Come Fly with Me: A Collection

by Whitney G.

  Jake held the doors open and seconds later, an elderly woman stepped inside.

  “Thank you so much,” she said.

  “What floor?” Jake asked her.

  “Twenty-six. Thank you.”

  He pressed “26” and then, out of a pure gentleman’s book, he pressed “50” so it wouldn’t look like we were together. “And for you?” he asked, looking at me. “What floor?”

  “Eighty.”

  “Eight?” He looked at me. “Is that what you said?”

  “No, eighty.” I pulled the additional key out of my bag and held it against the panel. “You can’t press that floor. I have to use this to get up there.”

  “Oh! I’ve always wondered who lived on that floor,” the woman said. “Good to finally put a face to a unit. You should try coming to the monthly social sometimes. Once a year wouldn’t kill you, you know.”

  “I’ll try it.”

  “How are the views up there, by the way?” she asked.

  “Phenomenal.”

  “I bet.” She gave me a short wave as she got off on her floor and for some reason, Jake was gently pulling at my hair, murmuring something that sounded like, “Strawberry…” but I wasn’t sure.

  “How long did you say you’d been living here exactly?” he asked.

  “Just a few months. Why?” The energy between us now felt completely different from seconds ago. The look on his face wasn’t lust-filled anymore. It was something else entirely.

  “I’m just having thoughts.”

  “Potentially murderous thoughts?”

  “Potentially curious thoughts.” He stared at me as the doors opened.

  “Wait,” I said, motioning for him not to step off. “I need to do something before you take another step.”

  “And what is that exactly?”

  “Hold on…” I walked over to the hallway vases and quickly disabled the cameras. I hit the disable button for the camera one over the door and placed a sticker over the new lens.

  “You can come now,” I said to Jake, pulling out the second keycard. “I just have to do those security things for privacy.”

  “Yes, I can tell you highly value privacy…” He followed me to the door.

  I swiped the keycard against the doors, but it flashed red for no-entry instead of green.

  What the…It worked last night…

  I held it against the key pad again and again, becoming increasingly frustrated with every flash of red.

  “Is something wrong?” Jake asked.

  “No, the key is just being strange that’s all.” The light suddenly flashed green, saving me from embarrassment and I held the door open for him.

  I hit the panel of buttons on the wall and the drapes that covered the living room windows slowly drew open, exposing the view of Manhattan.

  “That’s a very nice feature,” Jake said from behind. “Did you have that designed yourself?”

  “No, it was already like that when I moved in.”

  “Interesting.” He walked into the living room and stood by the windows, looking like he belonged in this space more than I did. “It’s a beautiful apartment.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Would you mind giving me a quick tour of your place?”

  “Right now?”

  “Yes. Right now.”

  “Okay…” I walked toward him. “We’re currently standing in the living room and it stretches into the parlor room and the dining room as you can see…” I walked to the left, down the hallway. “There are guest rooms on both sides of this hall with their own bathroom and…” I stepped inside the master bedroom and turned on the lights. “This is my room.”

  “Impressive.” He stepped inside and looked around. “What made you pick beige and black accents for everything in here?”

  “They’re my favorite colors.”

  He smiled. “Even more interesting…Do you have a master bathroom as well?”

  “Yes.” I walked over to the doors that led to it and showed him. “Stone shower, Jacuzzi, and sauna room.” I noticed my bottle of strawberry shampoo standing at the front of the shower rack and walked over to it as I spoke, shoving it back behind the black and blue bottles where it belonged.

  “What’s on the other side of the apartment?”

  “A private library and an office,” I said. “Oh, and I believe we missed the kitchen. Would you like a drink?”

  “Absolutely.”

  I made sure nothing else in the master suite was out of place before leading him into the kitchen. I pulled out a vintage bottle of wine and two glasses, and he followed close behind me.

  “Should I assume that you have a love for aerial city photography?” he asked.

  “What?”

