by J J Monroe
I can’t take this any longer. I’m about to go into meltdown. Reaching for his mouth, I decide to step it up a gear. Kissing him harder and harder still I go in search of the prize. The belt buckle is a solid, manly affair, but easy enough to control one-handed. Popping the top button of his Levis is simple, and by twisting the fabric the other metal studs give, allowing my wandering hands direct access. As my hand closes upon him I feel the sigh echo through him. He is rigid and more than a handful, which is just what the doctor ordered. I ease my palm up the length of his shaft and feel him throb against my skin.
‘You need to be careful with that.’ Henry nuzzles my earlobe. ‘It’s a seriously loaded weapon. It could go off at any moment.’
‘It had better not,’ I reply. ‘Otherwise I will be severely disappointed.’ I give him a look. He smiles, but I see the passion burning in his eyes. ‘And another thing,’ I continue, warming to the theme. ‘Why exactly are we still semi-clothed?’
‘What’s the hurry?’ he replies.
‘I’m about to burst!’ I explain. ‘Seriously, I can’t take much more of this.’
‘Then why didn’t you say?’ he replies, the good humour evident in his voice. He is relaxed, enjoying this playful seduction, but I need more. I need zero to a hundred miles an hour right about now.
His palm rests against my belly button.
Now we’re talking.
His hand slinks lower, sliding between the boundary of silk and skin, delving into the wetness below. His lips are hot and seductive as he slips a finger into the folds of my sex. I murmur appreciatively as he delves deeper, sliding further into me.
Yes, this is exactly what I need!
Wandering hands slip the clasp of my brassiere and I allow it to fall away, revealing pert nipples in need of some serious attention. He reads my mind. His tongue is playful but rough, sizzling over my nipple and causing it to sing out for more as the warmth of his tongue engulfs. I tug at his manhood and he eases his finger further into me, seeking out my pearl.
‘Get naked,’ I murmur as pleasure invades my senses, jumbling the thoughts in my brain. His finger slips away and instantly I want him back, touching me, rubbing me, fondling my wetness until I am numb with pleasure. His T-shirt reveals granite-hard muscles and time well spent in the gym. Easing off his boots, he shrugs off his jeans and instinctively I lick my lips at the sight of the bulge in his shorts, straining to be free. I can stand this no more. The sexual tension is like electricity crackling in the room. It must have its release just like I must have mine. I step closer and peel his shorts away, revealing his gorgeous nakedness. As he backs me up against the wall I can smell his desire mingling with my own scent. I reach for him, enclosing his girth. I ease my palm up and down the length of his shaft, slowly at first, but I am impatient and the rhythm builds quickly.
His fingers creep inside me and the bedroom seems like a million miles away.
‘The bedroom,’ Henry mutters.
‘Too far,’ I murmur as he plays me like his very own marionette. It is coming, this wave of pleasure threatening to wash me away.
His hand closes on mine, drawing me away from him. I look into his big, brown eyes and know it is time. He drags my thong clear and presses me against the wall, his hands closing on my butt cheeks, lifting me to him. I enclose my legs around his waist, manoeuvring myself until …
The feeling is blissful, better than any drug. His head nuzzles between the folds of my sex, gently kissing my lips as I slide down. I feel him spread my lips, stretching my folds as he enters me, engulfing me, penetrating me to the core. I murmur my approval. He kisses me hard, thrusting hard inside me and the groan slips out. I wrap my legs tightly around him, seeking out his mouth as my nipples burn like roman candles. He is merciless, a machine pounding into me, harder and deeper, faster and stronger, and I scream out my encouragement as I lose his mouth and he finds my nipple. It sparks in his mouth, and as I close my eyes I feel the room ignite around us.
