by M Dauphin
All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This book is for sale to ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be access by minors.
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Copyright 2016 M. Dauphin
Cover design © 2016 Inked Imprints
Every now and then we all need to give ourselves second chances at being the person we deserve to be.
“Ava, I swear, this thing has to be over a foot long!” I giggle, wiggling the massive pink dildo that I just unwrapped. A ‘surprise’ gift that I thought was a package I ordered three weeks ago. Wrong! Thank God I didn’t open it up in the hallway. Ms. Wren, my neighbor, would have had a heart attack if she had seen it.
“And it just showed up at your door?” she shrieks with laughter. The type of laughter that brings tears to your eyes.
“Yes! I thought it was a care package from my grandma! I don’t use this type of… stuff!” Good lord! I’ve had my fair share of sex in my life, but toys were never even on my radar!
“Maybe it is from her!” She cackles. “You know she worries about you!” She can’t contain her laughter at the dildo I’m holding. I sent her a picture of it suction-cupped to my wall thanking her for the doorstop, right before I called her.
“Right. A ‘hey, honey, I know it’s been a long time. Here, have a good O on me’ care package?”
“Yes!” she screams. “Oh God, Nora, that’s so funny.” She takes a few breaths to compose herself. “So who sent it?”
“No fucking clue,” I mutter, watching it wiggle in my grasp as I try to figure out how something like this could even bring pleasure. It’s just so damn big! Wouldn’t that… hurt? “It was probably a wrong delivery, but I kind of feel weird sending back a dildo in a box.”
“Well, I say you bring it. You don’t know what’s going to happen this week.”
“Knowing my luck, I’ll be strip searched and have all my valuables brought out of my carry-on for the world to see.” I toss the beast in my bag for shits and giggles and go back to packing. I leave in just a few hours for the airport and only just started getting things together for it. A week in Colorado. A week on the slopes. A week away from this drama city.
“Just get out of O’Hare safely and get to me. I can’t wait to see you!” she squeals.
Ava’s my oldest friend. When she was nine she moved away but we’ve made a point to stay in contact and see each other at least once a year. This year it’s my turn to go to her and I can’t wait. Chicago’s been dreary lately, to say the least. Winter here seemed to start in September and I swear I haven’t seen the sun in months. Colorado this week promises sunny skies, crisp air, and enough slopes to hit one a day and not run out. Maybe some men, too.
This trip is much needed, to say the least. In a little over two weeks I’ll be moving from my comfort zone of Chicago, Illinois where I’ve lived alone for over a year now and loved the independence, to Lawton, Oklahoma; a small town with a ton of potential for my business to bloom. It’s primarily a college town with Cameron University students being the focus of my clientele. It helps, also, that my Gram lives there and is willing to rent out her guesthouse until I get on my feet. And by rent, I mean have dinner with her every night in exchange for a place to live. Seems like a steal, really.
By the time I make it to the airport I’m cold, frozen, and my feet are wet from the snow slush I stepped in the minute I got out of the cab.
My luck has to change some time soon, damnit.
“ID please,” the man at the counter grumbles as I slide over my ID. He takes my bag and weighs it, chuckling. “Three pounds over limit. It’s a $50 fee for bags that are over the limit, ma’am.”
My mouth falls open and I stare at him.
“What?” Grabbing my bag, I lift it with ease and glare at him. “I’m a hundred and sixty pound girl! If I can lift it with ease so can your hired muscles! Why the hell is it extra?!” I shriek.
“Ma’am,” the attendant says. I watch him eye the security guard across the way. These jerks don’t mess around.
“Fine,” I grumble, grabbing my debit card. There’s a meal out I won’t be buying this week.
Airports piss me off. It doesn’t matter who I’m flying with or where I’m flying to. The cattle herd of security is demeaning (albeit necessary) and the pat down isn’t any better. It takes a little over an hour to make it through security and by the time I’m through I have twenty minutes until my plane boards. Just enough time to find my gate and maybe grab a coffee.
God, Colorado can’t get here fast enough. I’ve been so busy with packing for the big move that I haven’t had any me time in the last month.
Just as I find my seat at my very full gate, a woman’s voice comes on over the loudspeaker.
“Attention passengers. Due to the winter storm, all flights are delayed a half-hour. Thank you for your patience and cooperation in this matter.”
Great.
Just great.
I know it’s not the airline’s fault that the weather is bad, but I don’t want to be stuck here any longer than I have to. The people around me are freaking me out (personal space, anyone?) and I can’t connect to Wi-Fi, which is going to blow my data plan out the roof.
Annoyed at the situation, I pull out my laptop and start to play with the boutique’s logos that I’ve started on. I don’t need internet for this shit. As I click away on my keyboard, I notice someone sit in the chair directly beside me but I don’t bother looking up.
“School project?” I hear him ask the question but keep my eyes trained on the screen, ignoring my neighbor that sat just a little too close to me. I’m not one to find friends in airports. Even if the voice is sexy as hell.
