The Ending I Want

by Samantha Towle

  “I do have my own plane, but it’s in London. And if I’d sat in first-class, then I wouldn’t have sat next to you, and I wouldn’t have gotten that awesome kiss. And you and I wouldn’t be heading back to my place the moment we land, so I can make you come.”

  True. But still…

  “If I owned this plane, I’d be sitting in first-class.”

  “First-class doesn’t interest me. You, on the other hand…you interest me a lot.”

  He interests me a lot, too. Especially his tongue and hot body.

  “And I leave first-class seats to the paying customers. Also, why would I want to move when I have first class sitting right next to me?”

  I fight a smile. “Your pick-up lines are terrible. Anyone ever tell you that?”

  He gives me a mock-offended look. “I haven’t had any complaints before.”

  “I don’t think it was your pick-up lines they were after. And I don’t mean your money either.”

  “You’re referring to my big cock?” He deadpans.

  I laugh. He’s so confident…and honestly, it’s a huge turn-on.

  “I guess I’ll know the answer to that question later,” I say softly.

  “Yes, you will.”

  Holy…shivers.

  Then, something occurs to me.

  “How old are you?” I ask him.

  I know for sure that he must be older than me, but he doesn’t look that old.

  “Why?” He eyes me suspiciously.

  “Just wondering.”

  “I’m thirty-two. Your turn.”

  Wow. He’s ten years older than me. How hot is that?

  But it might not be hot to him that I’m younger.

  “I don’t know if I should tell you…” I bite my lower lip. “You might change your mind if I do.”

  His expression freezes. “You’re not seventeen, are you?”

  “Fuck no.” I laugh. “I’m twenty-two.”

  “Thank fuck for that.” He exhales, his face relaxing.

  “You are ten years older than me though. An older man. Like a sexy sugar daddy.”

  He chokes out a sound. “I’m thirty-two, not fifty-two. And call me a sugar daddy again, and I’ll be rescinding the oral invitation.”

  I laugh. For real. It’s loud and happy, and it feels alien. I can’t remember the last time I laughed like this.

  It was before my family died.

  But he did that. He made me laugh, and he’s made me smile a ton.

  And he’s going to do so much more—with his tongue on the most intimate part of me.

  Oh God, I can’t wait.

  I’m going back to Liam Hunter’s place to have sex.

  Liam Hunter, the gazillionaire businessman, who owns airplanes, credit card and finance companies, hotels—crap, I’m even staying in one of his hotels—and so much other stuff that I can’t even remember. And he’s older than me, which is just so incredibly sexy because he must be all experienced with sex.

  This is going to be amazing.

  I’m going to be tongue-fucked by Liam Hunter, and I cannot wait.

  God bless, England.

  It’s seven thirty in the evening when we land in London.

  I’m in England.

  I can’t believe I’m actually here.

  I pull my carry-on out from underneath the seat in front of me and hang it on my shoulder while I wait for Liam to get his bag and jacket out of the overhead compartment.

  Standing in the walkway, he lets me out first.

  I can feel him at my back as we exit the plane with other passengers.

  When we step off the plane onto the jetway, a guy in a high-vis jacket is waiting there.

  He approaches Liam. “Mr. Hunter, if you would come this way, please, I’ll take you to passport control.”

  “You have someone to take you through passport control?” I ask Liam.

  “They open a separate one for me.” He actually looks a little embarrassed telling me this.

  “Well, us mere mortals have to line up.” I smile. “So, I’ll see you on the other side.”

  I wonder if I will see him on the other side?

  He’s made no mention of me going back to his place since he said it at the start of the flight.

  “No, you won’t because you’re coming with me.” He takes ahold of my hand and starts to lead me along, following high-vis guy.

  We enter passport control and walk straight over to a passport booth.

  “Siobhan will take care of you, Mr. Hunter,” high-vis guy tells him, stopping by it.

  I can see the other passengers, who are starting to filter through, staring at us from across the room. If I were them, I’d be hating on us right now.