  “The photos on the wall.” He pointed to the four massive white frames that hung over the fire place. “Do you have a thing for aerial views?”

  “Oh…Yes. Something like that.”

  He leaned against the counter, narrowing his eyes at me, looking sexier than ever, but something was off. “Tell me, Gillian. In what cities were those pictures taken?”

  “I don’t really remember…”

  “You should,” he said. “They’re quite stunning, beautiful enough to be quite memorable. At least, I think so.”

  The hairs on the back of my neck were standing up and my heart was beating erratically, but I wasn’t sure why. “Boston. The top left one is from Boston, that’s where I went to school for undergrad. The others are…” I had no fucking idea, and I’d never paid much attention to them before today. “The top right is New York, the bottom left is London, and the bottom right is Tokyo.”

  “How fascinating.”

  “It is…” Something was telling me to run right now, but I didn’t listen. “You don’t mind if we drink white wine, do you?”

  “That’s the very least of things I mind right now.”

  I wasn’t sure what he meant by that, so I pulled out the utensils drawer, looking for the corkscrew. I moved the knives and spatulas around, wondering where it was and hoping like hell I’d simply misplaced it into another drawer.

  I pulled open drawer after drawer, seeing nothing—silently panicking with every second that passed.

  Shit. Shit. SHIT…

  “Is something wrong?” Jake asked.

  “No.” I opened the final drawer and saw nothing. “I just—”

  “You just what?”

  “Nothing…” I pulled out more drawers. “I just can’t seem to find the corkscrew. I remember placing it right here earlier, but I can’t find it.”

  “That’s probably because I moved it this morning.” He slammed it onto the counter and my head shot up, coming face to face with his glare.

  My eyes widened and I felt all the color leaving my face, felt my jaw dropping out of pure shock. For several seconds, there were no words spoken between the two of us—only anger rolling off of him in waves and complete and utter embarrassment coming from me.

  This was his apartment. I’d just brought him here for a one-night stand and given him a tour of his own fucking apartment…

  I stepped back, my heart pounding loudly against my chest as my mouth struggled to find any words to say. I debated whether I should run past him and rush down the emergency exit stairs to end this night for good. Or if I should calmly say, “Sorry,” and simply leave, as if this had never happened.

  He stood glaring at me with his eyes narrowed, so I glanced toward the door, but he stepped to the left and blocked me, as if he’d read my mind.

  “How the fuck did you get a key to my apartment, Gillian?” His eyes were cold.

  “I…I um…”

  “Spare me the goddamn ellipses.” He hissed. “How the fuck did you get a key to my apartment?

  “I didn’t actually get a key.”

  “It just magically walked into your life one day with my address?”

  “I’m trying to explain…”

  “Try fucking harder.” He looked as if
he was seconds away from blowing up on me.

  “I work in housekeeping here during the week,” I said, swallowing. “And since I’m usually assigned to your place, I always get a key…But sometimes I keep it.”

  “So, is part of your job description to steal my shit whenever I’m away?”

  “No, and I’ve never, ever—” I stuttered. “I’ve never—”

  “Never stolen?” He walked over to my side of the counter, stepping right in front of me.

  “It’s true. I’ve never stolen anything from you.”

  “Then you must have a very distorted definition of what that word means. You’re stealing a space you didn’t pay for, a very expensive space that belongs to someone else and is supposed to be private. Is that not what stealing is? Taking something that doesn’t belong to you?”

  I stood completely still and silent, pinned to the spot by his hard gaze.

  “I take it that the blue bag that is currently hidden underneath my sink belongs to you?”

  I nodded.

  “And the strawberry shampoo that you just fucking buried behind the glass bottles in my shower is yours as well?”

  “Yes.” My cheeks were on fire.

  “Exactly,” he said, clenching his jaw. “So, as surprising and gratifying as it is to finally come face to face with my unwanted and thieving-ass roommate, I would appreciate it if you got the hell out of my apartment and stayed out of it for the rest of your unfortunate employment here. He snatched the keycard from beneath my purse and pointed to the door. “Get the fuck out. Now.”