“Those colors clash,” he says again and I roll my eyes, shifting in my seat so he can’t see the screen as I switch some color schemes up. I hate it, but he’s right.
“Just tryin’ to help,” he mutters. I see him cross his ankle over his knee and relax back into the chair. His scent is strong, but I can’t quite place it. A tattoo peeks out from under his jean cuff and I can’t take my eyes off it. I’ve always been attracted to other peoples’ tattoos. I want to know the story behind it, how much or how little it hurt. It’s a weird obsession, but I love them. One day I’ll grow the balls to get one. Hopefully. How can an ankle be attractive to me right now? I don’t even know what this man looks like. He could be fifteen years old for all I know.
Stop staring at the ankle, Nora. Go back to work.
“You like it?” he asks again, pushing up his pant leg to show me the rest of the tattoo. I flick my eyes to him out of a habit of looking at someone when they talk to me and holy mother of flutters. He’s definitely not a teenager. And he’s most definitely hot as sin. The scruff on his face. The tattoos running up both arms. The beanie on the top of his head. And those teeth. Goodness those teeth. He’s smiling at me and all I’m doing is staring, doe-eyed, at the prett
iest bad boy I’ve ever seen.
Also the most annoying.
“Sorry,” I mumble, ripping my eyes away and focusing back on the screen.
“You’re not very personable, are you?” His voice is laced with amusement and grates on my nerves something fierce.
“Excuse me?” I furrow my brows at him, our eyes connecting and sending a jolt of heat straight between my legs.
Whoa.
“I mean, I’ve tried talking to you for a good ten minutes now and other than admiring my beauty, all you’ve done is ignore and belittle me.”
“I what? I never belittled you.”
“The eye roll. I saw it. You think because you’re over there, working on your fantasy project, someone like me most definitely doesn’t know what he’s talking about and therefore isn’t worth your time.”
He gives me a grin that makes me shake with anger.
“I didn’t roll my eyes at you.” I mutter, closing my laptop. Obviously I won’t be getting any more work done during this delay.
“Okay.” He sighs and leans back in his chair again. “It’s going to be a long-ass night if you don’t make any friends here.”
“You’re unbelievable,” I huff, chuckling and shaking my head. “It’s ten minutes ‘till we board. Can’t I just keep to myself?” I ask, shoving my computer back in my bag.
“Yep.” He nods. “Sorry for bothering you, princess.”
We sit in silence for what feels like a lifetime. I’ve been texting Ava the whole time telling her about the delay, but now I feel like she needs to be kept in the loop about my crazy neighbor that won’t leave me alone.
I snap a few pictures of the tattoo and his profile when he’s not paying attention and send them to her.
Me: At least there’s eye candy.
Ava: Jesus Christ, yes there is! Delicious!
I giggle and he looks over at me curiously. Clearing my throat, I shove my phone in my coat pocket and adjust my posture in the seat. He chuckles then pulls out his phone, the tattoos on his arm catching my eye. Colorful bursts breaking out of a black door start to bring the scene to life. My eyes travel up his very toned, very deliciously sexy arm (have I mentioned I’m a forearm girl. For goodness sake this man’s forearms are nice) and take in the theme of his arm. I must have been caught, though, because he jerks his arm away and chuckles.
“Oh, so it’s ok for you to admire me, but when I want to talk to you, you’re too good?” He raises an eyebrow at me and my irritation grows, pushing aside the sudden urge to take him to the bathroom and see what he has hiding underneath those jeans.
“I like those, that’s all,” I say, nodding towards his tattoos. He grins at me, but before he can say anything else my phone starts ringing.
Watching me carefully, he grins and shakes his head, moving his gaze to the other side of the airport when I answer the call.
“Hey you. How’s mister beautiful doin? He’s not gonna kill you, is he? Why aren’t you on the plane yet?” Ava’s the obsessive one between the two of us. It doesn’t surprise me that she’s been keeping tabs on me. She worries about everything.
“Hopefully any time now. I need out of this airport.” I chuckle. “We should be boarding soon. I’ll let you know when we’re about to take off.” Sometimes I feel like she’s more protective than my father and that’s saying something! I have the ‘call when you get there’, ‘call when you leave’, ‘call if plans change’ dad. Always have, always will. As I get older he’s not as bad, but my teenage years were difficult, to say the least.
“Good. Thank you. I can’t wait to see you!” She squeals. “Love you, Nora,” she says.
“Love you too, babe,” I say, smiling as I hang up the phone. After sliding it into my bag and leaning back in my seat, I notice the man next to me smiling at me.
“Never would have thought it,” he mutters, shaking his head.
“What?” I furrow my brows at him in confusion.
“A lesbian.” His eyebrows rise and he smiles at me, those perfectly white teeth practically glowing from behind his lips. Lord almighty he’s pretty.
