Landing the Air Marshal (Snowpocalypse) Read online

  Wow. She’d moved from watching a sexy movie to wanting to join the mile-high club with a stranger she’d known for a few hours on a plane. And you know what? It felt pretty damn good to let these dirty thoughts cross her mind. If only Rick could see her now. There wasn’t even a hint of vanilla in her thoughts, and zero chance of her stopping now.

  Who was she, and what happened to the Abby who boarded this plane? Something about Gage made her feel alive, a lit spark in a room filled with kerosene. It was something that she hadn’t realized she needed. Very badly. Maybe it was the whole button-up, tie, and dress pants package, but the more she talked to him, the more she just wanted him sans any clothing.

  “I could show you just how fun it can be.” His warm breath caressed her ear.

  Nobody had ever talked to her like this, which she realized was a crime. A shiver ran down her spine and goose bumps pebbled her skin. She nodded. He was close enough that if she moved an inch, his lips would touch her neck. She’d like his lips there. And other places. “Oh, really?”

  As Gage repositioned himself in his seat, she stole another not-so-discreet glance at him. His honey-colored eyes took in every inch of her as she squirmed in her seat, which did nothing to quell the ache between her thighs—in fact, it intensified tenfold.

  How could eyes be so sexy? Of course, she’d seen guys with nice eyes before—bedroom eyes were a prerequisite in L.A. But not with that jawline, and the perfect amount of bitable scruff. Definitely not paired with those biceps of steel.

  He leaned in close again, his stubble brushing against her cheek. “The thing is—you give off the straight-laced vibe, but I can see right through that.”

  How was it possible to need a complete stranger so badly? She didn’t know him, but that didn’t stop her body’s response. His words, his mouth, his big hands—they were playing her body perfectly, and she wanted to get to the damn crescendo already. She could feel ashamed for her actions after the flight, but heck if she was going to deny herself this opportunity of a lifetime. No more overthinking it like she did every other aspect of her life.

  She cleared her throat, trying to remain cool and unfazed. But hell, this guy was the hot dude holy grail, and she, who had to keep her composure for a living, wasn’t immune to that deep gravelly voice promising nothing but pleasure and trouble. “Is that so?”

  “Yes. Just say the word and my fingers and mouth are yours for the next hour and a half.”

  Right. Thinking too much earned her a first-class ticket to singledom. It was time for a change, and why not start by taking a plunge into the deep end?

  “Yes, I think I’d like that.”

  Gage groaned. He glanced down at his tie and said, “We could always test out my theory.”

  Would it be too desperate to shout “Yes please!” followed by a fangirl squeal? Probably. Instead, she opted for another nod.

  “Does it make you wet watching that man spank her?”

  Her strict, prim and proper upbringing told her that she should be offended by this crudeness, that he deserved a good slap in the face. Instead, need pulsed through her, leaving her hot and restless, her panties completely soaked. From a few words. If he actually touched her? She just might be the female equivalent of a one-minute man. “Yes.”

  “Spread your legs for me.” He pulled a complementary packaged blanket from under the seat in front of him, ripped through the plastic, and placed it over her lap. She glanced at the only other person in first class, three rows up, snoring under a pair of headphones. The flight attendants had already made their rounds, asking if they’d wanted snacks, meal, or drink. There was no one to witness anything that this man did to her—whatever he had planned.

  A thrill shot through her. Oh, she really liked being told what to do. Not having to think, only to obey. His words traveled straight south to the aching space between her legs.

  He worked his way under the blanket and traced a finger over her knee, just below the hem of her skirt.

  Oh my god. This is happening. She wasn’t in Kansas anymore. Her Vanilla Brick Road took a detour straight to mint chocolate chip with hot fudge.

  As he pushed up the fabric of her skirt, his hand paused inches from the aching space between her thighs and he looked up at her through impossibly long lashes. “How bad do you want it?”

