The low hum of the motor almost lulled me back to sleep.
Until the night’s events flashed through my mind like a bad movie.
“Fuck.” Eyes wide, I jumped up.
The man’s arm locked around my waist wrenched backward from my momentum. He’d been cuddling me?
Oh my God.
This wasn’t just a bad movie. It was a trash one. Complete and utter garbage. I scooted off the bed and grabbed my top off the floor of the jet.
The jet!
“Morina, you really fucked up this time,” I grumbled, scrabbling around the room completely naked looking for my bra. It was red. Of all the colors, how could I not find a red bra?
It had been a spur of the moment addition to my outfit last night. I didn’t fluff things and I didn’t dress for clubs, but I’d prepared for some extra fun after my horoscope had said something along the lines of “pleasure awaits you and then death.”
The horoscope had been right about that.
The aftermath I’d thought was my grandmother’s. I’d spiraled. Completely willing to follow my self destruction and pain off the cliff that was Bastian Armanelli last night. Yet, I’m pretty sure this was the death of my self-respect.
I’d jumped on a jet with a questionable guy to get fucked into oblivion.
I had to admit, he’d done it. My daddy fetish was probably at an all time high right now. The way he’d commanded the room and taken everything what he wanted from me but still managed to make me feel good. The man had known what I wanted more than I even did.
Still, it didn’t matter. I wasn’t hanging out with him again. This was not a happily ever after waiting to happen.
This was a shitshow and a half. A walk of shame of the century.
A flight of shame.
As I tried to shove my boobs back into the dumb lingerie that should have fit much better than it did, his sleep-laced, gravelly voice sounded from behind me: “You’re scrambling to get ready like we don’t have to fly at least half an hour back to the airport.”
I froze, trying to calibrate everything he was saying. I wasn’t a morning person, especially after more than a few good rounds of fucking someone during the night and early morning.
“Shit!” I grabbed my panties and wriggled into them. I raced to the front of the jet before Bastian could stop me and found the pilot lounging at the front of the control area. “Can you get us back to the airport in thirty? I have to get home. I think Chet was sending a limo for us. I need to get an Uber back to the hotel.”
He almost fell out of his seat when he turned and saw me in underwear. His wide eyes popped up but within a second they’d flicked back down before Bastian appeared with a sheet and wrapped it around my body.
“Get us back soon, huh?” he said before turning me around and pushing me back toward the private room of the jet.
I rolled my eyes. “Thanks for the sheet, I guess.”
“Better to not scare my pilot,” he murmured, his voice calm, calculating. Almost accommodating. This Bastian was nothing like the one last night who told me to bend over.
“I have to meet Linny back at the hotel,” I explained.
“Do you know what time it is?”
“Well…” I hesitated and glanced out a window. “No, but it feels like it’s late.”
“It feels, Morina?” He chuckled as we re-entered the private suite.
“Yes.” I pulled the sheet tighter, thankful to be covered while I took time to locate my pants. I didn’t need to though. They were folded on the bed where they hadn’t been a minute ago.
I slid my pants and crop top on. “Well, what time is it?”
He glanced at his gold watch. “It’s 8AM.”
I hummed. “Okay, my check out is at eleven. So, we’ll be fine.”
“I could have driven you home,” he said, almost to himself.
“God, no,” I blurted out. Rude. I winced. “I mean, it’s just, I… this was fun.”
“Fun?” He chuckled and lifted a dark brow.
I studied him while he studied me.
Bastian Armanelli was a sight in the middle of a dark night in a suit, a vision on a plane with that suit unbuckled and me on my knees, and he was beautiful watching the sunrise on an island standing with me in the sand. Yet, Bastian with bed head and no shirt on first thing in the morning was a priceless work of art that would be sought after for centuries to come. Women would have called him timeless with his sculpted muscles, strong jaw, full head of dark hair, and broad, strong shoulders. I wanted to lick every part of him.