Her mouth is hanging open in the sexiest of ‘O’ shapes and I have half a mind to reach over and close it for her. She’s too damn cute, especially when she’s flustered and annoyed. I’m not certain which look this one is, but I’m sure it’s up there with ‘Jesus fucking Christ did he just say that’. Less than a half-hour with this chick and she’s already topped my interest level. She has this pull about her… nothing like I’ve been around before. The pitch-black hair, the brilliantly blue eyes… Jesus those eyes. And that skin. It’s virgin skin, I can tell that just by looking at her. It’s pristine, pale, and just begging to be designed.
“I’m not a lesbian,” she whispers, lowering her head as she says it. “No.”
“Not that there’s anything wrong with being one,” I add, shrugging.
“I’m not a lesbian!” she exclaims, glaring at me until she hears the snickers from a nearby teenager.
“Shit,” I say, chuckling. “Fine. So you like the D. That’s better for me anyway.” I wink at her and see her cheeks flush as her eyes go wide.
“You wish,” she growls.
I watch her silently as she grabs her bag and slings her purse over her shoulder. I’m not entirely certain where she’s headed, but I know she can’t go far. From my check of the radar and weather conditions, we aren’t going anywhere anytime soon.
“Ladies and gentleman of flight 3389 flying to Bollingbrook, Colorado. We regret to inform you that weather conditions are not letting up and according to the national weather service, the winter storm is just beginning. All flights as of 4:45pm are cancelled. In order to reschedule, please visit the customer service desk.”
The minute our announcement ends, the groups of passengers around us start to grumble. It only grows louder as the terminals around us start announcing their cancelled flights.
“Fuck,” she huffs, then groans and flops back into her seat. “No, no, no…” I hear her whine as she pulls her phone out and starts texting.
A delay is fine with me. I’m perfectly fine with taking my sweet-ass time getting to the middle of nowhere. It’s been my home my entire life. Short little trips like this are a nice getaway for me. The only ones I really get anymore.
“You got plans?” I ask finally as I watch the customer service line dissipate. I half expected this chick to be long gone by now, but she’s not. It’s like she’s waiting for something.
“No,” she mumbles, staring at her phone. “I was waiting for the line to die down then I plan on booking the next flight out of here.” She stands and grabs her bag then smiles at me. “It’s been nice getting to know you, uh—”
“Maxwell. Maxwell Holzer. You can call me Max.” I stand and reach my hand out to hers. When her soft skin comes into contact with mine my dick starts to wake up.
It’s been too fucking long since I’ve touched someone this pure and soft. She’s cute, with a bit of a city-girl accent to her. She’s quiet, but I bet if I could get her into bed I could make her scream. Her hair pulled to the top of her head, the layers of winter clothes that Chicago begs for, covering her petite frame. She’s definitely fuckable… too bad I refuse to fuck someone at an airport.
“Well Max, it was nice keeping your company. I’m going to try to make this day not completely suck.” She walks away and leaves me grinning. I’ve never seen someone so flustered and angry at the same time. It’s sexy and now I need more of it.
Slowly making my way over to the line, I make sure to get in right behind her. Minding my own business, not to anger the beast, I grab my phone and check the messages. Ten. In the small amount of time I’ve been in this airport, I’ve gotten ten messages and all from one person.
Deig: You make it through security?
Deig: I’m certain I would have seen on the news if they caught you, right?
Deig: Weather looks bad there. You good?
Deig: Jesus Christ,
man, a fucking response would be nice. I’m on pins and fucking needles over here.
The messages just get more frantic after that. Then there’s one from my dad asking how everything is going. Everyone’s so damn nervous and worried about me, but they shouldn’t be. I’ve never had a problem at an airport. I know my way around. TSA pre-check is my super friend. And never in the history of ever have I been tagged for in-depth inspection. Ever.
I type out a quick reply and hit send.
Me: All fine. Flight cancelled.
As soon as I look up from my phone I notice her. She’s turned around and grinning at me. I cock an eyebrow at her as I slide the phone into my pocket.
“Funny, I never would have thought of you as the type,” she says, shrugging and turning around.
What the hell?
“What type?” I ask to the back of her head. She turns slightly and grins back at me.
“The type that likes guys named ‘Deig’.” She chuckles.
A growl escapes me and my dick is screaming at me to let him at her and show her just how little I like guys, but I think that’s frowned upon here in public.
“I’m not fucking gay,” I growl. Instinctively, and without putting any rational thought into what I’m doing, I grab her by the hips and pull her back to me, letting her ass press into my currently growing hard-on. Keeping my voice low, I lean in and whisper to her. “If you would have been paying more attention, you’d have noticed this has been hard for you for quite some time.”
A gasp escapes her and just when I think she’s about to melt into me, she pulls herself away and spins on her heel, glaring at me. Fuck, man, if looks could kill.
“I could have you arrested for that, Mr. Holzer.” Her face flushed, there’s no escaping the evident signs of her arousal. Her nipples are hard, her lips parted ever so slightly, and even as I stand here and smile at her as she tries to look disgusted at me, her eyes can’t help but travel down my body.
