Flirt With Me (With Me in Seattle 17)

“I felt it,” she admits softly. “I didn’t know what to do about it. You took me by surprise.”

I lean in and press my lips to hers, feeling everything in me tighten, the way it always does when I touch her. “Same goes.”

I blindly reach over and press the do not disturb button and then rise on my knees to cup her face as I kiss the hell out of her. She fists those small hands in my shirt, and the low moan from her throat makes my cock twitch.

“I’m going to do things to you,” I inform her as I drag my lips along her jawline, “that you won’t soon forget.”

“Oh, I have no doubts.”

The backs of my fingers brush down over her collarbone and farther still to gently touch the tips of her already perky nipples, straining against her bra.

“You can always say no,” I remind her and press a kiss to her chest bone as I unbutton her shirt. “Always.”

“So noted.” Her fingers delve into my hair again after her shirt is completely open, and I slide it down her arms to toss onto my abandoned chair. Rather than strip her out of her bra, I take my time, slipping one strap over the ball of her shoulder and then pressing a kiss to the smooth skin there.

“I feel like we’ve been doing the foreplay thing forever,” she says with a sigh and tilts her head to the side when I drag my lips over to her neck. I take my time enjoying her. I’m able to unfasten her bra with one hand—a skill I acquired in high school—and her heavy breasts spill into my hands.

She sighs.

I groan.

“Too long,” I agree. “But it’s a damn fine form of torture. I don’t mind waiting. I’m not a randy twenty-year-old who can’t keep his dick in check.”

“How fortunate for both of us.” She laughs when I pinch her nipple, and then moans again when I slide my hand into her pants. “If I’d known this would happen on the plane, I would have worn a dress.”

“Now we know for next time.” I wink at her, urging her pants over her hips, and then sit back and stare at the absolutely stunning woman sitting mostly naked before me. “Fucking Jesus, Maeve.”

Curves. That’s all I can think as my hands roam over her slightly rounded thighs, the gentle dip of her waist. She has the body of a goddamn goddess.

“I don’t work out like I should.”

“Did you think that was a complaint?” My eyes meet hers, and I hurry forward to cup her face again and kiss her hard. “You’re so fucking beautiful, my eyes hurt. Jesus, it’s a good thing I didn’t know what you had hidden beneath those clothes because I would have stripped you bare in one of those houses and fucked you on someone’s kitchen counter.”

Her chuckle is startled and pleased, and I can’t help myself.

I grip her by the knees and scoot her forward so I can spread her wide and fucking enjoy her.

“I like the panties, babe.” I kiss her navel as I pull the black lace down her legs, and they join the pile of clothes on my chair. “But Christ on a cracker, the view is so much more spectacular without them.”

She’s not self-conscious in the least, splayed before me.

There’s nothing sexier than a confident woman.

She bites her index finger and watches as I kiss her hip and the top of her thigh. Then I hitch one leg over my shoulder and drag a finger through the wet, gorgeous slit that’s just begging for my mouth.

“Oh, my,” she murmurs.

I grin, lower my head, and just barely lick the edge of her lips.

“Ah, shit,” She grips onto my hair, her fingers clutching as I sink in and go to town, lapping her up. I take turns, teasing that little nub of a clit and then feasting on her pussy.

And when I slide a finger inside her, I’m rewarded with her pulsing climax.

She twists in the seat, cries out, and then almost jackknifes into a sitting position.

I feel the plane begin to descend as she stares down at me with shining green eyes.

“Better get dressed.” I kiss her thigh, her stomach, each breast. And then I find her lips with mine.

“You’re stopping?”

“We’re about to land.” I grin and then kiss her again. “Pretty sure the crew doesn’t want to wait while I have my way with you.”

“Damn it.” But she laughs and reaches for her panties. “That was fun, though.”

“Best time I’ve had in years.” I grab her shirt and wrap it around her shoulders, help her into it, and then fasten the buttons. Her eyes never leave mine. “There are always parties after the show. We’re not going.”

She quirks a brow. “We’re not?”

“No. They’re boring as hell. It’s just a way to see and be seen. And, frankly, I don’t give a rat’s ass about that.”