CHAPTER FOUR
EMILY
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I f this is how my new life is starting off, then it’s brilliant.
I was upgraded to first class and have tons of space to stretch out my legs. The flight attendant said to just push a button, and it turns into a bed.
Wow!
Aside from a minor incident with the champagne, which I can still feel on my sweater, it has been awesome.
Mr. Hottie on my right isn’t very chatty, but I figure he just doesn’t like flying. Or perhaps he only talks to supermodels—the guy is drop-dead gorgeous.
I’ll admit, the moment I saw him, he took my breath away and made me nervous. I haven’t stopped talking since.
When he smiled—sort of—I felt my entire body quiver. He’s way out of my league in his soft blue shirt that hugs his muscular shoulders and, while I can’t see all of him, my eyes did drift to his pants and, well, it’s totally inappropriate but I swear he has the biggest package.
And I’m not talking about a delivery.
I hope he falls asleep soon so I can snap a photo and send it to Lexi. I’m adding #HenryCavillsBrother because between the square jaw and dark wavy hair they have got to be related.
Except, obviously, this man is American.
“Hey, you haven’t told me your name.” I suddenly blurt out, as if he’s shown interest in chatting to me.
He hasn’t.
Green eyes slide in my direction, and I can’t tell if he’s annoyed or amused. However, there is a small, dark smirk on his lips that’s sexy as hell.
“Bastian.” He almost purrs.
Bastian.
Hottest name ever!
My god, I’m going to burst into flames before this flight is over. I don’t think I’ve ever been so attracted to a man in my life. I’m all flushed and can’t stop talking.
“Bastian,” I repeat, and his smile stretches.
“Say that again,” he orders, and good lord, I feel the dominance in his voice right between my legs.
Not where my knees meet, either.
“Your name?”
When he nods, my cheeks burn hotter and, as sexy as I can, say, “Bast-i-an.”
Christ . I sound like a squawking raven with a Londen accent.
Bastian does this rough growl low in his throat and turns back to his meal.
Um, what just happened?
Did we flirt?
I stare down at my empty plate and wonder if the attraction I’m feeling goes both ways. Surely not. Do we have chemistry?
Our trays are cleared, and the cabin lights dim. Passengers around us plug in headphones and turn on movies, start reading, or simply close their eyes to get some shuteye.
Then I notice Bastian watching me.
I smile.
He glowers back seductively, and my mouth wobbles nervously. What do I do?
“So, no husband, no boyfriend?” Bastian asks.
I shake my head.
“You?”
Shit.
Bastian smirks. “No boyfriend.”
“No girlfriend, I meant. Shit, sorry.” I shake my head, closing my eyes, knowing I sound like an idiot.
“I was teasing. What are you doing in New York?” His body turns to mine slightly.
He was teasing?
Bastian doesn’t look like a man who teases. More the rip your clothes from your body and show a woman just how much man he is, kinda guy.
Or maybe that’s my overactive and hopeful imagination.
I force myself to relax. He’s likely just making conversation, as we have a long flight ahead of us. This isn’t a date.
Get it together Emily.
“Working,” I say. “I applied for a job and got it. I couldn’t believe it. It was on a whim, so this is all completely unexpected.” Great, now I sound like I don’t have a life plan and also can’t stop talking and over-explaining. “But I have a Bachelor of Arts degree from London Met—”
His brows lift.
“University, I mean. London Metropolitan University. A college, I guess you call them.”
“We do.” His masculine voice ripples through my body, and my nipples harden.
Jesus, how does he do that?
“Did you go to college?”
God. Of course he did. What an idiot.
Bastian lifts his drink, which was just topped off, and nods. “Harvard.”
I swallow.
See. Not just any college, but one of the most famous in the world.
“Fancy.”
He smiles, placing his glass down, and glances around the cabin, taking his time before turning back to me. The control and confidence this man has seem to suck all the oxygen from my body, and I wait for him to speak so I can breathe.
Being upgraded felt like winning the lottery, but my heart rate won’t calm down. There’s no way I’m going to sleep.
My armpits overheat and the stickiness of the spilled champagne begins to irritate me, so I undo my seatbelt and take off my sweater. Relaxing back into the seat, I’m suddenly conscious of my less than slim figure and tug at my blouse.
Bastian’s eyes graze over my cleavage and then lift to mine. There’s a fire in his eyes that every female understands.
He is attracted to me.
“Drinks?” the flight attendant asks, glancing between us, and I swear she knows.
“Champagne,” Bastian says firmly. “We’re celebrating Emily’s new job.”
We are?
“And keep them coming.”
“Oh, ah, yes.”
I mean, if I can’t sleep and this gorgeous man wants to drink champagne with me, then I’m not bloody saying no.
