The flight is surprisingly empty. I mean, there are people scattered here and there, but the business class section at the front has only us and two other people, a man in a suit who’s already steadfastly focused on his laptop and an older woman who’s already snoring. The flight attendant hasn’t even done her pre-flight safety speech yet.
I sit next to Elle, enjoying her excitement as she looks out the window. She watches the ground crew bustling around and then watches the ground disappear far below us as we find our cruising altitude high in the sky.
Her blonde ponytail whips back and forth as she tells me to look out the window. When she looks out again, I don’t do as she asked. The better view is right next to me.
Elle looks beautiful. Stunning, really, even dressed for travel in fashionable trainers, leggings that make her ass look positively grabbable, and a soft top that hugs her curves and drapes tantalizingly over her breasts. It’s perfectly proper, but that doesn’t stop my mind from wanting to spread the V-neck wide and lift her tits out to feast upon.
I can’t help myself. I take her hand, interlocking our fingers. I can feel the softness of her thigh against the back of my hand, begging me to move higher . . . higher.
The flight attendant stops beside us, offering drinks. Elle starts to say something, but I interrupt her. “Nothing for now, thank you.”
The flight attendant’s perfectly sculpted brows don’t even move. I’m sure she’s seen way worse than a slightly rude and pretentious flyer. Elle, on the other hand, looks ready to slice and dice me when the cart continues on its way.
“Excuse you. I wanted a water bottle. I have a per diem and I intend to use every last penny of it, Mr. Wolfe.”
“There’s a one-liter bottle in your bag. I bought it at the airport shop for you, remember? And besides, I have something else in mind now that we’re alone for a while.”
“Alone?” she scoffs, looking around. “We’re on an airplane with tons of other people.”
I don’t turn around but estimate anyway. “There are two others in business class with us, and maybe sixty others in coach. Poor sods, their knees are going to be pained after this long of a flight.”
Elle fakes a British accent, making fun of me. “Poor, unfortunate souls. They should’ve splurged and gotten the comfy seats like I did.” She places a hand to her chest and slathers the entire thing in ‘entitled brat’ tones. “You sound like a bougie ass.” Back to her own sass for that dig.
Frowning, I explain. “That’s not what I meant at all. I meant that there are fewer witnesses, and now the flight attendant will be at the back of the plane for a bit.”
There’s that light in her eyes. “Witnesses? For what?”
I lean in close, getting intimately in her space, even though no one will overhear me. “Have you ever heard of the mile-high club?”
Her eyes widen, knowing exactly where I’m going with this. “Yes, and I won’t be joining today. Our first time will not be at thirty-seven thousand feet or whatever the captain said.”
I can taste the victory already, though. “First time? So you’ve already thought about it? Thought about a second and third time too, haven’t you?” Her smirk is answer enough, so I press on.
“And now, you’re thinking that doing something a little crazy, a bit unexpected might be just right for our first time. It does seem rather suited for us, don’t you think? Your sneaking into the lavatory but leaving it unlocked, the race of your pulse as I come in and lock the door behind me. Our eyes locked in the mirror as I spread your shirt wide and pull your luscious tits out, fondling them in the mirror while you watch. You’d feel my cock against your ass and reach back to cup me, driving me wild. I’d push your trousers and knickers down . . . are you wearing panties today, Elle?”
It’s a test to see how hooked she is. When she silently nods, her breath hitched, I know this is happening. But the lead up is so delicious that I continue our verbal foreplay. I let go of her hand, flipping mine so that my palm rests high on her thigh, almost to the crease where it joins her body.
“You’d spread these lovely legs for me, letting me test your wetness. You’d be soaked for me, so hungry and ready for my cock.” My pinkie finger glances over the seam of her leggings, and I groan deeply at the heat I can feel there. Elle matches my groan.
“You’d have to be so quiet, not making a sound as I play with your clit and slip my fingers inside you, stretching you to take me. But it’d be so hard to hold those cries of pleasure back as I made you come all over my hand. Then I’d press my cock against you, letting you coat me in your cream before I fill you up. Right there, pressed against the vanity, your eyes and mouth open wide in pleasure as I fuck you for the first time at thirty-seven thousand feet until we both come.”
She shudders against my hand, where I’m openly cupping her now. “And then we’ll return to our seats, smelling like sex, with no one the wiser.”
Her eyes are clouded with lust and need, and I consider just rubbing her off right here. That’s another fantasy altogether, making her come in public, even though there’s no one around. But I want inside her too badly.
