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“Wanna see?” I called to the guy.
He nodded. “Hell yeah!”
I laughed and followed Selena inside. The photographers were stopped by airport security, and so we were safe for the time being.
“Why are you joking with them?” Selena asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Bored, I guess.”
“Well stop,” she said. “It’s embarrassing.”
“What do you care?” I asked, smirking at her.
“Just don’t.” She turned and headed toward the security line.
I sighed, shaking my head. Damn girl was going to be the death of me, I was sure of it.
Her mood didn’t improve on the plane, and I had no idea why. As soon as we were seated, her headphones were on and she was ignoring me. She still didn’t have her own stuff yet, though Livy had sent for it and promised it would arrived when we got to Brown. So everything Selena had, she had because I was generous. And I sure as hell had given her some of the best sex of her damn life. So why was she so damn cranky?
I settled into my first-class chair and ordered a whisky from the stewardess. She brought it and I sipped, leafing idly through SkyMall, thinking about all the stupid shit people spent their money on.
Selena didn’t look at me and I didn’t bother trying to engage her. It was a miserable flight, and all I wanted was for the stupid anger to go away. Plus, we were supposed to be married. It was clear that we weren’t getting along, and what if there was a journalist on the plane?
I was mulling that over for a bit when Selena decided to get up and go to the bathroom. I let her out and watched her fine ass stroll down between the seats.
I knocked back my whisky and followed her a second later, not thinking about it. The stewardesses were busy talking to other passengers, and so when she went to leave the bathroom, I pushed her right back in there.
“Hey! What the hell?” she said. I closed and locked the door. “What are you doing?” she asked again.
“Listen to me,” I growled at her. “I don’t know why you’re so pissed, but we’re married now. So cut it out and smile.”
She stared at me. “You really don’t know?”
“No. You’re just in a bad mood.”
She sighed, annoyed. “No, asshole. Because you didn’t defend me to the paparazzi.”
“What?”
“The dick thing. It was lewd and disrespectful, and you played into it.”
I looked at her for a second. “Fine. You’re right.”
She blinked. “Really?”
“What can I say? You’re fucking right. But you were pissed before that.”
“You were an asshole this morning,” she said.
“Hardly. You were being awkward and I didn’t feel like dealing with that shit.”
“Yeah, well, maybe I am awkward. This is supposed to be a business thing.”
I pressed my body up against hers. We were crammed into that tiny airplane bathroom with nowhere else to go. I could feel her breathing get faster, and my cock was rock hard. I kept thinking about that night, about how fucking nice it would feel to sink my cock in her to the hilt.
“I don’t give a shit about that,” I said. “We fucked and that’s it. You want to be about business? Fine, but I want to feel how soaked you are right now.”
“I’m not,” she said.
I pressed my palm against her stomach and she bit her lip, staring into my eyes. I stared back and slowly pressed my hand down underneath the waistband of her jeans, pressing against her underwear.
“Are you sure you want to do that?” she asked.
“I’m sure as fuck you’re soaked,” I said, finding her pussy.
I was right: she was soaking wet. She took a deep breath as I touched her, softly rubbing her.
“Asshole,” she said. “We can’t do this.”
“No?” I whispered in her ear, slipping my hand under her panties and finding her clit. “You don’t think so?”
“We’re going to get caught.”
“You’re going to come,” I said. “Because you’re fucking begging for it, aren’t you?”
She was breathing deeply, clearly trying not to moan as I began to rub her clit, rough circles on her swollen sex. She was loving it. I could feel her body responding as her hands gripped my arms.
“You love when I rub this clit,” I whispered. “You want me to fuck you rough and hard, but I’m not going to. I’m going to make you come just like this.”
“Nash,” she whispered, “we’re going to get caught.”
“Who fucking cares?” I asked. “The only thing I want is to watch your face while you come on my fingers twenty thousand feet in the air.”
“Fuck,” she gasped as I slipped my fingers deep inside her. “Oh shit, Nash. Fuck. We’re going to get caught. We should stop.”
“We should, but we’re not going to,” I said. “I love this fucking pussy. I love how fucking wet you are. Shit, girl, you’re dripping on my fingers. You want to get off as bad as I want you to.”
