by Ella Miles
But then I remember a not so happy thought—this isn’t Siren’s first time becoming a member. “You ever going to tell me how you got your mile-high membership?”
She cocks her head, giving me a seductive glance as she thinks about the last time she did it on a plane. “Nope.”
I growl, but it only makes her smile brighten as she pulls out her phone and pretends to read a book. There is no way she’s reading, not when her thighs are clenched together, and her breath is heavy with thoughts about what we are going to do in that bathroom.
I know one thing that’s going to happen—I’m going to erase the other guy from her memory so it will feel like the first time all over again.
19
Siren
Zeke’s legs bounce up and down, and I remember that he’s a nervous flyer. At least when Nora is flying us. But I don’t think that’s what this is about. This is about us having sex in the bathroom.
Something I can’t wait for either, but it could still be a while. We have to climb to an appropriate height. Then the pilots have to turn the seatbelt sign off. Then we have to wait for the first group to use the bathroom to be courteous. Then we have to take turns sneaking off to the bathroom without the flight attendants noticing.
“We have reached an altitude of 10,000 feet. It is now safe to use all approved electronic devices…”, the flight attendant speaks over the speakers.
Zeke undoes his seatbelt and then mine, before grabbing my hand.
“Zeke, what are you doing?” I laugh at his eagerness.
“If it’s safe to use electronic devices, it’s safe to go to the bathroom,” he grins back, with determination in his eyes.
I roll my eyes. That’s not how this works, but I don’t argue with him. There is no use. My stomach clenches with need—I don’t want to argue either. I can’t wait.
The flight attendant is still making announcements on the speaker when Zeke and I pass her on the way to the bathroom. Her eyes are big, and she’s about to tell us off when a man in the front row says, “Ma’am, there is a puking infant in the tenth row.”
She runs off to take care of the infant. And Zeke and I casually stroll into the bathroom. Zeke latches the door, and we are face to face in the tiny room.
“They really should make these bathrooms bigger,” he says.
I smile. “Don’t think you have enough space to put on your moves?”
He grabs my hips and pushes his against mine, letting me feel how hard he is. My pussy soaks and throbs, preparing for him, and he doesn’t even have a clue.
But the hitch of his eyebrow says he knows exactly what he’s doing to my body.
“We have to be fast—” I start, but I’m cut off when Zeke kisses my neck, making me purr.
“Why? I want to enjoy every inch of your body.”
“Because…because we have to…” but my mind can’t form words anymore. My mind doesn’t have a clue why we have to be fast.
Fast?
Slow?
I want it all.
Zeke’s hands are working over my jeans, and I know he can feel how wet I am through them. I should make him take them off before the wet spot becomes even more noticeable when we walk back out. But the feel of his hands over my jeans make my purring and groaning louder.
Finally, I get enough oxygen to my brain. “Are you going to fuck me or just tease me like we are in high school or something?”
That gets him moving faster.
His finger dips beneath my jeans so fast I don’t even see his fingers move, but I feel them beneath my panties against my hot wetness.
“Holy fuck!” I cry.
Apparently, fucking all last night did nothing to take away my desire for this man. I want him all the time. All. The. Time.
And after we fuck this once, I don’t know if it will be enough to survive nine hours on this plane without getting to fuck him again.
“You like that?” Zeke growls.
“Yes!”
But it’s not fair to be the only one screaming.
I dip my hands beneath his jeans and find his hard cock.
“Siren,” he says my name like a curse, which is exactly what I am—a fucking curse.
And then we can’t wait. I rip open the button on his jeans as he undoes my zipper. We both push each other’s pants and underwear down at the same time, not even bothering to remove our shirts. Somehow seeing Zeke pantless with a shirt is sexy. Everything about Zeke is sexy.
I grab the scrunchie holding his hair up, pull his hair free, and then I put it around my wrist. He looks like the beast at the end of Beauty and the Beast when he’s turned back into a man. Just a pantless beast.
God, his hair is gorgeous. I tangle my hands in his hair at the same time he grabs my hips, pushing us together. There isn’t much room in this bathroom, so we are both fighting for everything—room, control, oxygen.
The mirror fogs up as our kisses turn to uncontrollable devouring of each other.
We spin, trying to find a way to make the bathroom bigger so we can take each other the way we want to. Our hands sneak between us, rubbing each other furiously, trying to get the other harder, wetter, more turned on, and reveling in the sound of the other screaming our name out.
My back is against the bathroom door, and Zeke lifts my hands up, demanding control as he kisses my neck.
“God, if I had a bed…the things I’d do to you,” he says.
I shudder, holding back from coming at the sound of his deep, sexy voice.
His lips curl up as he notices my reaction.
Control—I need control back.
But more importantly, I need Zeke’s dick inside me.
I shove him hard, and he stumbles back until he’s sitting on the lid covered toilet seat. Not exactly sexy, but neither of us care. We need each other too badly to care about how we are doing it.
I straddle him, and his cock pushes inside me in one stroke.
I grab his hair, holding on for dear life as I ride him up and down, and he thrusts short and hard into me.