I know that she’s using me and the dares to rebel against her father, to feel free and alive. In a way, I’m using her as a distraction from the hell that we’ll face when we get off this plane, the one I haven’t told her about yet. But even in the face of those pressures, the truth is . . . I just want her. Not because of her dad or the proposals, not because my family is awful and I’m nervous about subjecting Elle to their particular brand of manipulation.
But because she’s amazing and lovely and makes me feel alive.
So I do it. The one thing I know will push her over the edge of sanity and reason. Because I’m already there, in this world of her creation where rules don’t apply, consequences don’t happen, and we can be free.
“I dare you . . . go to the lavatory and wait for me, Elle.”
Her head lolls back and she rolls it to look at me. “I kinda hate you right now.” Her body says she’s lying.
I kiss her hard, pushing my tongue into her mouth, and she meets me stroke for stroke with her own. Her hips lift against my hand too. Fucking hell, maybe I will just get her off here, swallowing any sounds she makes, because she’s primed on the edge.
She pushes against my chest, and I break the kiss with a growl. “Excuse me, sir. Be right back.” She works her way out of her seat, shoving her ass in front of my face.
Holy shit, I can smell her arousal and my mouth salivates to taste her. My cock tells my mouth to wait its fucking turn because the only thing getting a taste of her right now is hard as a fucking rock between my legs.
She doesn’t look back as she walks the few steps up the aisle to the lavatory. I consider for a split second that she might be leaving me high and dry, going in there to get herself off, but I don’t hear the tell-tale click of the lock and my cock surges in my trousers.
I force myself to count to thirty and then adjust myself before getting up to follow. Walking is painful, but I manage without limping or coming in my pants like a teenager.
“Colt—” she says as I sneak into the washroom, but I cut her off, kissing her quickly and claiming her body with my hands. She melts against me, pushing into my kiss as my touch unlocks any remaining doubts inside her.
“Remember, quiet,” I whisper in her ear before nibbling on the delicious lobe. She whimpers, her soft breasts flattened against my hard chest, but I can feel the hard tips of her nipples. She runs her hands up my chest and around my neck, holding me close as she pulls herself up to my ear this time.
“Just do it. Just fuck me already. I dare you.” The words are needy moans, and she tells me how much she means it when she spins in place, a very tight fit in the small space, and pushes her ass back toward me.
She pushes at her leggings, lowering them and her knickers at the same time until the full lushness of her ass greets me. If there were room, I’d bow down and kiss her, eat her pussy out from behind. But there’s no space, no time for that right now. But I can grab her cheeks, so I do. Cupping the flesh in my greedy hands, I knead her.
“Going without you, Mr. Wolfe.” Her right hand leaves its balancing perch on the sink and drops between her thighs. I can’t see her hand in the mirror, but I can tell she’s rubbing her clit and it lights a fire inside me.
“Fuck, Elle. Wait for me, damn it.”
I grab a condom out of my wallet and then let my trousers and boxers fall. One quick stroke of my cock and then I’m rolling the condom on. Elle is bucking against her fingers, her luscious ass bumping against me and not helping matters in the least. But at last, I’m sheathed and lined up as she arches for me.
“You ready?” I ask her. In the mirror, her cheeks are stained pink, her eyes at half-mast with pleasure, and her bottom lip puffy from where she’s biting it to stay quiet. Her nod is sure, her body certain of its answer.
I don’t dally. No, I slam into her in one forceful thrust, bottoming out as she goes tight as a wire. Every muscle clenches, and I can feel her pussy clamping down on my cock. Her free hand claws at the mirror over the sink, and her mouth opens in a silent scream. Actually, not so silent.
I cover her mouth with my palm, growling in her ear to be quiet. She nods and kisses my palm, so I keep it there.
We don’t have time for sweet and tender, slow and leisurely, and I don’t think either of us even wants that right now, anyway. This moment has been building between us, and like a match to kerosene, we ignite instantly.
Trying to be quiet, I pound her, our bodies pumping together with hard, violent thrusts that thrill every nerve inside our bodies. My hips ache I’m fucking her so hard, but Elle takes it, begging me silently for more.
“Take your tits out for me. Let me see you.” One hand stays on the mirror for leverage, the other leaving her clit to work the wide V-neck of her shirt off her shoulders and then lift her breasts out of her bra. The bra acts as a shelf, setting her tits up in a sexy frame that lets me see her pearled-up nipples. They bounce hypnotizingly with every thrust of my cock into her sweet pussy. “Beautiful girl.”
