Faking It For Mr Right

“An empty grass hillside is hardly public,” I protest.

“Want to try a real challenge then?” he responds in an instant, and his gaze drifts away from me, around the rest of the first class cabin we’re seated in. His eyes fix eventually on the bathroom at the far end of the cabin, and all at once, I realize what he means. He glances back at me, still grinning. “If you’ve never flown before, then I assume you’ve never had an opportunity to join a certain mile-high club before, either.”

My belly tightens. My thighs clench tight at the thought. “I can’t. I mean, we can’t,” I amend.

He sits back in his seat. “We could,” he responds. “But not if you don’t want to.”

“It’s not a matter of want,” I whisper now, afraid someone might overhear us. What do they do if you get caught debating public sex on a plane? Strap you down into your seat forcibly? It’s not like they can eject you. I wonder if you’d get in trouble on the far end. Can they ban people from flying certain airlines? “We can’t just hook up here in the middle of the sky,” I hiss. “People will hear us.”

“So?” His eyebrows arch.

I stifle a laugh. “So, we’d get in trouble.”

“Do you live your entire life by the rules, Melanie?”

“Obviously not.” I gesture around us wildly. “I’m here with you, aren’t I? A guy I only met for one night, a week ago, halfway to the city I’ve always wanted to visit, because of a wild business idea.”

“Well then. What’s one more wild idea to add to the list?” He leans in closer again, and I catch the scent of his cologne, mingled with something hotter, smokier. His scent. The same one that I remember so sharply from the hillside where we had sex the first time. His eyes are filled with lust, fixed on me, white-hot.

I tilt toward him almost without even realizing it, my body moving of its own volition. “How would we even do it?” I whisper, all too aware that within the span of minutes I’ve gone from being completely opposed to this idea to sounding like I’m genuinely considering it.

Not that I am.

I mean, mostly. I’d just like to know how he’d hypothetically get away with this, if we were to try it.

He grins, all wicked seduction, like he knows all too well that he’ll win this battle by the end. “Well,” he says, drawing out the word. Making me feel every second of the weighty pauses. “First, you would go and slip into that bathroom up there,” he whispers. “Lock the door and wait a few minutes. Then I would walk up and knock softly, and you’d unlock it and let me in to… join you.” As he says that last word, his fingertip trails down the length of my arm, all the way from my shoulder to my wrist.

Where he touches, goosebumps rise along my skin to follow. I swallow hard, my throat suddenly tight for some reason. “I see,” I respond, parroting his favorite phrase. “And once you did that, what would happen.”

“Well.” His gaze shifts over my body. “First, we’d have to deal with that skirt of yours. But that’s easily done. Hike it up and reveal…” He tilts his head to one side. “What are you wearing underneath it today, my little good girl turned dirty?”

My cheeks flush, and I pray nobody in the seats around us can hear. But his voice is soft, steady. And besides, most people have headphones in, lost in the movies playing on their screens. Still, I lower my voice to match his. “Panties,” I whisper back. “A thong, actually.”

His grin widens. “Good. But you know what would be better? If you slipped those off while you were waiting for me in the bathroom.” He bends closer to me, his lips barely inches from my own, as his eyes pin me in place. He reaches up, achingly slow, and tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “You might even get yourself ready for me first, too. Touch yourself, slowly… think about where you want me to touch you. About where you want my hands.”

I shiver. Already I can feel my lust pulsing through my body, pooling between my thighs. “And when you do join me inside?”

“Simple, my dirty girl.” He bends to kiss the edge of my jawline softly, right where my neck meets the edge of my cheek. His teeth nip at my skin, just hard enough to make me gasp softly and arch my back a little. “I’m going to fuck you.”

I shiver at the simple, dirty words. Hearing them in his deep baritone voice just makes me want him all the more.

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?