Landing the Air Marshal (Snowpocalypse)

by Jennifer Blackwood

  Not that they’d penalize him for anything off duty, but it was just the principle of keeping everything related to his job, airplane included, professional. It definitely wasn’t his professional side that chose the seat next to the smoking hot brunette, though. He could have had a whole row to himself. That would be the smart thing. And yet, here he was. Even if it hadn’t been the smartest decision to sit next to someone so tempting, it didn’t mean he couldn’t talk to her—his mama did teach him to be a proper southern gentleman, after all. An hour into the flight and all he’d managed to learn was where she lived and that she was traveling on business. He got a more detailed life story from his dentist in a quarter of the time.

  Just as she plugged her headphones into her tablet, he asked, “What movie are you watching?”

  Whatever it was, it was most likely more entertaining than the onboard presentation of The Same Damn Movies That Play Every Time Gage Michaels Flies.

  “Need You Tonight.”

  He’d heard of the movie. In fact, his sister and her old friends from high school had camped out for the premiere. From what he’d seen of the previews, the movie promised a rich guy and bondage. “Isn’t that the movie based off of—”

  “Yeah,” she said quickly, as a flush filled her cheeks. “It’s for work.”

  “Oh.” Shit, a job that required employees to watch porn? Sign him right up. He’d take one for the team.

  “I’m researching the set.” She swallowed hard, the flush in her cheeks deepening and trailing down her neck. He found it ironic that a person who oozed sex appeal blushed every time anything sexual was mentioned. When he thought of people from L.A., innocence wasn’t the first word that came to mind. Hell, it didn’t even make the top fifty. And here was little miss librarian, red as his grandma’s prized heirloom tomatoes. Gage had the sudden urge to rip through that blouse to see just where the flush ended.

  “Does it have a penthouse, too?”

  “Here’s hoping. Or else my boss is going to get a really nasty call when I get off this plane.” She smiled like she was joking, but Gage would put money on her following through with that sentiment. She looked like she didn’t take shit from anyone. And nothing hit below the belt like a woman who spoke her mind.

  “For his sake, I hope.”

  Her blue eyes shifted from the screen, landing on Gage’s lips. “So I’m guessing you’re not from L.A.?” She nervously twirled the cord of one earbud around her finger.

  “My accent give me away?” Normally, his family gave him a hard time because his accent had dwindled over years of travel. It only came back in full force when he came home. Guess some things stuck with you no matter how much distance and time went by.

  She blushed again and nodded. Something about this sweet gesture made his dick press harder against the fly of his pants. Damn, he’d love to tear her out of that seat, take her into the lavatory, and make that whole tight little body flush as he fucked her until she screamed his name. He ignored the vision and focused back on their conversation.

  “Charleston. Born and raised.” Even saying the name of the town filled him with homesickness.

  “I hear it’s beautiful this time of year.”

  “It’s beautiful every time of year,” he corrected her. And it was true. Even though he traveled most of the year for his job, been to places like Greece and Bora Bora, he’d always have a soft spot for Charleston. Along with his family and two best buddies, it had the best beaches and food on the East Coast, at least in his opinion.

  “Does your family still live there? Girlfriend?” She slid that last question in quietly, but with expert precision.

  He gnawed on the inside of his cheek and regarded her.

  “Yes to family, no to the girlfriend. Single, in case that’s what you were wondering.”

  “Yes.” She paused a moment and cringed. “I mean, no. God, I’m sorry. I’m not usually like this.” A tiny groan escaped her lips as she smoothed her thumb over the fabric of her skirt, staring down.

  Did she know what that did to him? Those noises, her playing with that insanely tight skirt? He should push up that skirt and show her just how much she affected him.

  “Like what?” Forward? Incredibly sexy? Because the way she kneaded her thumb over her thigh had him imaging her fingertips working his cock.

  “Such a klutzy creep. I’m probably the worst seatmate in existence.”

  He laughed. Any guy would be lucky to get an accidental cock-grab from her. “You’re not a creep. Maybe the handsiest seatmate I’ve had, though.” He winked.