  Was she breathing? There was a good chance she’d stopped thirty seconds ago when his hand brushed the top of her knee. She was near asphyxiation at this point. She should really breathe. Sucking in a ragged puff of air, she spread her legs a little wider. Underneath the concealment of the blanket, his wandering hand pushed up her skirt. His fingers inched higher and grazed the edge of her lace panties.

  Abby knocked her head back into the seat, all thoughts of work and business taking a blissful backseat as Gage’s rough hand took control of the situation. Was this real life? Things like this happened in movies, and in the porn her old boyfriend tried to get her to watch one time, with the cheesy 80s music and the guy with a mullet. It grossed her out when she was in her early twenties (the mullet, specifically, but also the porn), but right now, between watching the movie, and Gage’s words, her earlier opinion had swayed. “Really bad,” she whimpered.

  A finger slid over the lace, rubbing her swollen, sensitive skin through the material. Oh. Oh my. Her thighs flexed, and her back arched, her nipples straining against her shirt. The thought that she was throwing caution to the wind just this once, with a man so hot even her imagination couldn’t dream up someone so utterly sexy, made her ache even more. This one time, she’d let herself give up control. She needed this.

  “You’re soaked,” he whispered, his hot breath fanning across her face.

  She should be embarrassed about how wet she was. Or the noise she made when he stated this obvious fact. Instead, she squirmed, the hot need pulsing stronger, driving her to the brink of insanity.

  Everything about this was new to her, which made it that much more exciting. If someone had told her yesterday that she’d let a complete stranger touch her, she’d have gotten a side stitch from laughing her ass off. But something about Gage triggered a switch in Abby, and she wanted motherfucking finger-banging on this motherfucking plane.

  She ground against his palm, seeking relief, trying to be as quiet as she could so the other passenger in first class didn’t wake up and catch on to what they were doing. Had she ever been this turned on? Never. Not even with her own hand and thoughts of her beloved Jensen working her. Then again, when it came to the real men in her life, she tended to be with people who never pushed buttons, none of the good ones, at least. And they never made her want to break her own rules. It only took a couple hours sitting next to Gage to see that maybe this whole letting-go thing was something that she’d needed for a long time. So, for the next hour or so, she’d indulge and then get back to her orderly life when she disembarked the plane.

  “I need you.”

  “Where, sweetheart? What do you need me to do?” His finger teased at the edge of her panties, then his thumb flicked across her clit, and her hips bucked.

  “Work me with your hand. Please.” Even she couldn’t help but notice the plea in her voice. She was in dire need of this man’s hands. This man’s everything.

  She was rewarded with a finger working past the edge of her panties and slipping into her heat. One, then two, fingers entered her, filling her, pushing her to the brink of insanity. She squeezed her eyes shut, letting herself fall toward oblivion.

  “Open your eyes. I want you to look at me while I’m inside you,” he growled in her ear.

  Abby’s lids sprang open, and she turned her head to face Gage. His intense gaze bore into her, pure male appreciation painted across his features. The hint of stubble dotting his jaw and his parted lips were just too delicious a sight to be an idle bystander. She smoothed her hand across his cheek, tracing her way down until she reached his lips, which were as soft as they looked. He leaned down and swept her into a kiss, her mouth
melting into his.

  When his tongue playfully worked its way past her lips, the ache between her legs intensified as she climbed higher, closer toward release. He alternated between pumping his fingers inside her and rubbing her clit.

  He broke away from the kiss. Their gazes met again, and his demeanor changed. He was in tune with her movements. He seemed to be picking up on every cue her body was giving, like he was reading a roadmap to her pleasure, something no other guy had been able to figure out.

  “You know what I’d do to you if we weren’t on this damn plane?”

  She swallowed, not knowing how much more she could take, between that velvety voice caressing her skin and his hand stroking between her legs. Her hips followed his achingly slow movements, his fingers teasing at her entrance, then slipping in, then making a swift swirl across her clit. The motion was maddening. “What?”