The walls are beginning to smoulder but he refuses to concede, entering me harder still. I gasp and begin to melt as my pussy starts to flame. His tongue burns my other nipple, his lips a fiery furnace turning my flesh into putty and I can’t stop, thrusting harder against him as the flames lick and dance all around. We bounce off the wall as the plaster crumbles around us. He guides me to the leather sofa and we tumble and fall and I lose him and I am desperate for him. My calf catches the side of the coffee table and I wince in pain, turning away to find his lips again. They close on mine, sucking the life out of my body, and we collapse into the carpet, rolling. I come up gasping for air, straddling my prize, reaching for him, finding his manhood and sliding once more atop him, claiming his magnificent beast as my own.
His eyes open wide as I slide all the way down him until there is nowhere left to go and he is in me completely. His hands reach for my breasts, squeezing them, massaging them, and I start to ride him as the flames circle across the ceiling and meet. The whole world is on fire, but I couldn’t care less as I work my pelvis and feel him slide in and out of me. Is there a more wondrous feeling on this earth than this feeling of being entered so completely?
And then it begins and the beginning is the end. I feel the contractions hit me like a wave and I can’t hold on and I don’t want to. I yell out my acceptance as the feelings tear through me and my orgasm takes hold like a fever. Henry moans and I feel him explode inside me, hot, salty come lining the walls of my sex. I close my eyes and let the world burn around me. A long way off, I hear Henry sigh. I lean forward, collapsing into his welcoming arms. I hear his heart beat hammering against my chest and it feels like home.
Chapter Five – Secrets
‘So who is this mysterious stranger, then?’ I ask my colleague as we stand together in the First Class galley.
‘Are you seriously telling me you don’t know who that is?’ replies Katie, shaking her head.
‘I am.’
‘I suppose you haven’t been flying very long, have you?’ she adds.
‘No, I haven’t.’
‘OK,’ she says, pursing her lips. ‘That hunk of deliciousness is possibly the greatest man alive.’
‘That’s a bold statement.’
‘It is,’ agrees Katie, but she doesn’t seem in a hurry to retract her outlandish remark.
‘I take it you have proof?’
‘What are you, a journalist?’
‘No.’ I smile. ‘But it’s a pretty big statement to make.’
Another stewardess joins us, by the name of Lauren.
‘Izzy here has never heard of Mr Remarkable.’
‘No, that can’t be true!’ exclaims the newcomer to the galley.
‘You know who she’s talking about just by the nickname?’ I say.
‘Everybody around here knows about Mr Remarkable,’ explains Lauren.
‘So how did he get the nickname apart from the obvious?’ I ask.
The girls look at each other and smile.
‘Girl, you have it bad,’ suggests Katie.
‘What do you mean?’ I reply, playing it dumb.
‘We all want to sleep with him, but that’s not what makes him remarkable,’ says Lauren.
‘Isn’t it?’
‘You think that’s how he earned his nickname?’ questions Katie.
‘You mean neither of you have slept with him?’
‘We’ve tried,’ admits Lauren, smiling at Katie. ‘Trust me, we’ve all tried.’
‘Is he gay, then?’
‘He’s not gay,’ says Katie. ‘He’s definitely not gay.’
‘I guess he’s just choosy,’ decides Lauren. ‘I’d sleep with him in a heartbeat, but then I’d still sleep with him even if he didn’t look like a stud muffin.’
‘Now I don’t understand,’ I say, shaking my head.
‘Then let us tell you a little about Mr Henry Hopper,’ begins Katie.
‘I’m all ears.’
‘You heard about the latest episode i
n the book of Henry Hopper, didn’t you?’ clarifies Katie.
‘You mean buying the ticket for the crying girl,’ I say.
‘Yes.’
‘It’s not the first time,’ explains Lauren. ‘Legend has it that Henry used to fly a lot as a child. His parents were back and forth across the Atlantic, so much so that he pretty much grew up in and around airports and planes. His mother passed when he was a teenager, which must have been hard for him. Then he and his father started drifting apart.’
‘No one really knows how or why it started, and whenever anyone has ever tried to ask he just smiles and discreetly changes the subject,’ says Katie. ‘Maybe it’s the travelling,’ she suggests. ‘It has opened his eyes to the world around and the suffering, or maybe he’s just a very kind man, but he’s the closest thing to a saint I think any of us will ever meet.’
I look at her.