Her hand drifts back to grip my hair, nearly pulling it out at the roots, but I don’t give a single fuck as long as I can stay inside her. The reach back makes her body bow, letting me in even deeper, and we both reach the edge of what we can take.
“Come for me, Elle. Come all over my cock. Right now.” The words are spat from between my gritted teeth, barely formed whispers.
She whimpers and lets go of her death grip on my hair to press my palm against her own mouth tighter. She’s crying against the flesh, knowing she’s being too loud but unable to stop it as I feel her pulse around me. Her quivering walls milk my cock, pulling every bit of cum from me as my balls pull up tight.
She droops, exhausted and spent, and I hold on to the condom as I pull out of her. “Oh, my God, that was . . .”
I arch a brow at her in the mirror, waiting for her to find the words, but she shakes her head. “I can’t even find adjectives. You fucked my vocabulary out of my head.”
I tie off the condom, tossing it in the trash and handing Elle a couple of paper towels to clean up. “Might I suggest fantastic, amazing, incredible, brilliant?”
Elle smirks, throwing the messy towels in the trash. I like that it’s not awkward or fake, either of us pretending that sex is this neat and tidy thing. Hell, I’m rinsing my meat and two veg in the sink while she watches, for fuck’s sake.
“You have a pretty high opinion of yourself, it seems.” The tease is light and bantering.
I dry off, slipping back into my boxers and trousers as Elle rights her own clothes. I place a smacking kiss on her mouth, murmuring against her lips. “I was talking about you, love.”
She blushes, looking pleased as punch with herself. And with me.
“How long have we been in here? What degree of walk of shame are we talking about out there?”
“There’s a scale?” I inquire, thinking that perhaps I missed this bit of Americana.
“Oh, yeah.” Elle nods definitively. “One to five, one being the worst. Five is just an awkward ‘I’ll call you’ when you both know that’s not going to happen. Maybe that’s bumped to a four if the sex was bad too. A one is full-blown morning after, in your party dress from the night before, walking through the frat house as the entire pledge group offers to make you breakfast and complements your singing ability.”
She shrugs as if it’s no big deal. “I was a little loud in my drunken state, apparently. I might’ve yelled yeehaw at one point? Tiffany and I went to a country bar a few times.”
She looks as though she’s evaluating what she might or might not have done on this apparently not-all-that-hypothetical story that illustrates a level-one walk of shame.
Part of me wants to laugh at the outrageousness. Part of me wants to travel back in time and destroy any man who ever had sex with her or heard her having sex. The Neanderthal urge is a weird, foreign thing for me. I’m usually more casual, or at least I have been in my own relationships. Which haven’t ever been anything serious. But there’s some jealousy in my core, a greediness in my gut. I want to know her stories. I want to be in her stories. All of them.
“Well, I think we’re safe. Probably not more than ten minutes in here, and no one seemed the wiser when I came in.”
“Ten minutes? I’ve played seven minutes in heaven that weren’t remotely this good. Maybe your high opinion of yourself . . . and me . . . is warranted, after all.”
I like this. The playful lightness she brings to every situation. Even sex in an airplane lavatory.
“I’ll go first, make sure the coast is clear. You follow in a couple, okay?”
Elle nods, and I make my escape. As I suspected, no one even looks this way as I sit back down. Elle slips in a few minutes later, her ponytail a little tighter and her skin glowing.
“How’s everyone doing?” The flight attendant has made her way back to the front of the plane and is standing at my side. I nod politely, and she holds out two water bottles. I take them, slightly confused, and then she pulls two wet wipes and two tiny bags of pretzels from her pocket. “These flights do get rather long and boring, don’t they? We have about eight hours to go, so stay hydrated.”
Elle goes stiff next to me, so I jump in to defer any weirdness. “Thank you. We are feeling peckish, I guess. And a good nap is probably a good idea.”
“Would you like a blanket?” Her face is perfectly impassive, not a sign of anything untoward, but it’s quite obvious that our field trip to the lavatory didn’t go wholly unnoticed.
“No, thank you. I think we’re fine now.”
The flight attendant nods and walks off. I look to Elle, not sure where this is going to rank on her scale now, but instead of mortification, she’s fighting back giggles.
“Oh, we are so busted.”
I find that I don’t care in the slightest.