  I stood there, staring at him, watching him clench his jaw even harder.

  “Do I need to call security?” he asked. “Do you not understand what ‘Get the fuck out of my condo’ means?”

  “I know exactly what it means.” I snapped, feeling heated and upset about the way he was talking to me, about how he’d so quickly flipped the switch. “And I will definitely leave, Jake—after you thank me.”

  “What the fuck?” He crossed his arms. “What did you just say?”

  “I said, I will leave, Jake.” I spoke slowly, hissing right back at him. “After you thank me.”

  “You want me to thank you for playing fucking Goldilocks in my apartment?”

  “No, I—”

  “You want me to thank you for breaking and entering?” He stepped closer and closer to me, backing me onto the edge of the other kitchen counter. “For drinking my best wine and bringing strangers home to fuck you? Or should I be thanking you for using my shower and leaving your goddamn scent all over my sheets?” His face was red. “Please enlighten me about what part of this fucked up situation you think I should be thanking you for right now.”

  “I want you to thank me for watering your goddamn plants every day. Every. Day.” I fired back. “I even make time to do it on the days I’m not assigned to your room since you bought fifty fucking perennials and you clearly don’t know how to take care of them at all. If you think they’ve managed to survive all this time because of your charm, you’re sadly mistaken.”

  “Gillian…” A vein in his neck swelled.

  “I’m not finished talking, Jake,” I said, beyond pissed and unable to stop. “I want you to thank me for closing the windows whenever it rains since you have a terrible habit of always leaving them open, for arranging all the books in your library by color so the sunlight won’t damage the spines, and for collecting all of your mail and organizing it by date. I bring it up from the mailroom and leave it on your counter to make it ten times easier for you. You can’t possibly think it’s the mailman who goes through all that trouble.”

  “Also,” I said, crossing my arms. “I want you to thank me—again and again, for refilling your Coke can supply whenever it gets low. You haven’t had to buy any Coke in months. Months. And you only buy specialty cans for some reason. They’re very hard to find in this city.”

  He stared at me, not saying a single word.

  “You could also thank me for filling out some of your unfinished crossword puzzles, but if you want to leave that particular ‘thank you’ out, I can deal with that.”

  He was still staring at me, his eyes narrowed.

  “And since we’re speaking of crosswords, and you’re clearly having trouble with this concept,” I said, “a two-word phrase. Eight letters. Popular saying that expresses gratitude.”

  He uncrossed his arms, and his expression slowly softened as a slight smile tugged at his lips.

  “With all due respect, Jake…” I swallowed, glancing at the door. “Your ‘thank you’ needs to be verbal. Otherwise, I’ll be standing here until I get it.”

  He let out a low laugh and picked up the corkscrew, slowly uncorking the wine. He poured one glass and handed it to me. As he poured a glass for himself, he kept his eyes on me, his sexy smile unwavering.

  I downed my drink in one nervous gulp and he poured me another. Then another.

  “Just so you know…” I said, feeling bolder after drinking a third refill. “A few glasses of wine are not equivalent to a thank you.”

  “Trust me.” He tipped his glass back. “We’re going to get to that…” He took my glass from me and placed it into the sink. Then he clasped my hand and pulled me after him.

  “For the record,” he said, gesturing toward the white frames on the walls. “That’s Dubai, The Philippines, Moscow, and…Ironically, the bottom right one is Tokyo.” He rolled his eyes and pulled me across the room, into the private library.

  Letting my hand go, he looked at the bookshelves, then back at me. “Thank you for your attempt at trying to be thoughtful while stealing shit from me.” He picked up a crossword booklet from a chair and tossed it into the trash. “And for filling out my fucking crossword puzzles without me having to ask. I’m not sure how I’ve ever survived this long without you.”

  “Thank yous aren’t typically delivered with venom.”