  “I’d try out every fucking move from that movie of yours. Show you just what it’s like to lose all that control you hold on to so tightly.”

  Her teeth grated over her lips, and she let out a little whimper. “I think I’d like that.”

  “That pretty little pussy would be mine. You’d do whatever I wanted you to do. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

  “Yes.” Hell yes, she would. This man, so sure of himself, was the key to her pleasure, and she’d give up all control to achieve that.

  “I’d put those tight thighs over my shoulders and take you with my tongue. Get a taste of that pussy.”

  She writhed underneath him, unable to think beyond his words, his breath, his hand. She was losing herself in this man.

  “You’re close. Let it go. Ride my hand.”

  Holy shit. The stars aligned, Venus was no longer in retrograde, and her legs began to quiver. All the pent up stress, the sexual frustration, everything released like an atom bomb as she ground against his hand.

  Just before she had a chance for a moan to rip out of her mouth, his lips crashed against hers, swallowing her cry.

  She was reduced to panting now, didn’t know if she could even form words if she tried. If she never talked for the rest of her life, it was worth it. Ten times over.

  Chapter Four

  If those hot little panting noises continued to come from Abby Winters’ kiss-swollen lips, Gage would fucking lose it. The way she’d tightened around his fingers, so responsive, so…hot, it reverted him back to his teenage self, the one who would have lost it with the touch of a light breeze. What was it about this woman that made him lose all self-control? Even in the span of a few hours, Gage could tell that Abby was different than most girls he brought back to his hotel room. The way she held herself, the Hollywood attitude—it called to him like a siren song. His dick throbbed painfully against his pants just in time for the flight attendant to traipse through the black velvet curtains.

  “Is everything all right here?” Blondie looked at Abby, her expression wary.

  “Just having a bit of flight fright,” he said. He flashed a smile to the flight attendant, and her hesitant gaze softened.

  She pushed a strand of blond hair behind her ear and smiled, biting her lip playfully. “Okay. If you need anything, I’m at your service.” He didn’t miss the hint in her voice or the slight lift in her brow. She walked down the aisle with an exaggerated sway in her hips.

  The flight attendant didn’t earn a second thought, though, because the need driving him to the point of insanity was directly tied to the brunette in the seat next to him. The two fingers on his right hand were still soaked from the orgasm he’d coaxed out of her, and if not for the thought that it would horrify Abby, he’d plop them in his mouth and suck them dry just to see if she tasted as good as he imagined.

  “That was…” Abby shifted in her seat, repositioning the blanket over her thighs. “Wow.”

  Fuck yeah. He’d been a little rusty, but it looked like he still had it. “You’re welcome.” He smirked. Something about the way she didn’t act disgusted with what he’d just done—maybe it was a southern belle thing, but every girl his mom tried to send his way acted offended at the slightest hint of impropriety. Abby oozed sexuality. It practically seeped from her pores.

  She sank against him, completely sated. If he had more time, he’d get to know each and every inch of that body. As it was, they had less than an hour and a half. They continued watching the movie, his hands playfully teasing along the inside of her thigh.

  They’d moved into this guy’s kink room, filled with every toy imaginable.

  “Anything in there look good?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. I’ve never tried any of those.”

  He loved her honesty about the whole situation. The girl had no shame. Definitely deprived, but all that needed was a little coaxing on his part. There was a sex goddess under there just waiting to be unleashed.

  “You need to rectify that. Seriously.”

  Jesus, he needed to reel himself in before he carried her off the plane, took her to the nearest adult store, and showed her a night of illicit experimentation in his hotel room.

  She melted into his touch as he continued to tease her skin with his fingers. “I like when you touch me.”

  “Yeah? Where exactly?” He moved his fingers up her thigh. “Here?”

  She shook her head.

  He moved them up another inch. “Here?”

  Another shake.

  “Or were you talking about this sweet little spot.” Damn it all to hell, she was still soaked.

