Managed:a VIP novel(2)

We both glance at my bare feet and the red Chucks lying on the floor. He  shakes his head. "You'll understand that I need to keep my focus on the  search."         

     



 

He flashes a wide-albeit fake-smile, revealing a dimple on one cheek, and I'm breathless. Double damn it.

"Wow." I give a dreamy sigh. "It's even worse when you smile. You really should come with a warning, sunshine."

His smile drops like a hot potato, and he opens his mouth to retort, but the flight attendant is suddenly by his side.

"Mr. Scott, would you like a preflight beverage? Champagne? Pellegrino, perhaps?"

I'm half surprised she didn't offer herself. But the implication is  there in the way she leans over him, her hand resting on the seat near  his shoulder, her back arched enough to thrust out her breasts. I can't  blame the woman. Dude is potent.

He barely glances her way. "No, thank you."

"Are you sure? Maybe a coffee? Tea?"

One brow rises in that haughty way only a Brit can truly pull off. "Nothing for me."

"Champagne sounds great," I say.

But the flight attendant never takes her eyes from her prey. "I really  do apologize for the mix-up, Mr. Scott. I've alerted my superiors, and  they shall do everything in their power to accommodate you."

"Moot at this point, but thank you." He's already picking up his magazine, the cover showcasing a sleek sports car. Typical.

"Well, then, if there's anything you need … "

"I don't know about him," I cut in, "but I'd love a-hey! Hello?" I wave a  hand as she saunters away, an extra sway to her hips. "Bueller?"

I can feel him smirking and give him a look. "This is your fault, you know."

"My fault?" His brows lift, but he doesn't look away from his magazine. "How on Earth did you come to that conclusion?"

"Your freaky good looks made her blind to all but you, sunshine."

His expression is blank, though his lips twitch. "If only I could strike women speechless."

I can't help it, I have to grin at that. "Oh, I bet you'd find that  marvelous; all of us helpless women just smiling and nodding. Though I'm  afraid it would never work on me."

"Of course not," he deadpans. "I'm stuck next to the one afflicted with an apparently incurable case of verbal diarrhea."

"Says the man who is socially constipated."

He stills again, his eyes widening. And then a strangled snort breaks  free, escalating into a choked laugh. "Christ." He pinches the bridge of  his nose as he struggles to contain himself. "I'm doomed."

I smile, wanting to laugh too, but holding it in. "There, there." I pat his forearm. "It will all be over in about seven hours."

He groans, his head lifting. The amusement in his eyes is genuine, and a lot more deadly because of it. "I won't survive it-"

The plane gives a little shudder as it begins to pull out from the gate.  And Mr. Sunshine blanches, turning a lovely shade of green before  fading into gray. A terrified flyer. But one who clearly would rather  the plane actually crash than admit this.

Great. He'll probably be hyperventilating before we level out.

Maybe it's because my mom is terrified to fly as well, or maybe because  I'd like to think Mr. Sunshine's horrible behavior is fear-based and not  because he's a massive dickweasel, but I decide to help him. And, of  course, have a little more fun while I'm doing it.







Gabriel







I'm in hell. It's a familiar place: a long, narrow tube with wobbly  wings. A death trap with five hundred seats, stale air, and droning  engines. I've been here frequently. Only this time, the Devil herself is  my seat partner.

I've been in the entertainment industry long enough to know that the  Devil always appears in an attractive package. Better to lure in  unsuspecting sods. This particular devil looks as though she's stepped  out of the 1950s-platinum blond hair swirling around her cherubic face;  big, pansy brown eyes; red, red lips; and an hourglass figure I'm trying  my best to ignore.

It isn't easy ignoring those tits. Every time she talks, those plush  mounds seem to bounce as if they have a mind of their own. Given that  this strange, gobby girl never shuts up, I'm in danger of being  mesmerized by a fantastic rack of what are surely double-Ds.

God, and she keeps on chattering. Like some nightmare Jabberwocky intent on driving me insane.

"Look, you-" More bouncing tits, red mouth pursing …  "I know your game, and it isn't going to work on me."

I pull my gaze up. "What?"