Instead, I looked away. “Yes, it was fun. I don’t think we could have much more fun than we did, though, right?”
“You so sure?” Ah, there was the real man. He dropped the controlled mask he wore so well and his eyes grazed up and down my body. “For someone who rode my cock all night and screamed my name, you’re sure in a hurry to get back to your regular schedule programming, piccola ragazza.”
I took a deep breath, trying not to be tempted by the Italian falling from his lips. “Bastian, night’s over. Can’t call me that anymore.”
He chuckled. “So, I shouldn’t expect that daddy nickname to continue either?”
I face planted into my palm. “Oh, God. Please, let’s not talk about the night.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s over? I don’t normally have to do this morning exchange.” I straightened my clothes as the jet moved. “And we’re headed back to civilization where you go back to where you came from, and I go back to where I came from.”
“You’re very territorial of this little hometown, aren’t you?”
“Isn’t everyone territorial of their home?”
He thought about it for a minute, and we let the plane take us high into the sky in those moments. The flight attendant didn’t have the audacity to come back and tell us to put our seat belts on. Thankfully, the pilot seemed to navigate the skies well.
“I guess I’m territorial of what I own. A home could potentially be a part of that.”
That was a weird sentiment. I didn’t dive into it, though. It wasn’t my intention to know more about this man. I’d already learned way more than I normally liked to.
The feeling made me itch, made me antsy. Maybe skydiving wasn’t such a bad idea…
I probably did have some sort of commitment problem. I was faced with the sad fact as I sat there knowing I’d be stuck on the plane with him for another twenty minutes.
“So, I’m just going to go sit in the seat up front,” I said almost to myself as I stared down at nothing on my phone.
This was too awkward. I was being forced to basically have a morning after with a one night stand when all I wanted was a quick walk of shame home.
He didn’t come to sit next to me. I heard him answer his phone and breathed a sigh of relief. If he was working, it meant we wouldn’t have to have a morning after conversation. I pulled up horoscopes for the day and started reading mine.
“You’re a Sagittarius,” he murmured, standing over my shoulder.
I jumped and clicked my phone off immediately. “I like to read all of the signs. Not just mine.”
He narrowed his eyes, then motioned for me to scoot over so he could take the aisle seat and I’d be at the window.
I glanced across the aisle and he caught my subtle hint quick enough to take a seat there instead. “I’m guessing we’re not exchanging numbers.”
I fiddled with the edge of my crop top. “I don’t mind.”
I totally did. Normally, men didn’t ask and I didn’t disclose. That was the problem with a jet back home. This was too much time to fill space with unnecessary chitchat.
He smiled at me. “I think you do. It makes me want to ask again for some reason.”
“That’s pretty twisted, Bastian.”
“I agree, especially because I’m in the business of forming connections that everyone feels comfortable with.”
I hummed but didn’t push further. Bastian was in another business dimension that I was sure would kill the cat if it was curious enough.
I’d met my limit with him.
I’d crossed enough limits too.
The plane started to descend and my breathing started to normalize.
“Thanks for the flight to that little unknown island.” I nodded out the window.
“Thanks for watching the sunrise with me,” he said back. “It’s a different type of experience next to a beautiful woman who appreciates it.”
“I think most women would appreciate a flight and a sunrise, Bastian,” I had to say. It’d be absurd for him to think I was the only one.
“You stare at the ocean like a mermaid that belongs there, little girl. It’s a different experience with you.”
“No, I don’t.”
“You don’t?” He crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head as he looked me over. “How would you know? You look at yourself in the mirror every time you’re at a beach?”
I chewed my cheek, trying not to hold back a snide remark. “For someone in the business of connecting with people and making them feel comfortable, you sure don’t have a way with me.”
“We connect differently. That’s for sure.”
I rolled my eyes. “Well, that connection is about to be over.”
He didn’t say anything back. We disappeared into our own phones, our own lives, and our own priorities.