  She buried her face in her palms. “Please don’t remind me.”

  Why was it so hot that she got all flustered? He definitely got the impression she’d been truthful when she said this didn’t happen to her often, which made it that much hotter. He affected the uptight Hollywood girl, and he took perverse pleasure in this.

  “I don’t mind. And trust me, you’re not the worst seatmate in existence.” Hell, he wished there’d be some more goddamn turbulence so she’d accidentally grab his cock again. To take his mind off that train wreck of a thought, he continued, “One time, this guy brought a whole bucket of KFC chicken wings on a flight and sang along to Les Miserables while watching it on his laptop. We hit a rough patch, and let’s just say, Mr. Jean Valjean wannabe didn’t handle the turbulence well, and I had to buy a new suit.”

  She groaned, and her pretty pink lips curled into a grimace. “Good to know the bar is set so high.”

  “See? You could be way worse.” He set a reassuring hand on her thigh, and the slender muscles coiled under his touch.

  She let out a deep, shaky breath. “Noted. I’ll wait to belt my version of “I Dreamed a Dream” until after we’ve landed.”

  He leaned in closer—he couldn’t help it. Something about her just pulled Gage in like a fucking magnet. “Oh, I think I’d really like to see that.”

  She squirmed in her seat and worried her bottom lip between her teeth. “Sorry, my Broadway renditions are strictly performed in the shower. Sold out show to the loofah and shampoo.” She cleared her throat and pointed to the screen. “Well, I should probably watch for a little bit.”

  “Good idea.” Jesus. He crumpled the magazine between his hands and shifted to adjust himself. He couldn’t get the image out of his head of Abby in the shower, stripped of that tight skirt and blouse, water cascading down her chest, over the swells of her breasts to the space between her thighs. Fuck, he was hard just imagining what he could do to her wet body with his tongue, his hands, his cock, everything. He wanted to do a lot more than imagine.

  Chapter Three

  Gage flipped another page in his magazine and stared at the prices until the numbers blurred together. Wineglass holder necklace, an alien butler, and a T. rex sculpture—all just useless overpriced shit for jackasses who wanted the prestige of saying they owned something from SkyMall. He folded the page and closed his eyes. Jesus, this was boring. What wasn’t boring? Abby and her damn cute bumbliness that was somehow sexy. He’d managed to keep to himself for the better part of the second hour of the flight while she watched her movie. He only had to hold out for another couple of hours and his temptation would be walking off this plane in a pair of fuck-me stilettos, and he’d be back to normal.

  She gasped at something on the screen, and his attention shifted to her, then down to the movie, and damn, this looked like legit porn. A little too showy for his taste, but definitely hot shit. The guy had a woman bent over his lap and smacked her bare ass. Gage looked back to Abby to gauge her reaction, to see if this was an I’m horrified gasp or an I’m turned on gasp. A flush crept up her neck again as she squirmed in her seat, crossing and uncrossing her legs.

  Oh, definitely the latter of the two.

  He looked back at the magazine. What kind of pervert watched a woman watch porn? Him. But he couldn’t manage to look away, not from those sexy pouty lips or the rise and fall of her chest as her shirt molded to those breasts.
He wondered what she’d do if she were home alone watching this. Close her eyes and let her hands roam over her body? Reach into her nightstand for a vibrator? He’d put money on Miss Librarian being a screamer in the sack.

  And you should stop, because she’s a passenger, his damn conscience reminded him. Tell that to his dick, currently at half-mast. The movie hadn’t turned him on, but Abby sure as hell did.

  Nobody on this flight knew he was an air marshal. If he wanted to give in just this once, who would it really hurt? Hell, he was off duty.

  Abby’s breath sped up, her full breasts pressing against her blouse, showcasing everything through the thin material. Sweet fucking Jesus. Gage wanted nothing more than to run his tongue along her nipples, take little nips and wet the fabric until he could determine the exact shade of pink of those sweet, perky tits.