  “Can I have your passport, please?” Siobhan says with a bright smile, her eyes focused on Liam.

  “Ladies first.” Liam gestures to me.

  Moving forward, I hand Siobhan my passport.

  “First time in England?” Siobhan asks me.

  “It is.” I smile.

  “Well, enjoy your stay,” she says, handing me my passport back.

  Liam hands his over to her, and then I feel his chest pressing against my back.

  “Shaw,” he says, looking over my shoulder at my passport.

  “That’s my name.” I put my passport away in my bag.

  “Welcome home, Mr. Hunter.” Siobhan hands Liam his passport, giving him another dazzling smile.

  “My luggage?” he asks her.

  “Already collected and with your driver.”

  “Thank you.”

  He takes my hand again and starts leading me away from passport control and in the opposite direction of baggage claim.

  I tug him to a stop. “You might have your luggage, big boss man, but I need to go get mine.”

  “Already collected and in my car. I told them to get yours as well.”

  “And how did you know which luggage was mine?”

  His brows draw together. “Because I own the airline. Your seat number is in the system—my system—which is connected to your luggage at check-in. I tell my staff to get your luggage, and they do it.”

  I put my free hand on my hip, my head tilting to the side, eyes assessing. “Does everyone do what you say?”

  The look he gives me…I feel it all the way down to my toes, only pausing along the way to pay extra special attention to my vagina.

  He steps close, so close that I can feel the heat of his body through my clothes. And, God, he’s tall. He towers over me. I have to tip my head back to look at him.

  “Yes, everyone does what I say.” His tone is low and sexy. “But I have a feeling you’re going to be the exception to the rule.”

  “And you would be right about that.”

  “Thing is”—he leans his face in close, his warm breath brushing over my lips—“I might like control and really like people doing as I tell them, but I love a challenge more. So, game fucking on.” Then, he slaps me on the ass and walks off, leaving me standing there with my mouth wide open.

  Cocky son of a bitch. And it’s so fucking hot.

  “You going to stand there all day, Boston?” he calls over his shoulder. “Or are you coming?”

  Coming? Definitely.

  And…Boston? Guess I have a new nickname.

  I start walking, and picking up speed, I catch up to him.

  Liam pushes through the door, walking into the arrivals area.

  Grabbing my hand again, he leads me over to a guy who’s clearly waiting on him. “Paul, this is Taylor Shaw from Boston. Boston, this is Paul, my driver.”

  “Nice to meet you.” I smile at him.

  “Likewise. The car’s just outside, sir,” he tells Liam.

  Liam and I follow Paul outside. The air is cold, and I shiver. Liam wraps his arm around me.

  We follow Paul over to a flashy black Mercedes. Paul opens the back door. Liam ushers me in first and then climbs in next to me. I put on my seat belt. Paul gets in and turns on the engi
ne.

  “So, where are we going?” I ask as Paul pulls out into airport traffic.

  “My place…if you still want to?”

  I turn my face to find his closer than I expected.

  God, he’s gorgeous. I really want to kiss him again.

  We haven’t kissed since that one time when I surprise kissed him.

  “I want to,” I say softly.

  His eyes darken, and the look in them makes my insides clench. He cups my cheek with his hand, brushing his thumb over my lips.

  For a moment, I think he’s going to kiss me, but he doesn’t. He just sits back and puts his arm around me. I snuggle into his warm, hard body and close my eyes. I should be looking at London as it’s the first time I’d be seeing it, but Liam’s body is just so inviting.

  I must have fallen asleep because Liam is gently shaking me awake.

  “We’re here,” he says.

  I blink open my eyes to see his staring back at me.

  “Hey.” I smile.

  “Hey.” He smiles back. “We’re at my place.”

  “Oh, right.” I sit up. Grabbing my bag, I hang it on my shoulder.

  Liam gets out of the car and then holds a hand out for me. I take his hand, and he helps me out of the car.

