what she wasn’t yet sure. But one thing was certain: there was no turning back now.
GREGOR WASN’T A fan of air travel, but he had done it so often in his career that settling in for a New York to London flight was really no big deal. As he settled back in his seat, reclining it now that the seat belt light was off, his mind began to turn over the details of the meetings he had taken over the past few days in the city.
There was talk of launching a new show, a cookbook, even a podcast. And while he was grateful that viewers still wanted to see and hear more from him, the truth was that his heart just wasn’t in it. Ever since things had gone so terribly wrong with Emily, his girlfriend of over five years, he’d been down in the dumps. His friends had tried to cheer him up with several wild nights out in London, Ibiza and even Paris, but nothing had changed his downtrodden mood. His knack for picking up the prettiest girl in the room was still intact. The problem was, those easy hookups just weren’t a thrill anymore.
So when his dear, old friend Bev at the magazine had begged him for an exclusive interview, promising to set him up with her top reporter—who also happened to be dynamic and wildly attractive—he allowed himself to be convinced. Some time spent with a woman who could actually make intelligent conversation sounded pretty good. And besides, when it came to Bev, he knew that there was no stopping her from getting what she wanted. So with a little bit of skepticism in his heart, he had agreed to booking the same flight and opening up his home to a complete stranger.
After flipping through the channels on the in-flight TV, Gregor turned to see that his traveling companion was already fast asleep. He smiled to himself, thinking that Bev knew him better than he had realized. Physically, Faye was his type—blonde, American, fit but not rail thin, with curves in all the right places.
Making sure she was actually asleep, he stole a quick glance at her breasts, the outline of which were nicely visible through her sweater. A feeling started to stir inside him that necessitated him readjusting the front of his jeans. Gregor quickly averted his gaze and grabbed a copy of the free magazine in his seat pocket.
As he absentmindedly paged through it, Faye stirred and stretched and then curled her body into his side. Gregor looked over at her and exhaled with a deep sigh. She was smart and sexy, and there was also an earnestness about her that was totally refreshing. The thought of getting her naked in his bed was very, very appealing.
Keep it professional, old boy, he thought to himself, trying to focus on an article on fly-fishing. Just then, Faye languidly threw her arm across his chest, pressing her ample breasts into his side and making a gentle purring sound as she slept. Gregor rolled his eyes and suddenly felt completely helpless to resist the growing urge she was inadvertently awakening inside of him. As he leaned over to pull her shawl up over her, he accidentally inhaled the sweet scent of her hair—a mixture of jasmine and honeysuckle that went straight to his head, intoxicating him more than any glass of champagne ever could.
Just then, a flight attendant appeared next to him, the same one he thought was flirting with him earlier.
“Excuse me, sir, would your girlfriend like a blanket?” she asked in a hushed tone.
Gregor stuttered momentarily, wondering if he should correct her. “Yes. Thank you very much.”
Clearly, this did not look like what it was—a strictly business relationship. Would he be able to keep it to that? he wondered. When the flight attendant returned with the blanket, he laid it across Faye so that some of it was covering his legs, too. Against his better judgment, he allowed himself to imagine the beautiful American reaching her hand out to touch the growing bulge in his jeans. He thought about what it would be like if she actually undid his zipper, releasing his hardness and stroking it, unbeknownst to their fellow passengers, under the privacy of that airline blanket. Gregor sat back in his seat again, closing his eyes and allowing himself to revel in that sweet fantasy. Faye seemed like a nice girl, which made it all the naughtier, imagining her doing such dirty things to him in public.
“Mmm-mmm…” Faye left like she had no control over the noises that were coming out of her mouth.
“Shhh!” Gregor said, squeezing her ass as he balanced her on the plane lavatory sink. The full length of his manliness was inside her, and she was wetter than she could ever remember being.
In such close quarters, she was forced to look directly into Gregor’s sparkling blue eyes, which was not such a terrible thing except for the fact that it intensified all the sensations she was feeling, making it even more difficult to keep quiet and not arouse the suspicion of the other passengers.
Gregor kept a firm grip on her ass. His motions were quick and deliberate, his eyes flashing with lust as he expertly drilled her, clearly stifling his own need to grunt or make any kind of sound. Wanting to be somehow even closer to him, Faye tilted her pelvis upward so that with each stroke she could feel his body graze up against her clitoris, which sent shivers running up her spine. It was the most pleasurable feeling she had even known—the fullness of Gregor’s manhood inside her combined with the friction against that sensitive nub of nerves. In a moment her hands were in his hair and she pressed her mouth into his shoulder, trying to stop herself from coming. It was no use, as her body exploded in the biggest orgasm she’d ever experienced.
“Oh!” Faye cried out, waking up groggy in her seat. When she realized she’d been dreaming she instinctively clenched her wrap up close around her throat, covering herself as best she could from the curious eyes of her neighbors in the first-class cabin, and the handsome man seated next to her.
“Someone had a nice nap,” Gregor said devilishly, raising an eyebrow at her. Faye quickly sat up, mortified that she had been pressed up against a man she hardly knew. At least he didn’t know what she’d been dreaming. Or she hoped she hadn’t said anything in her sleep that would give him a clue.
“I’m so sorry,” Faye said, reaching into her bag for the water bottle she’d purchased back at the terminal and taking a big sip. Her mouth was dry and she felt totally disoriented.
“Not at all,” Gregor said kindly.
Faye reached for her bag again and this time, slung it over her shoulder. “Will you excuse me?”
Gregor stood up to allow Faye to pass into the aisle, but even as he tried to make room, their legs brushed up against each other’s, causing Faye to recoil. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy being in close contact with the Englishman, it was that she was too afraid of revealing her not-so-mild attraction to him.
When she reached the bathroom, Faye pushed the door open and locked it behind her. Splashing cold water on her face, but being careful not to wet her mascara, she tried to snap herself out of whatever reverie she was indulging in. Grabbing some paper towels, she looked down at the sink and vividly recalled some of the key scenes from her very dirty dream about Gregor. And although the dream wasn’t real, the reaction of her body was. She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt so frustrated with herself and at the same time, so turned on.
So it was possible she could feel like this again! she thought to herself. After her wedding was canceled, it seemed like her nether regions had dried up like the Sahara. It startled her to think that Gregor could arouse such a primal, physical reaction in her. She was just getting used to leading a sexless existence, but here was proof that she could still get those butterfly feelings—and then some! Fixing her lip gloss and running a brush through her hair, the sensible side of Faye took over. Even if she had been turned on by a dream, that was much different from getting turned on in real life. She unlocked the door and made her way back toward her seat.
“Feeling better?” Gregor asked, flashing Faye a knowing look as she slid past him and took her seat.
“I’m fine, thank you,” she responded.