already be in over my head. Because I shouldn’t feel that way. Not about someone I’m just doing business with.

  Xander told me we could mix business with pleasure. And maybe he can. But I wonder if I’m really capable of doing the same.

  7

  Xander

  This is actually going to work. That’s the thought going through my head as my driver weaves through traffic, guiding the car toward Central Park. My penthouse is on the edge of the park, with a view that I know Melanie is going to love, based on the way she’s staring out the window now, a huge smile on her face, drinking everything in.

  “It’s just like the movies!” she exclaims, again and again, as we steer toward home.

  I struggle to suppress my grin, watching her. Seeing her reactions to everything from the first class seats and service on the plane, to the chauffeured car that awaited us at JFK airport, even to the city itself, makes me see my world through new eyes. Through her eyes.

  My father is going to love her. How could he not? Anybody would. Her excitement is contagious, her enthusiasm infectious.

  This plan can’t fail. It’s going to get me exactly what I want. Because who could meet Melanie, get to know her, and not believe that I’d fall head over heels for her? Enough to change my bachelor ways and settle down. She’s the perfect match, even if she’s a match I never would have thought of before. She’s so… innocent. So genuine.

  “This is where you live?” she says as we pull up to the curb, so loudly that even Andrew, my usually professional beyond a shadow of a doubt chauffer, stifles an amused laugh.

  “Not here,” I say, as I step out first and hold the door open for her to follow me onto the curb. I point up, past the ornate main entrance. All the way to the top of the skyscraper. “Up there,” I say, and I chuckle at her slack-jawed stare.

  “Have I mentioned this is like something from a movie?” she asks, yet again, as we cross through the golden lobby. The doorman waves, and I greet him by name as he swipes us into the elevator and hits the floor for us.

  As the doors glide shut behind us, Melanie looks around, startled. “We forgot our bags,” she says, reaching for the elevator doors. But there are no buttons on the inside of these elevators. They glide upward of their own volition, the destination already in mind.

  “Don’t worry about that,” I reply. “Andrew will pass them off to the doormen to bring up in a few.”

  She shakes her head, but she’s smiling, too. “I’m starting to think you’re spoiled, Xander.”

  “You have no idea,” I respond. Then I offer a wink. “But don’t worry. I plan to spoil you too. After all, you are my fiancée.”

  The word lands between us heavily, and makes her shift on her feet, the excited smile suddenly fading from her face. I frown, wondering what upset her. I’d meant to just joke about our arrangement. Instead, I seem to have struck a n
erve. But before I can ask what’s going through her mind, the elevator reaches the top. My floor. The doors open, and whatever was eating at Melanie must be forgotten as she spins toward the apartment.

  “Oh, my god.” She steps out, mouth open, and walks slowly through the entrance.

  I follow her, unable to contain my grin. I spent a lot of time making sure this apartment looked exactly right. Now, I’m glad that past me did all that work. I don’t bring people over often, but it’s worth all the effort just to trail Melanie through the place now, seeing it with fresh eyes, the same way I’ve been watching her experience the city ever since we landed.

  She oohs at the marble entryway, fading into the Brazilian hardwood floors of the main room. She ahhs at the fireplace and makes appreciative sounds over the leather couches, the fluffy rug near the fire and the more delicate Persian ones that accent the sitting room. She grins at the dining room, with its oversized chandelier and simple furniture, and literally gasps when she walks into the kitchen, with its enormous marble countertops and more appliances than she’s ever seen before.

  I know this, because she quizzes me about them all, from the food processor to the coffee machine to the wine fridge with individual settings, to maintain the correct temperature for every bottle of wine within it.

  “I didn’t take you for a foodie,” she says, grinning over her shoulder at me.

  I shrug. “I enjoy cooking,” I respond. “It calms me.”

  Her eyes sparkle with amusement when they fix on me again. It’s the kind of look that makes me want to throw our plans out the window and keep her inside all night with me. It makes me want to take her straight back to the bedroom and fuck the rest of the night.

  But no. We have plans. I have a plan, and I need to stick to it if I’m going to get what I want out of this deal.

  “Are you going to cook me a gourmet meal tonight, then?” she’s asking, leaning one hip against the countertop. The pose she’s standing in gives me a flashback to our flight here. To the soft curve of her hips, and how it felt to wrap my hands around them and hoist her up, pinning her against the counter.