  “I need to get my suitcase.” I gesture to the trunk of the car.

  “Paul will bring it up for you.”

  With my hand still in his, Liam leads me into a fancy-looking building.

  “Good evening, Mr. Hunter,” a guy behind the security desk greets him.

  “Evening, John.” Liam lifts his hand.

  We stop at a bank of elevators, and Liam presses the button. The door opens immediately, and I follow him inside. He presses the button marked Penthouse and then inputs a code into the keypad. The doors close, and we’re alone.

  And it hits me that I’m here, alone with him, and we’re going to quite possibly have sex—or, at the very least, have oral sex.

  My body starts to vibrate with nerves and excitement.

  I can’t believe this is actually happening.

  I’m in England, in an elevator with the sexiest guy I’ve ever met, whom I’ve known for exactly seven hours, and I’m going up to his place to partake in a round of oral sex.

  England is awesome.

  “You nervous?” Liam says from beside me, his voice sounding low and deep in the silence.

  I glance up at him. “I’m a little nervous,” I admit.

  “Don’t be.” He brushes his knuckles over my cheek, sending shivers hurtling through me.

  The elevator comes to a stop. We get out, and I follow Liam to his front door. He flips open a keypad and punches in another code, and then I hear a lock click open.

  “Don’t you have keys in England?”

  He grins at me and then swings open the door, letting me through first. I step inside his apartment.

  Wow. Big and fancy.

  But I don’t get a chance to properly look around because Liam shuts the door, and then I’m yanked back and pushed up against it. His mouth is on mine a split second later.

  He’s kissing me.

  And it feels amazing. He’s amazing.

  My bag slips off my shoulder, but I barely register it hitting the floor because I’m too caught up in him, caught up in his kiss.

  His hands are in my hair, his tongue in my mouth. “I’ve waited seven long fucking hours to taste that mouth again,” he rumbles against my lips. “Even better than I remembered.”

  Then, he’s kissing me again.

  Harder, more intense.

  And it’s awesome.

  I wind my arms around his neck, my fingers sliding into his hair. It’s softer than I expected.

  Liam’s hands leave my hair and move down my body. Finding my ass, he grabs it and lifts me. My legs come up around his waist.

  And, now, his impressive erection is pressed right up against my aching clit. Only our stupid clothes are in the way.

  I want more. I want all of him.

  There’s a solid knock on the door behind me, frightening the shit out of me.

  “Jesus Christ!” I jump.

  Liam chuckles. His mouth still against mine, his lips brush over mine as he speaks, “It’ll be Paul with our luggage.”

  “I’m guessing he needs to come in?” I stare into his eyes.

  “Yeah.” That’s all he says, but he doesn’t move.

  I don’t want to move either, but we can’t leave Paul out there all night.

  “Okay, well, you let Paul in, and I’ll go freshen up.”

  With some reluctance, I notice, he lets me down to my feet. “Guest bathroom is down the hall, second door on your left,” he tells me.

  I slip off my shoes, not wanting to walk across his nice hardwood floors in them, and then I retrieve my bag from the floor. Hanging my bag off my shoulder, I pad barefoot across the living room and down the hallway to the bathroom, my legs shaking the whole time.

  I let myself into a plush bathroom and lock the door behind me. I put my bag on the vanity counter and stare at myself in the mirror.

  My hair is all mussed up from Liam’s hands being in it, and my cheeks are flushed.

  Laughter bubbles up inside me, and I have to cover my hands over my mouth to curb the noise.

  I can’t believe I’m here, doing this.

  Crazy but amazing.

  Well, I wanted to live before I died. Do those things on my list.

  Tonight is the start of that.

  I feel the rumble of it coming before it hits. I should have expected it. All that traveling, it was inevitable.

  The pain strikes me hard. I clutch my head in my hands, crying out. I have to bite my lip to stop from being too noisy. I don’t want Liam to hear.

