“That’s it!” I shrieked, slamming down my iPad, unconcerned with what it did to the seat in front of me. But it wasn’t just that particular passenger whose head swiveled to stare at me. With a captive audience, I had to commit despite how out of character making a scene was. “As soon as we’re off this godforsaken plane I want a divorce.” I bit the inside of my lip to force tears to well in my eyes.
“But what about counseling? We talked about counseling?” Cole tried to calm me, reaching out for my shoulder with his big bear-like hand as I flew up from my seat.
“She’s your mother, Cole. Us going to counseling isn’t going to fix your mother.” I made my voice soar a few octaves as I turned toward the bathroom.
I caught the momentary furrow of his brow at the mention of his mother but he fell back into character the moment I stomped off.
“Elle,” he called and I humphed as I beelined for the bathroom. “Ladyface, wait. Stop. She’s a doctor, You know that’s the only reason she feels like she needs to know your ovulation schedule.”
The telltale sound of seatbacks creaking as he shoved down the aisle after me was the only thing interrupting the normal hum of the airplane. Every set of eyes fell away from us at the airing of our intimate dirty laundry. Even the flight attendants were clearing out of our way with a simple ma’am or sir.
“It’s not because she’s a doctor, it’s because she wishes you were still attached to her teet,” I shouted as I whirled into the bathroom, slamming the door with a flourish. I jumped at the noise I made, surprising myself.
“That’s low. You know she suffered from postpartum depression.” The barrier did little to muffle his thick honey voice.
“You’re twenty-nine Cole!” I kicked the rickety door for emphasis.
The soft tones of flight attendants politely trying to diffuse the situation mingled with Cole’s grunts and groans.
“Ladyface.” He mellowed a little, cooing as he wrapped his knuckles on the bathroom door. “Ladyface, please. At least talk to me.”
“No.” I stomped again.
“Elle, let me in there now. We are talking this through, and we’re talking this through now. You can’t run from me on a motherfucking plane.” The moment he swore, he apologized to the people nearest the bathroom I’d locked myself in.
I tried to remember their faces and couldn’t. But I could perfectly map the sharp angles of his along with the way tattoos threatened to envelop each ridge. I hadn’t been able to think of anything else all day.
“Elle, open this door.” Cole’s voice had changed again, this time it was a rough, snarly, commanding thing.
My fingers trembled a little as they reached for the lock. I popped it to find Cole waiting with an attendant behind him, peeking in curiously. I thanked my lucky stars anxiety had kept my teeth firmly latched to my cheek.
“Talk to me,” he pleaded a little too loudly for the sentiment.
“Fine,” I sighed and pulled open the door. It may have been my imagination but the flight attendant standing over Cole’s shoulder seemed to nod in encouragement.
And why wouldn’t she? Cole was a breathtaking man complete with tattooed muscular forearms, and darkly golden hair fashioned into a cut David Beckham probably paid serious money for. He was wearing dark, fitted jeans and a short-sleeve button-up that was a classy accent to the dangerous and drool-worthy ink. Any red-blooded woman would scream he’s a keeper, if only to climb like a jungle gym!
“You can’t leave me,” he snarled as he stepped in, latching the door.
“Think they bought it?” I murmured before whining, “I can’t stay either. Not like this,” at an unnecessary decibel.
“Hook, line and fucking sinker,” his whisper was laced with a husky chuckle. “And added benefit, fighting with you has me harder than the stroking before.”
I purred and reached across the minuscule distance to his erection, which was in fact, straining almost painfully against the trouser trap of denim.
“Cole, I just can’t be married to both of you any more. She’s a succubus.”
His hulking frame was made all the larger by the confines of an airplane bathroom. Big, strong hands wrapped around my thighs and rucked my knee up to his hip. He’d helped me dispose of my thong from under my skirt ages ago—thanks scratchy blue felt blanket—and he unceremoniously slid into me.
“Fuck, babe,” his words were a very real reaction to being inside me and I had to dig my fingers in where I clutched at his biceps to remind him we’re acting you, asshat. He caught the drift. “How do you want me to respond?” he strangled out as he started thrusting shallow and slow, letting the tip of his delicious dick tease my sex.
“I want you to pick me.” My voice wavered at the same time everything in my belly clenched at the idea of him actually picking me.