Our eyes lock with each other, and this quick romp in the bathroom starts making me think and feel things I shouldn’t. Like how I want to find every bathroom, closet, and alleyway in France to fuck him in.
Then he’s pushing up my shirt, and his head dips under as he carefully takes a nipple between his teeth. The sharp pain is just enough to alert all my senses.
I come—hard. Too hard. I scream his name, completely forgetting that we are in a bathroom on a plane with hundreds of passengers.
Zeke has a devious expression on his face, but then I thrust down on him while yanking on his hair, and he’s growling his own orgasm out.
He shakes his head, like he can’t believe we just did that.
“How is it that you always end up on top lately?” he asks, kissing me gently. Too gently. I like rough, hard, fast Zeke. Not tender, caring, soft Zeke. Not the man who got me coffee and cookies. This version of Zeke is dangerous to my already falling heart.
“I guess I’m just the stronger of the two of us.” I wink.
He nips at my bottom lip. “Yep, that’s it. It couldn’t be that I like watching your tits bounce up and down in front of my face.”
I roll my eyes. “Definitely not.”
We both stand and take a second to clean ourselves up before dressing.
I reach for the door handle, and then Zeke grabs my face, turning my lips toward him for one final kiss.
“Meet you back here in an hour?” he asks.
I laugh, but I’m desperate to make it happen again.
At least I am until I open the door and die from embarrassment. There is a line of three people waiting for the bathroom. None of them look happy when we exit the bathroom.
“Sorry,” I mumble quietly under my breath as we pass them and return to our seats.
“How can three people need to go to the bathroom already? We just took off,” Zeke says.
Nora laughs next to us. “You�
��ve been in there for an hour.”
“No way,” I say.
“Yep, the flight attendants knocked on the door twice, trying to get you two out, but you were too occupied to hear.”
I’m going to die from embarrassment. I’ve survived gunfights. Battles. Disgusting men. Julian. Hugo. But this is how I’m going to die—of embarrassment on a nine-hour flight from Miami to Paris.
Nora laughs. “I’m just kidding. You were only in there twenty minutes.”
I grab a nut from the container the flight attendant brought around and throw it at her.
Zeke just frowns.
“Why are you upset?” I ask.
“It’s not a funny joke. I think we should go back to the bathroom right now and prove that I can last longer than twenty minutes.”
I chuckle and realize all the eyes in our cabin are on us. The women are drooling and panting, wishing Zeke would do to them what he did to me. And the men are either scowling or ready to high-five Zeke for his impressive stamina.
“I don’t think you need to prove anything to anyone,” I say.
Yet Zeke kisses me hard, his tongue sweeping away any doubt that he isn’t the most impressive man on the plane.
When he stops, I don’t even care that he only kissed me to show off to the rest of the plane. That’s why he kissed me like that, right? Because his eyes are looking at me like he’s afraid he’s going to lose me again. As if losing me, not embarrassment, would be the death of him.
“Can I get you two a drink? Maybe something that will keep you in your seats?” the flight attendant says, apparently annoyed with our little show.
Zeke turns to her, flashing his million-dollar smile that rarely comes out because he’s usually sulking. “Yes, we’d both love a whiskey.”
Suddenly the flight attendant is smiling back at him.
What the fuck?
Isn’t she upset with us still? Going to lecture us?
Nope—Zeke smiles, winks, and then she’s off to get us drinks like nothing happened.
Isn’t there something in the rules about Zeke not smiling at other women if I’m not allowed to fuck other men? It seems like there should be.
I slump into my chair and take the whiskey the flight attendant immediately brings back. I sip on it, hoping it will drown out my jealousy.
Doubtful.
This plane ride is going to feel like forever. I’m not going to survive. And if I do, I’m definitely not going to survive what I have planned in France.
If I can’t handle Zeke smiling at another woman, how am I going to survive him pretending to be engaged to another woman? Me and my stupid plans.
20
Zeke
Siren has a plan, and I don’t like it. Not one bit. It’s a stupid plan. Not only that, but if she thinks I can actually pull this off, she’s insane. She’s lost her mind. She knows I’m not a good actor. I don’t know why she thinks this is the only way to steal a billion dollars from her in-laws.
Can’t we just sneak into the city and hack their bank account or something? Hell, I’d even take robbing a bank at gunpoint over this plan.
Nora seems just as reluctant as she slips a giant engagement ring on her left finger.
“I swore I’d never wear this ring again,” Nora says, staring at the sparkler on her finger.
“Why do you still have it if you rejected his offer?” I ask.
“I didn’t reject his offer. I said yes, and then I found him cheating on me, so I got to keep the ring,” she growls.
“Okay, but why didn’t you sell it? Get something useful out of it?” I ask.
“Do I look like the kind of girl that needs a man’s money?” she snarks with a sassiness I wasn’t expecting.
She doesn’t need money any more than Siren needs a man’s help. But I don’t respond. Her question seemed rhetorical, and all I’m doing is digging myself into a deeper hole.
The ring on Nora’s finger isn’t what has me worried. It’s the ring Siren is holding in her hand and looking at like it’s poison.
I still, staring at it.
