Chapter 13
SWAYZE
Beeeeeeeeep.
Turning sharply, my eyes lock with Mia’s wide-eyed gaze.
Oh hell. Here we go.
The sound? That’s her setting off the body scanner.
Before I can say anything, a TSA agent draws her attention away, beckoning her over to be searched.
A very male TSA agent.
Nope.
Hell no.
Pretty sure that’s against TSA policy, and if not, it’s about to be because there's absolutely no way that guy's putting his hands on my girl.
Fake girl. Whatever.
My carry-on forgotten, I make sure my police badge is in my pocket—for all the good it’ll do me here—and stride toward them.
What are you gonna do, you idiot? You can’t arrest him for doing his job.
Gritting my teeth, I roll my shoulders in a useless attempt to loosen the tension bracketing them.
As if I wasn’t already on a knife’s edge.
I haven’t eaten all day, our cab showed up late, and let's not forget the tiny issue of faking a relationship with the one girl I have very real feelings for—for the next two weeks.
The last thing I need is some dickweed groping her in the name of airport security. That’ll be the cherry on top of a shit sundae I didn’t fucking order.
She’s hardly smuggling contraband in her tight tank top, which he’s currently ogling like a starving man looks at a cheeseburger.
He can fuck right off. Those buns are mine.
“You okay, Angel?” I draw up alongside them, cocking a brow. His head snaps toward me, raising a hand in my direction.
“Sir, you need to stay right there. This doesn’t concern you, it’s a security matter.” He takes a step toward me and draws himself up—a good six inches shorter—puffing out his chest.
A for effort, but he looks about as threatening as a penguin.
“She’s mine. So yeah, whatever concerns her, concerns me.” I glare down at him, catching him gulp as my muscles flex and expand when I slide my hands into my back pockets.
Yeah, take a good look. Lay a finger on my girl, and I’ll snap every single bone in your body without even breaking a sweat, wise guy.
“Sorry, ma’am, we need to do a quick search, but our female officer got called away. If you’re comfortable I can do it, or you’ll have to wait here for her to come back. I can’t let you proceed without it.”
“We’ll wait,” I grind out before Mia can answer, crossing my arms and spearing him with my best police stare. She shoots me an amused look, but luckily, the female agent rounds the corner and hurriedly searches her.
As my girl approaches me, I catch the little fucker still watching her, and annoyance rips through me.
I’ll give him a security matter in a second.
“You didn’t have to go all caveman on him, Patrol Puppy. My piercings set those off all the time, it’s not my first rodeo.”
She smirks up at me, and pats my chest, her stunning eyes dancing with amusement. I take the chance to slide a hand into her soft dark waves and use my thumb to tilt her chin up, closing the gap between us.
“What did I tell you about calling me puppy, you minx? Keep it up and I’ll show you exactly why they call me the wolf.” My voice dips, rough and low, watching her teeth sink into that sexy lip before her mouth curves into a smile again.
“You’re so big and bad, Wolfie.” Her eyes meet mine, still dancing with mischief.
“And territorial,” I grind out, tightening my hold in her hair. Tugging her head back a little further, I can’t help but sink my own teeth into her plump bottom lip before giving in and chasing the taste of her.
Everything falls away the second our lips clash, tongues battling for control. I yank her tight against me, my fingers sinking into the delicious curve of her ass.
Her hands splay on my chest, clutching my pecs as she pushes closer, a cute little sound escaping her.
Groaning in response, I lift her off the floor, every gorgeous inch of her pressing against me, while she devours me.
She tugs on my hair, and I growl against her lips, the need to grind my rapidly hardening cock into her growing by the second.
I don’t give a flying fuck about TSA Pingu, our bags, or even our families right now. I want to sink so deep into her, I never come up for air.
Her drugging kisses have me addicted, and I already know I’m gonna spend my life chasing her high.
“Uhh, Miiiiia?” Mia’s mom calls out.
No. Not fucking now.
“Mia!” Maria’s voice sounds sharper now, breaking us apart. Our eyes stay locked as I slowly slide her back down my body, until her feet touch the ground.
“You’re great at this fake boyfriend shit, Swayze,” she whispers, gripping my shirt tight, her violet eyes a little dazed.
Fake.
One stupid little word.
Four letters that ruin everything.
Breaking eye contact, she shakes her head before looking over at her mom.
“Fuck,” Mia huffs out a breath before shoving off me and hurrying toward the end of the TSA bag check row.
Oh hell, what now?
I glance over at our moms and almost choke on my tongue. Standing in airport security watching a TSA officer wave around what I’m assuming is Mia’s purple eight-inch vibrating—yes you heard me, vibrating—dildo wasn’t on my bingo card for today.
Mia’s cheeks, still flushed from our kiss, are now the exact shade of a tomato while Maria starts educating the TSA agent on the virtues of sexual exploration.
“Surely you’ve seen people traveling with personal massagers before. My daughter has a very stressful job, we’re traveling for her twin’s wedding, and she’ll be seeing her vile cretin of an ex too. Believe me, she’ll need to relieve some stress.”
Jesus fuck.
I walk over to the group gathered at the end of the aisle, slipping my hand around Mia’s waist.
“Kill me now,” she groans, burying her face in my chest.
Ignoring the warmth that spreads through me at her move, I survey the situation in front of me.
Why the fuck does she have a vibrator in her carry-on anyway?
And maybe more to the point, how the hell's it turned on? I thought it was just me in that current predicament.
“Look, here’s her boyfriend. He’s law enforcement, you know?
And I’m sure her taking a massager has nothing to do with his…
performance. Just look at him.” She waves her hands in my direction like she’s moonlighting on the home shopping channel and flashes me a smile.