  Gage groaned and shifted in his seat to reposition his erection. As a rule, marshals were to look at all passengers as androgynous beings, nothing to fantasize about, but Abby visibly turned on was about as easy to ignore as the airplane going through extreme turbulence. For Christ’s sake, this woman was all curves in all the perfect places. He wasn’t even pretending to look at the magazine anymore.

  A tiny exhale curled out of her mouth, and it took everything in him to remain in his seat instead of ripping off the damn seat belt, throwing her over his shoulder, and tearing off all her clothes in the fucking lavatory. Insane, because he’d never had this urge before. But now he had to grip the armrest just to keep his fingers from reaching over to her side.

  He focused back on the movie. The guy had now moved on to binding the woman’s hands and then tying her to the bed. Abby nibbled on her bottom lip, and his resolve to be an upstanding citizen dissolved. To hell with it—he deserved to give in just once. He’d spent his whole life following the straight and narrow, and look where that got him—alone at thirty-two.

  The flight attendant came through the curtain, brandishing a glass of champagne, and gave him an appreciative smile. She was cute, in the wholesome, southern girl charm kind of way. The type his family would absolutely try to hook him up with, but that did nothing for him. He apparently liked the uptight librarian, accidental dick-grabbing type a little too much to notice or care about anything else at this point.

  She stopped at their row. Abby quickly turned over her tablet and yanked out an earbud before the flight attendant could see what she was watching.

  “Ma’am, your champagne,” she said, handing her the glass. This was Abby’s second one in as many hours and the sweet flush on her cheeks was the only indication that the alcohol was affecting her. “Can I get anything for you, sir? We have our complementary first-class meal.”

  “No, thank you.”

  The flight attendant frowned, apparently disappointed by his response. “Well, be sure to let me know if you need anything else.”

  He nodded. “I will.”

  After the flight attendant disappeared into the front again, Gage worked up the courage to say something to Abby before his conscience decided to make a reappearance. This was the first woman he’d felt this way around in years…not since his ex.

  The SkyMall magazine crumpled in his grip as the internal debate ping-ponged around in his head. He had a little over two hours left of this flight and didn’t want to waste it, because hell if he was disembarking without at least giving it a shot. As sure as the pulse beating rapidly against his temples, he had to have her. Even for a couple hours. Something about her flipped a switch to some primal need, and the fucks he gave about work took a backseat.

  He cleared his throat. “That’s quite a movie.”

  “Yeah. The set is great for research purposes.” She mashed her lips together.

  Oh, sweetheart, my cock would love to research that pretty little mouth of yours.

  Before he could reign in his less than altruistic thoughts, he said, “Is that all you’re researching?”

  She sat up in her seat and blustered a bit. “Yes. Of course.”

  A few moments went by with Gage holding his tongue. But hell, he’d already started the conversation, might as well see where it went.

  He jutted his chin toward the screen. “He’s doing it all wrong, by the way.”

  Her brows pushed together. As she turned to him, she re-crossed her legs and her foot bumped against his. “Doing what wrong?”

  “The knot. It’s too tight. Might cause circulation problems for her.” Maybe he’d taken it too far, but thoughts of tying her to his bed and licking and sucking every damn inch of her left him with no regret. It was like a boulder falling down a hill—he couldn’t stop these thoughts if he wanted to. They’d steamroll him if he tried. He clenched his fist, forcing himself to keep still, to not reach over and run his palm down those perfectly tempting curves.

  She arched a brow and continued winding the headphone cord around her finger. The movement was slow, methodical, and he wondered how her hands would feel working over his cock.

  “How would you know? Do you…tie people up often?” she asked.

  He smirked. “When they ask me nicely.” It wasn’t a regular occurrence in his bed, but it was fun to pull out new tricks to keep things fresh.

  “Oh.” It was more of an exhale than a word, like something that would come out of a woman’s mouth when he pounded into her. Fuck if he’d ever heard such a sexy sound in his life. And now he knew he was a goner. He needed that sound to come out of her mouth while he was actually doing something to her.