‘You still don’t get it, do you?’ insists Lauren.
‘It was kind what he did for the crying girl, but the man’s father is a billionaire so I get why he would do it.’
‘But that’s the tip of the iceberg,’ Katie assures me. ‘My sister was due to get married two years ago. There was a freak storm and the marquee, everything, was ruined. She was devastated. It was two days before the wedding. Henry happened to be on my flight and must have overheard me talking about it. Next thing I know he’s made some calls and my sister suddenly has a new venue, just like that. He wouldn’t take a penny for his troubles.’
‘OK.’
‘A friend of ours got herself in trouble in Dubai on a stopover. Henry Hopper is in town visiting one of his father’s hotels. Henry goes out for the night. The charges mysteriously get dropped. He flies her out of the country on a privately chartered plane that night. He is a saint. You ask any of the girls and they all know someone with a story to tell about Henry Hopper and they all end the same way. He fixes the problem with little or no fuss.’
‘How come the press has never heard of this?’ I ask. The question is on my lips before I can stop it.
‘He never asks for anything in return except for one thing,’ explains Katie. ‘You don’t talk about it.’
‘Why wouldn’t he want people to know?’
‘He’s a very private man,’ says Lauren. ‘He’s Mr Remarkable. That’s his name. He doesn’t need to have another and people do know. They just choose not to tell.’
‘So you see, Miss Renwick, that’s why I’d sleep with Mr Henry Hopper in a flash, even if he didn’t look like such a handsome devil. He has the kindest heart I have ever known.’
‘So none of you have slept with him?’
‘We flirt and he flirts and it never goes too far,’ says Katie.
‘And the legend of Mr Remarkable continues to grow,’ adds Lauren. ‘And that seems to be just the way he wants it.’
‘So he doesn’t have a girlfriend?’
‘No,’ they reply with a collective shake of their heads.
‘And you’re sure he’s not gay?’
‘He’s absolutely not gay, but it wouldn’t even matter if he was,’ says Lauren.
‘Because you’d sleep with him anyway,’ I say.
‘That’s right,’ she says with a nod.
‘Excuse me,’ whispers a voice through the curtains.
Everyone looks at each other. As I am closest, I ease back the curtain.
‘Hi,’ whispers the girl who I first met crying back in the airport in Los Angeles.
‘Hi,’ I reply.
‘I don’t mean to intrude, but I was really hoping to talk to Mr Henry Hopper. I believe he’s the gentleman I need to thank for being on this flight. Do you think it would be OK?’
‘I’m sure it will,’ replies Lauren. ‘Why don’t you just wait here and we’ll let him know that you want to speak to him.’
‘Only if he’s not busy,’ insists the crying girl.
‘Why don’t you go ask Mr Hopper, Izzy?’ suggests Katie.
‘OK,’ I say and set off from the galley, unsure why I suddenly feel quite so nervous. Before he was just some hunk I intended getting some with, but now he is an entirely different prospect and my earlier plan is going up in smoke before my very eyes.
He is quietly reading a film magazine, seemingly unaware of the furore around him.
‘Excuse me, Mr Hopper,’ I say, standing at his elbow. He looks up, and up close those huge brown orbs really are something.
‘Hi,’ he says.
‘I’m sorry to bother you,’ I begin.
‘That’s OK.’ His voice is quiet, but has a resounding depth to it. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘There’s a young lady who’s very keen to talk to you. She would like to thank you for your act of generosity earlier today.’
‘You were with her in the airport, that’s right?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’m happy to talk to her, but she really doesn’t have to worry.’
‘All the same, I imagine she wants to thank you,’ I say. ‘It’s what I would want to do if someone had shown me such kindness.’
‘OK,’ he says with a smile. ‘I’ll be right there.’
As I turn to leave, he turns his head back. ‘Miss, I was wondering if I might have another pillow. Would that be possible?’ He is smiling at me, but we both know that he is gently mocking me at the same time and I suddenly realise that it is definitely on.
‘I deserve that,’ I say. ‘The girls were talking and I made an assumption.’