It’s a gold ring with dozens of tiny diamonds all around it. It’s beautiful, simple, and timeless.
She stares at it. “I thought Hugo worked his ass off to be able to pay for this ring. I thought he scrounged together and saved every last penny to be able to buy me this. I thought it cost thousands. I didn’t realize I had the million dollars Hugo owed the drug dealer on my left finger. If I did…”
She would have sold it to free Hugo instead of selling herself to Julian.
I walk over to her. “Is it really worth millions?”
She nods and holds out the ring to me.
I take it and study the intricacy of the ring. There are more diamonds than I first realized.
“It doesn’t seem like it should be worth that much.”
“A family heirloom. And yes, Hugo’s mom told me the value of it last time I visited.”
She takes the ring back and slowly puts it on her finger. I hold my breath to keep from making a sound, a twitch, or any movement that would reveal my feelings at seeing another man’s ring on her finger.
She takes a deep breath. “Ready.”
Siren looks to me and then Nora. We all nod in agreement. Ready. At least as ready as we can be.
We stopped at an expensive clothing store on the way to the hotel Hugo’s parents own, where we will be meeting them and staying. Apparently, jeans were not going to be appropriate attire to meet them in, so I’m wearing khaki slacks and a buttoned-down gray shirt.
Nora is in a flowery dress that seems too sweet for her.
A soft, flowy pink dress hides Siren’s curves, the complete opposite of the Siren I know.
“Stop staring at me, stare at Nora. You’re supposed to be in love with her, not me,” Siren hisses.
“You sure you want to go with pink?”
She sighs. “Yep, it brings out the softness in my eyes.”
It does, but the softness in her eyes isn’t her best asset.
We all climb into the back of a black town car. Apparently, a taxi wouldn’t be appropriate for us to arrive in.
The ride is short, into the heart of Paris. The hotel we stop in front of is the grandest I’ve ever seen. Suddenly, I think I should have entered in a suit, not khakis. I’m definitely glad I didn’t arrive in ripped jeans.
The hotel doorman opens our car door, and Siren walks out like she belongs here. Her face and posture change completely.
I step out, looking completely lost. My hair is up in a bun, my beard is trimmed, and my clothes are tidy, but I’m as far away from belonging here as possible. You can’t cover my tattoos or scars, and I sure as hell wasn’t letting Siren cut my hair to help me fit in.
“Hold my hand,” Nora whispers, her fingers dancing against my palm.
Reluctantly, I take her hand.
“And don’t act like it’s killing you to be my fiancé. You didn’t have such a hard job pretending I was your girlfriend in that bar.”
“That’s because it was one night, and I was trying to make Siren jealous.”
“Well, pretend you’re trying to make her jealous again. It worked that night. It can work again.”
I lead Nora inside, following Siren. Siren barely waits for us to enter before she’s wrapping an extravagantly dressed older woman and a suited, graying haired man in a hug and quick kiss on the cheek.
Yep, should have gone with the suit.
“Aria, it’s so good of you to visit,” the older woman says.
“It’s been too long, but my best friend is getting married, and she wanted the best wedding. So I thought this was just the place and the people to help her get ready for her big day.”
“Of course, we are the best,” the woman says, looking past Siren to us. A frown immediately appears on her face. Apparently, she doesn’t approve of Nora, nor me.
“Let me introduce you to the happy couple,” Siren says, ignoring the woman’s glare.
“Mrs. Bisset, this is my best friend, Nora Taylor,” Siren says.
Mrs. Bisset, who apparently didn’t take her husband’s last name, holds out a snooty hand to Nora.
“Mrs. Bisset, it’s so nice to meet you,” Nora says.
The woman just nods as they shake, not offering for Nora to call her by her first name. But then Mrs. Bisset spots Nora’s engagement ring.
“Well done, that is an exquisite diamond,” Mrs. Bisset says.
Nora nods hesitantly but then grabs my arm. “I snagged a good husband to be.”
From the way Mrs. Bisset is looking at me, the only thing she approves of is the expensive ring I supposedly bought my fiancé. She stares down her nose at me, doubting I could afford it. She doesn’t realize if I was getting married for real, I could afford a ring three times as expensive.
“Zeke Kane,” I say, introducing myself and not holding out my hand, because I know the woman doesn’t want to shake it anyway.
“Hmm,” she says.
Siren gives me a quick roll of the eyes only I see.
“And this is Mr. Martinez, he owns a string of hotels here,” Siren says.
The man looks up from the phone he has been busy typing on. He nods in our direction, apparently not caring who the new guests are.
“The courtyard out back is the ultimate dream location to get married. The flowers are blooming and beautiful this time of year, but of course, I’ll have more flowers brought in for your special day. However, the location and my services do come with a hefty price tag,” Mrs. Bisset says, looking at me like I couldn’t afford to get married in a barn, much less in a swanky hotel in Paris.
I stare around like this place is nothing more than a Marriot. “It’s not up to my tastes, but if my baby here wants it, then I guess this place will do.”
Nora smiles, annoyingly, and leans into my chest. I stiffen at how wrong it feels to have any woman leaning against me that isn’t Siren.
