It also has me sensing a playfulness I haven’t felt in years.
With my eyes locked on Isabelle’s dilated gaze, I nudge my head to the man seated across from us. Just like every other traveler in this section of the plane—excluding Isabelle—he’s formally dressed. Does his pricy suit make him more noble than Isabelle? Not at all. He has almost an entire drumstick lodged down his throat, and I’ve yet to hear him gag. They say you can tell a lot about a man by the way he eats, but it appears as if this man didn’t get the memo he’s supposed to showcase his skills on ice cream.
Realizing I’m getting off track, I push out like it’s no big deal, “He’ll need to replenish his wallet before he goes on the prowl tonight.”
Isabelle’s jaw hits the floor as her seductive scent increases. “You didn’t… you wouldn’t… you can’t ask someone to borrow a condom, can you?”
I take a few moments to relish the fear bounding out of her before replacing it with lust. “I’m joking, Isabelle.” My breaths tickle her sweat-slicked neck when I mutter, “You would have just had to ride me bareback.”
When hope gleams into Isabelle’s eyes long before worry, it’s the fight of my life to sink back to my side of our conjoined seats. It’s only accomplished because we’re still being watched by the freaks in the seats across from us.
I’m all about winning, but since anyone but me seeing Isabelle’s ecstasy-riddled face would be classified as a loss, I press down on the brakes, slowing my race to the finish line even more than Isabelle’s ill-timed period.
“Give me your eyes, Isabelle.” The multiple funds in my bank accounts seem inconsequential when Isabelle jumps to the snapped command in my tone. Even with fear encroaching her from all angles, my thick timbre is all that is needed to pull her out of the storm unscathed.
“Concentrate on anything but your fear,” I suggest when the plane’s rapid descent has her on the verge of a panic attack. “My voice. The wine sloshing in your stomach since you preferred a liquid dinner instead of food. How I’m going to replace the bitemarks in your bottom lip with my teeth.”
I wasn’t meant to say my last sentence out loud, but I’m grateful I couldn’t hold back when Isabelle sucks in the quickest breath. It isn’t dense enough to fill her lungs with air, but it will save her from passing out.
“Then, once I’ve finished with your mouth, I’ll shift my focus a couple of inches lower.” When the back of my hand follows the lowering of my eyes, Isabelle’s nipples bud. They press against the thin material of the white t-shirt she’s wearing and have my astuteness teetering on a very rocky cliff edge.
Isabelle’s chest rises and falls as fast as it didwhen the captain announced we were about to commence descent, but now it’s more in the hope her erect nipples will connect with the hand I’m hovering a mere inch away from her chest. She’s still scared, but the needs of her libido have outranked the fear clutching her throat, proving my assumption was accurate. You can get a woman to do just about anything when lust is clouding her judgment.
“Eyes, Isabelle,” I demand again, a mere second before I brush the back of my hand down her chest, growling when the scent of her pussy engulfs more than my nostrils. It has my senses on lockdown too.
We breathe as one for the next several seconds when my spare hand scrubs at the throb in her throat. I could clutch it like I did earlier, but just having my hands on her in some way has her completely oblivious to how close we are tolanding. The wheels are down, the air hostesses are strapped in, and I’m so fucking hard, walking off this plane is going to be mighty uncomfortable.
“What time are we meeting Saturday, Isabelle?” She requested that I call her Izzy earlier when our meals were served, but I prefer her full name. Her nickname represents her playful side, but that isn’t what I want. I want her unguarded. Real. Almost raw. I want her how no one else has had her, and if my intuition is anything to go by, that will require more than one night beneath the sheets.
“Ten o’clock,” Isabelle answers, shocking me that she can talk through the panic gripping her senses.
“And what are you to wear?”
A lusty gleam flares through her eyes when her lips curve upward. “A dress.”
“Minus…” I lean closer to her. So close, there’s no denying we’re sharing the same breaths.
“Minus…” she pauses as long as I did, bringing the tension teeming between us from an eight to an eleven, “… any panties.”
Her submissiveness might be even more seductive than her eyes. There’s no greater sensation in the world than being handed someone’s power willingly, so you can imagine how chomping at the bit I am to accept the scarce bit Isabelle is already handing over.
With our eyes locked and our lips almost touching, the pilot executes the perfect landing. We barely skid for two seconds before the tires grip the asphalt, and victory sparks the biggest smile out of Isabelle.
Unlike during takeoff, it isn’t me whoyanks back this time around. Isabelle does. She’s so eager to get out of the ‘death trap’ she is convinced will claim her life one day, she tosses off her seat belt, climbs over my lap like my cock isn’t pitching a tent, snatches her jacket and hideously ugly satchel out of the overhead bins of the seat behind us, then strays her eyes to me. “Are youcoming, Mr. Holt?”
You didn’t hear that wrong. It sounded as provocative as you believed.
Isabelle has excess adrenaline to burn, and her period is ruining everything.
“Lead the way, Ms. Brahn.” Since my voice is as seductive as hers, she misses my slip up of her last name. It’s for the best. That conversation could only end one way—awkwardly.
I haven’t chased this hard in years, and my last victory didn’t end well, so I’m confident you can understand my reluctance to pursue Isabelle with the same intensity. Alas, it seems as if one glance into Isabelle’s chocolate-brown eyes annihilates all my astuteness and don’t get me started on the yearning it instigates.
The friction that built between us during our flight duplicates as we make our way down the gangway side by side. We’re surrounded by hundreds of other passengers, but my eyes only ever glance one way.
Isabelle doesn’t seem to mind my gawk. Anytime she catchesit, her lips part to suck in much-needed breaths before they curl into a smile. Her concealed grins have me watching her even more intently.
Once we reach the end of the departure gate, Isabelle spins around to face me. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Holt.”