“Wolfie, my boy, can you tell this nice gentleman to give Mia back her toy so we can go get dinner? We’re starving. ”
My performance.
What the actual fuck?
Did Mia’s mom just insult my dick?
As if that piece of purple crap's any match for me. I know one thing for sure—Mia and I have no problems in that department. We might have only fucked twice, but there’s no way she faked the way she fell apart on my cock.
Just wait until I get her alone. I’ll make her come so hard, her screams will be loud enough to wake the dead.
Except you can’t do that. It’s against your rules.
Son of a bitch, this doesn’t bode well for me. We haven’t even left the country, and I’ve already mauled her in front of airport security and fantasized about her coming on my cock multiple times.
I better get this fake dating bullshit straight in my mind fast because the whole day has already gone to hell. The last thing I need is to complicate it further.
“We usually advise that you have them powered down, ma’am. They can mess with the scanners if they accidentally start vibrating.”
“Well, what if she needs to use it on the plane? We find flying very stressful. These things can work wonders.” I don’t miss the subtle smirk on the TSA agent's face, Maria’s earnest expression and matching hand movements clearly entertaining him.
“I see that, ma’am. Flying can be a very stressful experience if someone’s nervous, but unfortunately, we still can’t have sex toys jumping around in people's carry-ons like this. Should we be aware of anything else in this bag?” He glances between Maria and Mia, whose face is still buried in my chest, waiting.
“No, my daughter’s a good girl, and her boyfriend's a policeman. The only thing she’s guilty of is wanting to relax.”
Mia’s hands tighten in my shirt and I can hear her muffled “Make it stop.”
I take a step closer to her mom, my arm still tightly wrapped around Mia.
“Maria, why don’t you and my mom go find our dads. We can finish up here and meet you.”
Thank fuck, she nods with a smile, shooting a glare at the TSA agent.
“You’re a good boy, Wolfie. Don’t let him throw my baby's toy away. I don’t think they sell them here.” With a pat on my cheek, she strolls off arm in arm with my mom.
I suppress the urge to laugh at the ridiculousness of this entire situation and turn to the agent.
“Apologies sir. We didn’t think it would switch on so easily. Half the time we’re stuck trying to figure out where the damn button is.” I smile at him ruefully, hoping he’ll let us wrap this up quickly.
“You and me, both, sir.” He chuckles, handing me the vibrating cock. “We’ll let it slide this once, but make sure you drain it before you fly back.”
He turns away, shaking his head at a colleague, leaving me brandishing the fucking dildo like a lightsaber. Mia meanwhile, still has her face buried tightly between my pecs while her plastic dick is vibrating my whole entire arm. Loudly.
“Uhhh… Mia… could you turn this thing off so we can put it away? Pretty sure people are starting to wonder what I’m packing down there.”
Trying to ignore the curious looks we’re getting, I squeeze her hip and give her a light pat on the ass. She finally lifts her flushed face from my chest, staring up at me with her lips parted in the most perfect way.
The urge to kiss her again is real. My dick’s stirring—apparently no longer mortified at the purple imposter in my hand—because she looks so damn fuckable right now.
If she keeps staring up at me, people are gonna know exactly what I’m packing.
Nope. Don’t go there.
Think of work.
Mary attempting to kiss you.
Taxes.
The giant fucking cock replacement still vibrating in your hand.
Thank fuck, realization dawns on Mia, eyes widening in horror as she snatches the vibrator, shuts it off, and shoves it back in her carry-on.
Grabbing her bag, I toss it easily over my shoulder alongside mine and hold out a hand to her.
“Let’s roll, Angel, surely it can’t get any worse.” I grin at her, relieved we can finally get the hell out of the security area and away from TSA Pingu, who’s smirking while staring at her again.
He’s pissing me all the way off.
Mia laughs, grabbing my now clenched fist and dragging me away before I lose my ever-loving shit. “Swayze, don’t jinx it. With our track record, I think we know it can.”
She wasn’t wrong. Where should I start with how much worse it got?
Thanks to the #dickgate delays, by the time we found the rest of our families, they called our flight for boarding, so we had no time to even grab a coffee. Instead, we had to run halfway across the terminal to get to the gate.
We had a stranger sitting between us, who refused to move and kept sniffing the most obnoxious smelling salts. They made Mia so nauseous, I thought we were going to end up having a cleanup in aisle twenty situation.
We hit turbulence, which did absolutely nothing to help Mia, and not gonna lie, if I’d managed to grab that coffee, I’m pretty sure I’d have been wearing it.
Manifest was definitely not the TV show to binge so close to flying, that’s for damn sure.
At this point, I’m pretty sure the trip is cursed.
As if the security issues, the stank ass passenger, and the turbulence weren’t bad enough, you wanna know what the worst part was?
Try spending a ten-hour flight avoiding your girlfriend's mom giving you sex hints. No really. She must have been reading Jackie Collins or some shit because she kept catching my eye with a wink, nodding toward Mia and the back of the plane.
Judging by the look she gave me when we landed, I’ve definitely disappointed her by not whisking Mia off to join the mile high club.
Yeah, Maria. You and me both.
What am I supposed to do with that? Talk about fucking awkward.
I’m not sure why Mia hasn’t told her folks about her job because clearly her mom would have zero issue with it.
Lost in thought, I watch the carousel of suitcases, finally spotting Mia’s dark red case—covered in 3D lips, because even her luggage has to be sexy—and haul it off the belt.
After grabbing the rest of our bags, Mia and I trail behind our family, silently walking toward the taxi stands.
The cab needs to hurry the fuck up because I need a shower, a beer, and to be left alone.
Not necessarily in that order.