‘What do they say about assumptions?’ He has a relaxed manner, one that is easy to warm to.
‘Can you blame me for jumping to that conclusion? I mean, look at you and look at them. Why wouldn’t I think that?’
‘I was always taught never to judge a book by its cover,’ replies Henry Hopper. The way he is looking at me I can feel my temperature starting to rise.
‘You’re not real, are you?’ I say. ‘This is all a dream. You’re actually a figment of my imagination and in a minute I’m going to wake up.’
‘Probably,’ he agrees. ‘But before you do wake up tell me one thing.’
‘What would you like to know?’
‘Marilyn Monroe slept only in Chanel No 5. What do you sleep in?’
‘Wouldn’t you like to know?’ As I turn away my heart is pounding and my groin feels funny. This is a feeling I have not felt for a long time.
I watch Mr Henry Hopper as he invites the girl to sit down next to him and orders her a drink. He has no airs or graces but listens intently to the girl asking her about her family and I am transfixed. The girls are right. This is no ordinary man. There is something calm and gentle and unbelievably warm about him. It would be easy to fall for him. It would be so easy to fall for him, but that is not the objective so I need to stay strong and stay focused, but boy, joining the Mile High Club with Mr Henry Hopper could be a whole lot of fun.
The girl stays a while. He is the perfect host, but eventually, despite wanting to remain where she is, she realises that she is in danger of outstaying her welcome and quietly returns to her seat in Business Class. I could wait a while, play it cool and seem distant, but my whole body is buzzing and suddenly Mr Henry Hopper is at the very centre of my universe. And anyway, the man specifically requested another pillow!
‘Your pillow, sir,’ I whisper slightly theatrically.
‘And there was me thinking you’d forgotten,’ he replies with that easy smile.
‘Not at all.’ I affect a look of mock-indignation. ‘I take my job very seriously, sir.’
‘I’m sure you do.’
‘You were busy,’ I continue, warming to the subject. ‘I didn’t want to disturb you. That would have been rude.’
‘It would have been,’ he agrees. ‘So you’ve been watching me, waiting for an opportunity to deliver this pillow you have so carefully been minding for me.’
‘Yes, but when you say it like that it makes me sound like some creepy stalker,’ I admit.
‘That w
ould be a shame.’
‘What would be?’
‘If you were a creepy sex stalker then I’d be stuffed, well and truly. It’s not like I can get off, is it?’
‘You want to get off?’ I ask, eyes widening. ‘I think I can help you with that.’
‘You do, do you?’ he asks with a conspiratorial air.
‘I can, but just for the record,’ I continue, ‘I never mentioned anything about being a sex stalker.’
‘Was that me just dreaming, then?’ he asks.
It is so definitely on. I can feel my stomach tingling with desire and my nipples are starting to get itchy. Yes, I want this and I’m pretty sure so does Mr Gorgeous himself, but hey, there’s no need to rush this. In fact, maybe I should slow the moment down just to be sure. That way I can get him good and ready.
‘You should be so lucky.’
‘I feel pretty lucky,’ says Henry Hopper, ‘and I was always led to believe one good turn deserves another.’
‘I did bring you a pillow, that’s true,’ I comment. ‘So what good deed will you do for me?’
‘I can think of a few.’ The way he looks at me leaves me in no doubt at all as to where his mind is heading.
‘You want to get down to it right here?’ I ask. ‘I know First Class offers a great many privileges, but I’m not sure where that sits in relation to earning extra air miles.’
‘There is a certain club I have always wanted to join,’ remarks Henry Hopper.
‘You’re not in that club?’
‘No.’
‘That can’t be true,’ I retort playfully.
‘Here we go again. You’re making assumptions, and what did we agree about assumptions?’
‘I’m shocked!’
‘Wait a minute!’ says Henry Hopper. ‘You’re shocked that I’m not in the Mile High Club, not because I’ve asked you to join?’
‘Yes,’ I reply simply.
‘OK.’ He can barely keep the grin from exploding all the way across his face Cheshire cat style.
‘I have a question.’