Cole gasped when he felt it then shoved in fully. I leaned in and bit into his chest to hold in the haggard sounds of pleasure I wanted to let loose.
“I did. I will,” his voice was almost agonized.
I prayed his voice read tortured in love rather than holding back cum.
“You say that, Cole.”
On second thought, I prayed no one was listening anymore at all. Our acting was getting weaker than my quivering knees as he started hammering into me. My ass hit the counter a few times before he fully gripped and lifted me. The way he curled his fingers had one of his tattooed digits pressing against the pucker of my ass.
“I mean it.” His barely remembered line reminded me of cheap daytime soap operas.
His finger pushing into me then against his hammering dick reminded me I didn’t care. Cole plunged and thrust, alternating his digit with the almost belligerent force of his cock.
“I’m at my wit’s end,” I yell-moaned.
Fingers crossed more yell than moan.
Cole arched back and looked directly into my eyes; bright, blazing green meeting lucid, icy blue.
“Me too,” he strangled out.
His eyes confirmed what we were both implying. He pushed a second finger the tiniest way into my ass and I exploded. When I clenched down on him, his fingers split into a V and he rubbed himself through me. I bit into his shoulder again rather than moan as wild and wanton as I wanted. I felt his orgasm hit inside me, my body jerked with each little assault. I bit harder into his flesh.
The moment he could manage he added loudly, “I guess that’s it then.”
“Yeah, I guess so,” I gasped a little more wildly than him.
Cole smirked as he set me back down gently to the floor, a deep and delicious dimple carving into his cheek. “That was fucking unbelievable,” he whispered as he pulled out. The heat of his cum dripped down onto my inner thigh. As best as he could, he folded in the small space, bending down and grabbing a paper towel.
“Don’t.” I batted at his hand. “It’s a souvenir.”
“God, I think I may be in love with you.” Desire shot through his beaming eyes and made his shoulders shudder.
“Good. People need to think as much for the next thirty to forty-five minutes. They think we’re married remember?” I arched an eyebrow as I splashed some water on my face, purposely making tear tracks I could wipe off in the aisle.
A knock at the door made me jump but Cole was calm and collected as he swept his eyes over me. As soon as my dress dropped down to my ankles, he popped open the door.
“Sir, Miss, everything okay in here?” The flight attendant’s stern face faltered when she took us in.
“No. She’s fucking leaving me,” Cole snarled and whipped past her.
“I…I thought…it sounded like…I’m so sorry,” she stammered.
Clearly, we’d been as loud as I feared and only recovered at the last minute by miraculously looking like we’d ruined something deep inside each other rather than just wrecking everything between my thighs.
“It’s been a long time coming.” I bit my lip, pretending a quiver hung on it rather than a Cheshire Cat grin. “I’m just sorry that it came to a head here.” I added volume to the second part, hoping it sufficed as an apology to the cabin.
“We’re a completely full flight, I can’t reassign your seat, but perhaps I can coordinate a swap,” she added kindly.
“No. That won’t be necessary. The damage is done. The drama has passed. Thank you though.”
I pushed past her to my vacant seat next to a huffing Cole. He snuck me a devastating wink before I plopped next to him. As soon as I did, he grazed his knuckle along my thigh. The one that had a cat on it. I remembered the animal vividly from when he drummed his hand on the folding tray—I’d pictured his pussy deep inside mine. The finger along with the newly minted memory made me smile, and once again, I found myself biting too hard on the inside of my cheek.
Perfectly timed tears welled in the corner of my eyes as the flight attendant took it upon herself to bring me a tiny bottle of Jameson. I nodded, doing my best to look choked up rather than fantasizing about choking on Cole’s cock. She handed him a similar bottle then turned.
“Ice?” he questioned under his breath.
I shook my head and tipped my bottle to stealthily cheers his, unscrewing it and putting it back with a simple unhinge of the throat. I swallowed hard and made the sour face that always accompanied a shot but then let out a deep and satisfied sigh. I turned to Cole, hoping to sneak a small smile in his direction. Instead, I found him watching me wide-eyed as if he’d never seen a woman shoot whiskey before.
“Should see me with cum,” I mouthed the words more than anything but he caught my drift, his whole face changing.