  Her reaction was a dead giveaway that she’d never been exposed to anything past missionary. Fuck. He was so far past inappropriate now that there was absolutely no point in holding back. This need to have her, to dominate her, to have her scream his name, hit like a freight train.

  “Well, don’t let me get in the way of your research.”

  Watching her research all night long would be the best damn job he could possibly think of. Especially when she squirmed in her seat. They should really just save space and have her sit on his lap, that tight ass grinding against his cock.

  He was going to hell for these thoughts, that was for sure.

  “Okay.” Her voice still had that breathiness that sent him deeper into his spiral of lust. She cued up the movie again, one ear bud still dangling in the space between her breasts, and this time he did nothing to hide the fact that he was watching her watch the movie.

  Abby let out a shaky exhale as the guy on the screen smacked the woman’s ass. So, she liked the idea of having it rough? He could get on board with that. The actor’s hand whipped across the screen again, connecting with the back of the woman’s thighs, and Abby let out a tiny gasp threaded with a moan.

  “You like that?” he whispered in her ear. It was risky, being this forward with her, but what did he have to lose? After this, he’d never see her again. Gage had always harbored a fantasy about joining the mile-high club, but it always seemed a little sketchy, especially with his job. But he was off duty, and the way this girl moved, smelled, talked…it made him want to turn that into a reality. He wanted the full five-senses experience with this woman who had the look of someone in need of a good fucking. Or maybe it was him that was in need of this. Either way, the gentlemanly thing to do would be to include her in these mile-high plans. Yep, his earlier good intentions were long gone now. They were lost in the abyss, along with his deeply imbedded southern manners and his ability to give a shit.

  “Like what?”

  “Being spanked?”

  Her perfectly straight white teeth pulled at her plump lower lip. “I-I don’t know. I’ve never had that happen.”

  He held back a groan. That was a damn travesty. In fact, he should flip her over his lap, yank up her skirt, smooth his palm over her ass and give it a good swat just to show her what she’d been missing out on all these years. Then he’d set her back in her seat, get on his knees, and run his tongue through the space between her thighs as she writhed beneath his touch.

  �
�Well, that’s a shame,” he muttered.

  Her gaze met his, those sweet, innocent blue eyes boring into him with such intensity it nearly sucker-punched the breath out of his chest. Damn, a girl like her was what you called classically beautiful. But with a few strands of hair fallen from her otherwise immaculately styled hair, and the pink in her cheeks, she was downright fuckable. She ran her tongue along her lips as she stared at his. Did she know what that did to him? Before now, his three-month dry spell had been an inconvenience, but now it was problematic. He needed a thirst-quencher in the form of this uptight brunette. His cock strained against his black dress pants, clearly visible now, even in the dimly lit cabin. Je-sus.

  “What?” she asked.

  What was getting into him? This was a complete stranger, a passenger, and a woman who was trying to conduct research for her job. And yet, he really wanted to know what kind of panties lay beneath that skirt. If he had to wager, he’d peg her for a thong girl.

  “I said, if you’re interested in researching that, I’m more than happy to help.”

  He would gladly volunteer to initiate her into this spanking rite of passage.

  …

  This escalated quickly.

  And the feminist in Abby couldn’t find it in herself to be appalled or disgusted. This gorgeous man was talking to her about spanking, and some sick, repressed part of her psyche desperately wanted to be on the receiving end.

  The movie continued to play, even though she was having a hard time focusing. She should definitely be studying the plush seating offset by the dramatic blue walls, but all she could seem to notice was Gage’s breath, his hand that had edged to her side of the armrest, the spread of his thighs. Namely, what was between those thighs.

  She peered back at the screen. The heroine was now tied up and blindfolded, something that sounded wickedly delicious. She glanced at Gage’s loosened black tie, and if she were braver, she’d ask for him to bind her hands and take her to the first-class bathroom. Or maybe search him for that pair of handcuffs she secretly hoped he had on him.