T WO HOURS LATER, I’m giggling and curled up in my seat, twisted so Bastian is my only focus.
I’m on my third glass. The big annoying barrier between us feels like a brick wall, but I lean my elbow on it as I share how I made my mom run after me through Borough Market when I was six after stealing a cheese scone.
“That’s like a biscuit, right?” Bastian takes a sip.
“Don’t you call them cookies?” I frown.
“Like a chocolate scone?”
“Gross.”
“I’m confused.” He laughs.
God, he’s gorgeous.
“Okay, let’s go back. A biscuit is a round thing with chocolate.” I explain.
“No, a biscuit goes with chicken and gravy.”
“Okay, that is gross.” I make a gagging sound.
Bastian pulls out his phone and we lean together as he does a search online. Then we laugh when the images clarify the differences.
“Wow, we are speaking two different languages.” I chuckle.
Bastian drops his phone, and lifts his face, slightly turning until our eyes lock. His smirk fades and shiver-worthy green eyes drop to my breasts.
“Your fragrance is—”
“It’s just shampoo.” I curse inwardly.
Stop talking.
Let him...do what? Is he going to kiss me on the plane? I’m not opposed to it, but surely he wouldn’t.
Would he?
I’ve heard of people shagging on a flight but...
Man, I’ve had way too much champagne.
The cabin is dark, the only light from his dimmed phone screen.
“Can I top off your drinks?”
Go away lady. We’re having a moment.
Bastian takes my glass and holds them up, not looking away from me as she pours.
Me.
Emily Harper.
And look-alike Henry Cavill.
I swallow loudly.
His eyes dart away briefly to acknowledge the flight attendant. “Thank you.”
Then he hands it back to me.
When she walks away, I take a sip and the liquid confidence has me asking, “What is happening right now?”
“You know,” he rasps.
Earlier, Bastian rolled up his sleeves and revealed roped forearms, a very expensive-looking Piguet wristwatch, and a tattoo. His own cologne is subtle but hints at being outside my budget.
I know I’m pretty, but I’m not gorgeous. I have curves that I accepted a few years ago because I love food too much. Not fat, just not slim. Let’s put it this way: no one is going to accuse me of being a runner.
I don’t have makeup on and my hair is untamed—the curse of curly hair—and I’m dressed for comfort on a red-eye. Leggings, a blouse, sweater—which I’ve ditched—and long thick socks.
There is nothing sexy about me tonight.
I can admit that.
So why is Bastian hot stuff looking at me like he wants to fuck my brains out? Because he is. I’m not a virgin. I know when a man wants to have sex.
What is happening right now?
You know.
Yes. I do, and now I need to respond instead of just staring at him stupidly.
I swallow. “Let’s say I do?”
That sounded much bolder than I really am.
Perhaps I’ve changed.
I’m not curvy-and-a-little-bit-awkward Emily from London. I’m now a little-bit-drunk Emily, who flies first class and almost lives in New York City.
Perhaps this is my time to come alive and be a sexually free woman.
Or Bastian could be the love of my life.
I almost snort at that thought.
“Then, Emily from London , I would say, finish your drink and meet me at the front of the plane in three minutes.”
My mouth falls open.
Bastian climbs out of his seat and gives me a heated glance. My eyes slide down his body—it’s the first time I’ve seen him standing.
Holy fuck.
He’s deliciously tall and even broader than I realized. Watching him stride down the aisle, I catch his tight round ass in a pair of clearly well-tailored suit pants and swear I see his back muscles ripple under his shirt.
I swallow, glancing around, waiting for someone to tell me this is a joke.
Meet me at the front of the plane in three minutes.
I take a large sip of my wine for courage and count down the seconds like an idiot.
I could stay here, but Lexi would kill me.
Heck, I’d bloody kill myself if I let this opportunity pass.
A one-night stand on a flight. I guess we will be waking up together, which will be awkward, and other people might work out what we did...
Oh, fuck it.
I’m drunk enough to not care.
I scramble up, pull my lip balm out of my pocket and slide it over my lips. My mouth goes dry as I glance around the cabin, but my feet start walking.
How is this going to work?
Bastian is...large.
When I reach the front of the aircraft, the flight attendant glances at me, then looks away.
God, she knows.
A door opens and Bastian gives me that dark, naughty smile of his as I step inside.
Then we’re alone.
Without hesitation, he slides his large palm behind my neck and slams his mouth down on mine.
Holy hell.
Fire explodes inside me as I happily become putty in his hands.
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SEBASTIAN
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J ESUS, EMILY TASTES like honey and sin.
I’ve been wanting to kiss her for hours. There is something about her that I can’t explain. It might be her stunning blue eyes and deep-red curls, but I’d say it’s her tits. Fuck they’re gorgeous.