  “They’re not typically delivered with fucking either.” He pressed me back against the bookshelf and stamped his mouth over mine, making me forget whatever else I’d planned to say.

  His tongue slid between my lips, demanding full control of this kiss, and everything around me suddenly became a blur. His teeth tugged at my bottom lip as his eyes met mine.

  “You’re a goddamn thief and a liar, Gillian…” he whispered against my mouth as he slid his hand between my thighs and tore off my soaked panties. “A goddamn thief and a liar.”

  I started to respond to him, but I couldn’t. He pushed me back against the bookshelf again, forcing hardcovers and paperbacks to topple onto the floor, and he repeated his words again.

  “Have you brought anyone else to my fucking condo?” He pushed my dress up to my breasts, pausing to unhook my bra.

  “No…” I stared at him as he pulled my dress over my head, as he tossed it across the room.

  “Why don’t I believe you?”

  “It’s true… I haven’t brought anyone else here.” I moaned as his mouth met mine again, as he kissed me harder, not letting me go until I was nearly breathless.

  He stepped back, looking me up and down, and then he unzipped his pants. “Turn around and grab the shelf.”

  I didn’t move. I was too captivated by the sight of him unzipping his pants—the sight of him pulling out his cock. Holding back a gasp as I saw how huge it really was, I watched as he pulled a condom out of his pocket and put it on.

  “Gillian…” His eyes met mine and he moved close again, gripping my waist and spinning me around. “Grab the shelf,” he whispered harshly into my ear. “Now.”

  My hands gripped the shelving and he pressed his mouth against the back of my neck, keeping his hands against my hips as he spread my legs wider.

  Slapping my ass cheek, he pressed his cock against my soaked slit, and without warning, he slid all the way into me—stretching me and making me scream.

  I gripped the shelves even harder, crying out as instant pleasure rushed through my veins. I tried to move, to
adjust to the length of him, but he held my hips hostage and began pounding into me.

  I’d never been fucked like this, never even thought it could feel this fucking good.

  “Oh…Oh god…” I shut my eyes and moaned as one of his hands skimmed up my stomach and to my breasts—harshly pinching my nipples.

  “You’re so tight…” he breathed against my skin. “So fucking tight…” His cock continued sliding in and out of me, hitting spots I never knew existed, and as I moaned again, he slowly released my left hand.

  “Touch your clit.” He bit my ear, grabbing my wrist once more and moving my hand to my pussy.

  I pressed my finger against my clit, feeling how sensitive and swollen it was, but I froze. As if he was upset that I wasn’t following instructions, he pressed his own finger against it—torturing me, as he sensuously rubbed it in circles.

  My breath caught in my throat as my legs began to go weak, as the strokes from his cock became too much to handle. I was screaming, on the verge of coming, and he suddenly pulled out of me and pulled me down to the floor.

  My bare back burned as my body slid against the carpet, as he entered me again and wrapped my legs around his waist. The feeling of him in this position was too intense, too much.

  “Jake…” I begged as his eyes locked onto mine. “Jake…”

  “Yes?”

  “I…I’m about to…”

  A cocky smile came to his lips, but his fingers dug into my skin and he sped up his rhythm. His mouth covered my hardened nipple, and he sucked it into his mouth—pushing me closer and closer to the edge.

  My hands fisted handfuls of his hair and I couldn’t resist any longer. My legs convulsed and I screamed, coming harder than I ever had in my life.

  Jake pumped into me a few more times, cursing as he found his own release.

  I lay back on the carpet—his cock still deep inside of me, his mouth inches away from my lips. I struggled to catch my breath, as he rubbed his hands against my chest.

  He whispered something I couldn’t understand, and then he slowly pulled out of me and stood up to throw away the condom.

  I tried to stand, but the muscles in my legs were too weak.

  Sighing, I shut my eyes and felt him wiping a warm cloth between my legs minutes later. I murmured, “Thank you,” and tried to get up again, but he placed him hand against my stomach—pinning me still.