Mister Weston

“We’ve discussed this.” He pulled me close. “I don’t do girlfriends.” His lips were suddenly on mine, coaxing and warm, then demanding and hot. His teeth punished my bottom lip with a soft bite and I couldn’t help but kiss him back.

Slipping a hand under my dress, he whispered against my mouth. “You don’t want this again?” He tugged at my soaked panties and pressed his thumb against my swollen clit, sensuously rubbing it in circles as he trailed his tongue against my neck.

“No...” I lied, holding back a moan.

Everything around me became a hazy blur as his fingers continued to mercilessly tease me, as his tongue swirled against my exposed skin. I wanted to give in, to admit that he could bring me to pleasure like no one else could, but I knew having him again would only affect one of us.

“Gillian.” His mouth returned to mine. “Say yes to fucking me at landing.”

“No.” I bit his lip and stepped back. “I can’t.”

He looked completely confused. “And why is that?”

“Because if I were to sleep with you again, I’d have to be your only one.”

“My only what?”

“The only woman you have sex with.”

“Come again?” He let go of my waist.

“Like I told you before, I don’t normally hookup...The first time we had sex was fine, because it was a one-night stand, but the second time was a mistake.”

“Having multiple orgasms is never a mistake.”

“Maybe, but I’m not the type who would be okay with having sex with you one night, while knowing that you could possibly be having sex with Sally tomorrow.”

“I don’t know any women named Sally.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I honestly don’t.”

“No matter how much you claim that you ‘need’ to fuck me again, and no matter how many times I might’ve thought about it, too...”

“You’ve definitely thought about it, too.”

“In spite of that, even though the last thing I want right now is a new relationship—”

“Monogamous fucking sounds exactly like a relationship.”

“It isn’t, but the next time I have sex—whenever that is, it will be with someone who’s fucking me and only me. So, if you can’t handle that or agree, you should just walk away.”

He stepped back, and without saying another word, he walked away.

GATE B10

JAKE

In flight—> London (HTW)

I’D HEARD A LOT OF bullshit in my life, but “I have to be your only one” might’ve secured itself in the number one spot.

I stared straight ahead from the cockpit, wondering why the hell this woman I barely knew was having any type of effect on me. Twice, after walking away from her, I’d ventured into the cabin for a restroom break and caught her smiling and entertaining a male passenger. Each one was a Wall Street type.

The asshole in 3A told her a joke about “the mile-high club.” She’d laughed at him, and even though I could tell it wasn’t genuine, I knew she wasn’t lying when she told him she’d never had sex on a plane. The color on her cheeks gave her away.

The asshole in 4C kissed her hand after she brought him a glass of wine. Then he caressed it as he flirted with her for a least three minutes. (I fucking counted.)

I was seconds away from walking over to him and saying something, but I came to my senses at the last minute and returned to the cockpit—vowing to stay put for the rest of the flight.

Her demands for monogamous fucking were unfair and completely unrealistic, but as we coasted through another patch of clouds, I briefly contemplated if an arrangement like that could work. Temporarily, at least.

Yes, I’d been unable to seal the deal with most of the women in my contact list for weeks, but I didn’t expect that to last forever. Before running into Gillian on the SkyLink, my London contact was texting me about “desperately” needing sex again, but she was insisting that I take her out on a real date beforehand.

I had yet to respond because I knew if we had one date, she would want two. Then there would be random “I’m thinking about you.” “What are you up to?” text messages late at night, and ultimately a conversation about wanting more. It always ended with someone—always the woman, wanting more and that’s why casual sex didn’t need to be consistent with just one person. It didn’t need to resemble anything like a relationship.

I didn’t need to think about Gillian’s “only one” demand any further.

She’s out of her goddamn mind...

GATE B11

GILLIAN

London (HTW)

“FLIGHT ATTENDANTS, prepare for landing.” Jake’s deep command came over the speakers minutes before the descent, making me walk through the cabin one last time to make sure all the seat belts were fastened.

The two men who’d flirted with me hours ago were both thankfully staring out the windows, so there was no time for me to accept either of their offers for a date at landing.