My cock has been pressing painfully against my zipper for over an hour, and I swear I have pre-cum on my briefs.
I need Emily on her knees and her mouth stuffed with my dick.
There’s not enough room to slide it through her cleavage and give her a pearl necklace, though if I could find a way, I’d totally do it.
We have time to kill.
I’m not sure how experienced she is—clearly younger than me—but there’s hunger in her kiss and it has my balls tucking up. I’m not going to last long.
I release her mouth and run my tongue over her bottom lip, then nip at it.
“Sit down.” I indicate the closed toilet behind her.
Emily immediately does as she’s told.
Submissive. Nice.
“What if someone comes?” She asks, wide-eyed.
“The only one coming in the next ten minutes is me, sweetheart.” I smirk, unzipping my fly.
Emily’s eyes dip and her mouth drops open as she acknowledges my large cock.
I’m thick and long.
“You will too, if we can logistically work it out.”
When she glances up, licking her lips, I let out a groan. Jesus fuck. I want to slam my dick in, but I want to make sure there’s full consent happening here.
“You can say no. But, Emily, I’d really like you to suck me off.” I stroke my cock, and she wraps her hand over mine. The softness of her skin sends electric sparks through me.
Goddamn, I wish we were on my jet in the private bedroom so I could lay her out and spend my time licking her pussy and fucking her on her knees.
And about ten other positions I can imagine she’d love.
A submissive woman is my kryptonite.
I don’t usually go for such a curvy girl, but on Emily, my fucking god, she’s so feminine and sexy.
“Open your blouse.”
She keeps staring at my cock as she undoes the buttons and then exposes her gorgeous, covered breasts.
God, yes!
I tug down one of the cups and tweak her nipple.
“Oh god.” Emily moans.
We don’t actually have a lot of time because someone could knock.
“Spread your legs.” I move in closer and guide my cock inside her hot mouth while I needle her breast. As her tongue glides over my cock, I’m the one moaning. “Fuck, yes. Emily.”
Why didn’t we do this earlier?
The plane bounces, light turbulence moving us around, but I steady her and grab her head. Those blue eyes lift to mine as my cock slides back and forth, filling her mouth and teasing her throat.
Eagerly she works me, cupping my balls for a moment and allowing me slip down farther.
I’m going to come so fucking hard in a minute.
Who knew flying commercial could be so goddamn fun after all?
I palm the wall and arch my neck.
“Yes, mouth-fuck me, Emily.” I grunt and thrust faster.
Her hands grip my hips, and when I glance down, watching the last of my seed spill onto her lapping tongue, I see a wanton woman with her breasts out and my cock resting on her tongue.
Christ.
What a flight.
I grab a few small towels and hand one to Emily, cleaning my cock and putting it away.
“Was not expecting that.” She laughs awkwardly.
I grab her, kissing her again, tasting myself on her tongue. “We are not done.”
“Someone is going to knock.” She gasps, glancing around me nervously, but I’m already working out the logistics.
Fortunately, she’s wearing a pair of black leggings which allows me easy access.
“I want my mouth on your pussy, but I’m too big.” I rasp, sliding my hand under the waistband.
She gasps, and I freeze.
“Talk to me.”
“I...it’s okay. This is just crazy.”
My lips lift as I continue my journey under her panties and let out a groan when I feel how wet she is.
“Fuck, I want to taste you.”
Circling her clit, I have to hold her up when her legs start buckling.
“Oh hell, I’m going to embarrass myself and come in ten seconds.”
I grin, loving how real she is. So different from the women I usually meet...and fuck.
Sliding farther in, I use two fingers to glide through her flesh and then press inside. She’s tight as hell, waking my cock back up again.
Emily grips my arms, panting while I do some quick mathematics working out how we could fuck in this small space.
It isn’t happening. I’m six foot four and two hundred and forty pounds. Of muscle.
Pumping harder and faster, hindered by the tight leggings, I feel my little British passenger start to shudder, and my lips stretch into a proud grin. Lifting her mouth to mine, I smash mine to hers, and we moan together as she begins to orgasm.
I want more.
I need to fuck this woman.
Next week we’ll meet up so I can sink deep inside her and watch as she completely falls apart, screaming my name. While I lick the taste of her juices from my lips.
You don’t waste this kind of chemistry.
In fact, I don’t remember wanting to fuck a woman as intensely as I do Emily.
“Come, sweetheart,” I rasp against her mouth.
“Bastian,” she cries and falls apart around my fingers.
Then collapses against my chest.
Christ.
Right now, I’d pay ten million dollars to get everyone off this plane so I could fuck Emily Harper.
I might even send Jeremy a bonus check.