"Don't you whhhat me with that proper British accent and think I'll fall  for it." A thin finger waggles in front of my nose. "I don't care how  sexy your voice is, it won't work."         

     



 

I will not smile at that. Not a chance. "I have no idea to what you're  referring, but if I were you, I'd seek medical intervention as soon as  we land."

"Pfft. You're pulling this terrified-to-fly act in the hopes that I'll take pity on you."

An ugly feeling crawls up my gut, and I fist my hands so I won't  shout-not that I can get a word in edgewise. She's still at it, spewing  nonsense.

"You think if you sit there, looking petrified and tense, I'll offer a blowjob to distract you from it all."

My humiliation comes to a screeching halt upon hearing the word blowjob. "What?"

"Well, it's not going to happen."

Ignore the cock. Ignore him. He's an idiot. Focus on the problem at hand. "You are deranged. Completely deranged."

"And you are a handsome but crafty bastard. Unfortunately for you, good looks aren't enough. I won't do it."

I lean in close as I dare. "Look, even if I wanted your mouth anywhere  near me, why on Earth would I ask for a blowjob here?" I wave my hand  toward the aisle. "When the entire cabin can see. Who does that?"

"Not me," she shoots back with a disgusted look. "But nice slip of the tongue. You've obviously been thinking logistics."

Must not throttle headcase. Gritting my teeth hard enough to hurt, I  light into her. "Madam, if this death trap of a conveyance were hurtling  toward the Earth in a fiery ball of doom, and your mouth on my cock was  the last bit of sex I'd ever have the chance to receive, I'd take off  my seatbelt and throw myself toward death."

She blinks, those pansy eyes large and owlish and not a bit put out.  "That's a lot of words, sunshine. But I think you're lying. You want it  bad."

My mouth works like a fish, gaping and struggling for air. I cannot  think of a single thing to utter, which is a rarity. I might not  converse with most people, but I'm fully capable of a set down when the  action calls.

Over our heads, a little chime sounds. I glance at it and notice that  the fasten seatbelt sign has been turned off. We're level and steady  now.

By the time I turn my attention back to the she-devil, she has her nose  in a magazine, happily flipping through the pages, a tiny, smug smile  twitching at the corners of her lips.

It hits me like a fist to the gut: she has been, yet again, fucking with  me. She distracted me from takeoff. So effectively, I hadn't even felt  the plane lift. Now I'm stuck between grudging admiration, uncomfortable  gratitude, and a burning need for revenge.

Revenge is the louder voice in my head, and I bite the inside of my  cheek to keep from grinning. Leaning forward, I crowd her space,  ignoring the scent of lemon tart that floats around her.

She tenses right up, her head jerking back, her body bolting straight. I love it.

"All right," I murmur low in her ear, as she shivers and wiggles to get  away. "You caught me. I do want oral satisfaction. Badly. Be a dear and  take the edge off for me?"

She gasps, velvety skin going pale. "Are you kidding me?"

"We already went over this." I reach beneath my seatbelt to undo my actual belt. "I'm in need, and it has to be you."

"Whoa, wait a minute, buddy." Her hand presses against my chest and quickly flinches back, as if the contact burns.

Oddly, it was rather warm, and I still feel the imprint of her hand  through the layers of my clothes. I ignore that too and give her an  exaggerated brow wiggle. "Don't worry. I've a plan. Just pretend you  have a headache and need to rest your head in my lap. I'll put a blanket  over you to block the light. They won't even question your moans that  way."

I get my belt undone, as if I'm going to whip out my cock. "Better yet,  I'll close our seating compartment doors, and we'll have complete  privacy. You can really work me over then."

A strangled sound leaves her. "You … nasty … I don't believe this … "

"Oh, come on, love. Give us a suck, eh? Just a little teasing lick of the tip?"

Shite. I shouldn't have said that. My cock perks up, liking that idea  immensely. Her parted lips are red and soft and full …  Get it together,  you git.

I grin with all teeth, leaning close, even as she flushes bright red. "A  little tug and bob. I'm so tense, it'll only take five or ten minutes  max."