  It feels like my head is splitting open.

  Then, the nausea hits.

  I make it to the toilet just in time before I throw up the contents of my stomach.

  Arm on the edge of the toilet, I rest my head against it, praying for the pain to pass soon.

  Please stop. Please stop.

  But this is the price I have to pay for all I’ve done. The price I pay to be able to die.

  As soon as I feel able to stand, I get up and get my pain pills from my bag. I shake two out and swallow them down with water from the faucet.

  I’m sweaty, and I have vomit breath. Great.

  I grab my travel toothbrush and toothpaste, and I scrub my teeth clean.

  Then, I decide to take a quick shower. Tying my hair back into a ponytail, so not to get it wet, I turn the shower on and wash my body, using the shower gel in there.

  Having the shower makes me feel a lot better.

  I grab a towel from the rack and dry off. I get out the clothes that I packed in my carry-on—clean panties, bra, leggings and tank top—and dress in them. Not exactly seductive clothing, but it’s slightly better than the yoga pants and T-shirt I was wearing.

  I decide to leave my hair in a ponytail. I put my dirty clothes away in my bag, hang it on my shoulder and let myself out of the bathroom, heading back to Liam in the living room.

  He’s not there, but my suitcase is. It’s sitting by the front door.

  “Liam?” I call out.

  “I’m in the kitchen.”

  Having no clue where the kitchen is, I head in the direction of where I heard his voice coming from.

  I easily find the kitchen. It’s really nice with glossy black cupboards and work surfaces.

  Liam is in there, his back to me, standing at the stove, wearing a T-shirt and running pants. His hair looks damp. He must’ve had a shower, too.

  “I took a shower,” I tell him. “I was feeling gross after the flight. Hope that was okay.”

  He smiles at me from over his shoulder. “No problem at all. I thought you might be hungry, so I made food—chicken stir-fry. You’re not a vegetarian, are you?”

  He cooked.

  “No.” I smile. I’m not actually hungry after the headac
he and vomiting, but he went to the trouble, and I don’t want to seem rude.

  “Take a seat.” He gestures to the breakfast bar.

  I walk over and sit up on one of the stools. I watch while Liam dishes the stir-fry into two bowls. He brings them over, putting one in front of me. Then, he gets two forks from a drawer and hands one to me.

  “This looks really good,” I tell him. And it does. Smells good, too. My stomach rumbles in appreciation, which surprises me, as I normally struggle to eat after I’ve had an episode.

  “Do you want something to drink?” Liam asks me.

  “Water would be great.”

  He goes over to the refrigerator and gets two bottles of water. Taking the seat beside me, he hands me one of the bottles.

  “Thanks.” I unscrew the cap and have a drink. I put the water down and start in on my stir-fry. “This is really good,” I tell him around my first mouthful.

  “I’m glad you like it.” He smiles over at me.

  “You like to cook?”

  “I do.” He nods. “I just don’t get a lot of time to do it.”

  “You should make more time. You’re really good.”

  “Wish I could, but work takes precedence. I find it hard to delegate. So, cooking, like everything else, goes by the wayside.”

  “But you make time to pick up strange women on airplanes and bring them back to your place?” I raise my brow, smiling.

  “Oh, I always find time to do that, especially when those strange women are as hot as you.” The heated tone in his voice leaves me squirming in my seat.

  We finish up our food, and I help Liam clean up.

  I’m just loading up the last dish into the dishwasher when I feel him come up behind me, his hands taking ahold of my hips.

  My heart pauses and then jumps, and my pulse starts to race.

  I turn and look at him over my shoulder. Our eyes connect, the air suddenly becoming very thick between us.

  I straighten up.

  Liam moves me around to face him. His hand lifts to my ponytail. He tugs the tie out and runs his fingers through my hair.

  “Are we done with the small talk and pleasantries?” he asks, low.

  I swipe my tongue over my lower lip, loving the way his eyes flare at the movement. “Yeah, we’re done.”