  “Mmhmm.” She bit down on her lip, and Gage couldn’t help but think how damn good that sweet mouth of hers would feel running along the expanse of his throbbing cock.

  “I’d love to repay the favor.” Her eyes still held that glassy, dreamlike quality as her hands worked over the top of Gage’s pants. Her nails raked across the length of his cock, and he sucked in a breath through clenched teeth.

  Just as her fingers loosened the button of his pants, the captain came over the speakers and announced that they’d be landing within forty minutes. Abby went from languid to tense in seconds.

  It reminded Gage of how they had gotten into this particular predicament in the first place. He’d seen a lot of passengers with flight anxiety, even some who made good use of the complimentary barf bag, but hers seemed to top the charts. By the time they started their final descent, sweat dotted her hairline, and her contented smile morphed into a tight line.

  “Hey, listen to me.” He took her hand that was in his lap and gave it a squeeze. “I’ll get you through this landing. I want you to look at me.”

  “How do you know we’ll make it? This could be the one time that the wheels don’t come out in time. Or maybe there’s ice on the tarmac.” Her voice lilted up on the end, almost to the point of hysteria. If he was going to talk her down from this, he needed to do it quickly.

  “There isn’t ice on the tarmac.” His gaze held hers, not giving her the option to focus on anything but him. “Tell me about your job. Tell me about this penthouse you’re going to.” That was one thing he’d learned from his training. He knew what every bump and every jolt meant in terms of the flight. Meaning, he knew not to be concerned until he heard the pilot say oh shit.

  She swallowed hard. “I have to make this penthouse work. If it does, then I have a good shot at getting promoted. It’s between me and my coworker.” Her faced screwed in disgust. “He’s a weasel, and his nose is permanently stained brown from kissing my boss’s ass, trying to get this position.”

  He frowned. Hated that society worked that way. He’d seen it happen to his sister time and time again after she’d had Emily. Just because she’d taken time off to raise her daughter, she kept getting passed over for jobs even though she was more qualified than her male counterparts. “Sounds like a prick.”

  “He is.” A smile ticked at the corner of her lips, and Gage felt a small thrill that he was able to take her mind off her fear for at least a couple seconds. It rivaled the feeling he’d had when
he apprehended a suspect on a flight to Tahiti, who had stolen a knife out of the attendants’ tiny kitchen area.

  “Tell me, what’s your favorite flower.” Random enough of a question to keep her mind running, but easy enough that she’d be able to answer. The key to getting someone’s mind off their fear was to make them think—throwing them off guard a bit in order to break that cycle of anxiety.

  “Sunflowers. Yellow’s my favorite color.”

  That surprised him a bit. He’d expect something elegant. Expensive. An iris, or calla lilies. “Personally, I like dandelions.”

  She looked at him incredulously. “Out of all the flowers out there, you like a weed?”

  “What other flower can you make a wish on?” When he was home in Charleston, he’d take Emily out by the boardwalk where a whole field of dandelions dotted the grass. They’d spend the afternoons picking the flowers and making wishes—hers focused on new Barbies and Shopkins, and his he kept firmly locked away, not willing to admit them aloud, even to a fucking weed.

  She eyed him suspiciously. “Somehow you don’t strike me as the wishing type.”

  “Says the person with the four-leaf clover earrings.” He smirked, and a bit of tension eased from her grip on his hand. “What did you say before? Looks can be deceiving.”

  “Touché.”

  She seemed less stressed until they hit a few bumps during the landing, when she gripped his hand with crushing strength and closed her eyes.

  “It’s going to be okay. See, we’re already on the ground now. No need to worry.”

  She opened her eyes and relief poured over her features. “Thank fuck,” she muttered.

  Gage couldn’t help but laugh. He loved that she didn’t hold back. Loved how she was obviously all woman, but dirty words coming out of her mouth twisted his gut with desire. He’d love to see just how many expletives he could coax out of her as he pounded her from behind.