Yet she wanted to feel him deep inside her; she wanted him to fill her in the way only a man could. This was what she wanted: this man, on her terms. She started this, and she was going to finish it.
She realized with a jolt that she didn’t even know this man’s last name, didn’t even know where he lived and yet here she was, kissing the life out of him, feeling him pressed against her in the cramped space, his need for her growing firm against her belly. Yes, this is what she wanted. Right here. Right now. Quick, dirty, practically anonymous. Two animals doing what animals do best. For once in her hectic life, she could switch off her anxious brain, focus on this, on this one thing, the man’s mouth on hers, his body strong, muscled, in front of her.
He broke free of their kiss, panting, and then whirled her around, and hoisted her up on the tiny edge of the bathroom sink as if she weighed nothing, and suddenly she realized how strong he really was, how compact and powerful his muscles must be. She met his blue-eyed gaze and felt desire pool between her legs. She’d wanted him the moment she’d seen him, and now she’d have him. I’m an animal in heat, running on pure instincts, pure need. He found the waistband of her stretchy leggings, pulling them downward to reveal her secret: she wore no underwear.
His hands slinked up her leg, finding her bareness. He grinned, eyebrow risen in a question. Normally, she went commando for comfort, but now she realized he put a different meaning on this altogether. “Well, well,” he murmured, surprised, as his fingers roved deeper, gently caressing the bundle of nerves sitting taut there, sending her heart racing as they slipped across her slick center. “Did you come here ready for this?”
She wanted to tell him she’d never done this before, not ever, but her throat closed up, and she couldn’t manage words. Not here, not with his lips so close to hers. The hard truth was she’d never done anything close to this: sex with a stranger, on an airplane or anywhere public, for that matter. Mile High Club? It was never a membership she’d ever sought, or ever thought she’d gain.
His finger slipped inside her then, and she gasped as he penetrated her, his touch driving her wild as she realized he now understood just how much she wanted him, how wet he’d made her.
“Yes, you came ready,” he murmured and she realized the truth in his statement. She felt like she’d always been ready for this. For him.
Her heart hammered in her chest. She’d never had a man like this—hot, heavy, urgent. The fear of being caught rippling through every moment, the naughtiness of breaking the rules turning every caress into white-hot desire. She’d always been the girl who insisted on dinner first, on a whole host of hurdles a man would have to clear before she’d ever let him even see her underwear. But now, here, on this plane, with this stranger, she was going to give him everything, right here. Right now. No strings. No obligations.
Maybe this was what she needed all along. Dirty, quick sex with a stranger, where she didn’t have to be the prim and proper consultant, the suit-wearing professional she played all day. Here, she could be who she wanted to be: a woman who would take a man where and when she pleased; a woman who was sitting on a bathroom basin counter, legs spread and half-naked, a hard pulse thrumming inside her.
Any minute the flight attendant could knock on the door. Or another passenger. They were doing this here, in a place they could easily get caught. At any time. Yet she felt strangely...free. She felt alive, for the first time in a long time. She was doing something wrong, but it felt so right. This was her choice. And it was delicious.
He worked his fingers inside her and she laid her head back, cracking against the mirror near the sink as she let out a low groan of appreciation, her hips moving in time with his hand. It felt so good. No, scratch that, amazing. He might just make her come right here. She groaned, louder, her need taking over.
Did anyone hear that? she wondered. Was someone, right now, listening against the door? Did she even care?
He inched back in the tight space and she lunged for his fly, eager to free him, eager to do this. He claimed her mouth again and she moaned once more, the rush of need, a tsunami of desire, flooding all her senses. She freed him then, heavy, hard and smooth in her hands. Yes, this was what she wanted. Him, all of him, inside her. To hell with consequences. Because chances were, they’d never meet again. Hell, she didn’t even know his full name and she held him, his most intimate part, in her hands. Impressive, too. Wide. On the north side of average, and oh, so very, very ready for her.
He groaned as she wrapped her hands around him, as she felt the proof of his need. He wanted her as much as she wanted him. She felt giddy suddenly, powerful, as she clutched him in her hands.
This was going to happen. She could barely believe it. She’d only just met this man, a random stranger who’d sat next to her on the emergency exit row, and now she was about to take him inside her, a place only a handful of men had ever gone in her whole life. She glanced at his blue eyes, that sexy, squared-off chin. Yes, she wanted him. So badly. No regrets. Not for this.
He nudged against her, his bulging tip pressing against her most tender of places, the promise of pleasure, of pure animal lust, of precious, sweet release. She’d held the reins so tightly in her life, so taut, and now she’d let go. She’d let everything go, as she clutched his shoulders, her core aching for this, to be filled, to be stretched, to be taken to new heights as this tin bird glided through the clouds, the ground thousands of feet below them.
“You ready?” he asked her, rubbing the tip of him against her once more, sending a wave of urgent want thrumming down her legs to her knees.
“Yes,” she whispered, hoarse, her nails digging into his shoulders. She’d never been more ready in her life.
Two hours earlier
JULIANA HATED BEING LATE. She jogged through the terminal at JFK Airport, past the dads pushing strollers and the sunburned college kids headed home from spring break and prayed she made it to her gate before they shut the doors. She had to make this flight, the last flight home to Chicago. She promised her sister she’d be there for her birthday dinner tomorrow, but with her never-ending consulting work for the Blue Sky project, she’d been AWOL for weeks, crisscrossing the country to evaluate the nation’s biggest airline. She would’ve been on time, except traffic had been monstrous, even more so than usual around JFK. And then her smart watch dinged with an incoming text. She glanced down at it.
Garrison had texted.
We need to talk.
Juliana groaned. She didn’t have time for her boss right now. He could wait. She rushed through the airport, her trim, rolling carry-on spinning behind her, her dark hair, normally up in a tight bun, begging to spring loose as she bounded through the terminal. If she didn’t make that flight...she’d have to wait a whole day for the next one, and she badly needed that day to write her report—which she couldn’t start until she’d evaluated the airline’s service on this route.
She headed to the gate and saw a worker in a Blue Sky uniform—blue-and-white scarf, and dark navy pantsuit—standing at the gate. Thank goodness!
She arrived, panting, and held out her ticket. “Just...made it,” she said, gasping.