Heat radiated back at me, his eyes like the blistering ripples that wave up from pavement, his muscles taut like he might pounce. I crossed my legs trying to suppress the arousal quickly spreading between my thighs and Cole’s eyes darted down to watch. His gaze was the sun filtered through a magnifying glass, and at any moment I might explode into flame. When I pressed harder and both the sticky and scratchy patches of Cole spread across my thighs, my blush bloomed across my cheeks, a fire all its own.
He cleared his throat, pulling my eyes back to his. When we locked on each other again, he unscrewed his lid, shoved his tongue out and made a clover looking shape. He poured part of the tiny bottle into the well he’d created, pulled his tongue in and swallowed. The rose colored heat spread down my neck and wove like vines along my collarbone. He stuck his tongue back out, making a simple circular tube. Without another flourish, he poured the rest of the bottle down the makeshift straw.
Cole let a smug smile spread across his lips when he’d gulped the whiskey down. He didn’t need to mouth, no, you should see me with your clit.
“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. We have begun our final descent to the Chicago area. Please make sure your tray tables are locked and your seatback is in the full upright position…” The captain continued his automated spiel, breaking the spell that had held Cole and me captive.
I looked away first and kept my eyes downcast for the rest of the flight.
When we shuffled out, the flight attendants each gripped my shoulder, undoubtedly hoping to show support. Only a small part of me felt bad for deceiving everyone. The rest of me wanted a pat on the back for having my way with a gorgeous stranger in the bathroom.
And yes, big, beautiful, art-covered, five o’clock shadowed Cole was still a stranger to me. I’d approached him on a whim in the terminal then we’d spent a flight rubbing on each other, teasing and tormenting each other. I hadn’t even seen underneath his shirt. He was supposed to stay that way.
So I kept walking. Up the gangway, out through the gate, down the terminal then toward the exit. Each step created delicious friction below my waist and reminded me there was still signs of what we’d done coating my skin. It made my internal temperature sky rocket.
And become desperate for an orgasm.
I tucked into the bathroom, fully intending to rub one out while I pictured his cat tattoo inside me all over again when I noticed a cocktail napkin shoved into my purse. As I smoothed the crinkles, big bold letters bled across the flimsy white paper.
Send me a souvenir
I swallowed hard as I stared at his request. Of course I knew what he was asking. I’d used the word after all.
For a moment, I considered balling up the napkin and chalking the whole thing up to a one-time sex checklist item. I mean, a man like that was absolutely zero good in real life. Right? But then I pictured him gulping whiskey out of an impossible to make with your tongue shape and decided good things come in bad and beastly packages and slipped into a stall with my phone at the ready.
When I pulled up my skirt, little crystalline patches ran like the Nile Delta across my skin. The moment he came flashed vividly back to mind. My finger was reaching toward the slick folds of my sex before I even thought fully about it. The second I laid the pad of my finger to the tiny nub of nerves my body twitched and jerked. An orgasm was waiting just around the corner for me courtesy of Cole No-Last-Name-But-Hulking-Shoulders.
I flipped the camera to video and positioned myself so the screen was filled with cum covered flesh, hiked up skirt and a glistening, slick sex. One finger pressed the big red circle on my phone while the other pressed on a very different button.
My hips bucked up into my hand and I had to keep my feet from sliding out into another stall. I couldn’t help but watch as my most intimate bits tightened, twitched and trembled. Two of my fingers dipped inside me, following their far too familiar path and crooked up into my G-spot.
Cole wouldn’t be able to see but my head rolled back against the wall and shook side to side. When my eyes fluttered shut it was all him, my fingers weren’t mine any more. He stroked me. He teased me, circled me, caressed me and swirled around in the arousal thick between my legs.
It took me almost no time to come, though I almost bit off my tongue trying not to shriek, and even less time to send the video via message along with the text:
you did this to me.
Almost immediately the telltale three dots appeared in response. But then just as quickly, they vanished. I gulped hard on the lump in my throat, feeling regret seep into my pores. A stranger had a video of me orgasming and he didn’t even appreciate it. Or worse, didn’t want it. There could even be a girl threading her hand into his that still had me all over them.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
What had I done? Not only sending the video, but on the plane. I’d spread my legs like it was some pervy game of Getting To Know You. Like it was no big deal. Like I did that, did guys casually, on the regular. Where was my dignity? Where were my walls? Why hadn’t they contained me? My skin flushed to rosy pink.
But then the dots picked back up.
i’m turning the car around. meet me in arrivals. i haven’t kissed you yet. this isn’t remotely over…