Page 20 of Shark Bait

“You’ve had an ultrasound?”

“No, but I know.”

“DNA test?”

“Nah, I just know it’s a boy.”

“How?”

“Three times, I peered out the window, and all three times, I saw a penis appear in the sky.” She fixes her hair into a messy bun on top of her head and turns toward me, the gun and the wad of cash sliding down her leg. I catch the gun while she tries to grab the cash. It slips past her knee and falls to the floor. She stares after it longingly as if she’s lost it forever.

I suppress an eye roll and retrieve it.

“Thanks, Shark.” She pulls out a bill and waves it. “I bet you a hundred it’s a boy.”

I narrow my eyes and hook my thumb behind my shoulder, indicating her pile of cash on the back seat of the plane. “Only one hundred? Why are all you millionaires so cheap?”

Her eyes sparkle at my mention of her recently acquired wealth, and she presses her hands against her cheeks. “Oh my God, I’m a millionaire.”

“Multimillionaire.”

“I can’t believe it. But also, I gotta pee.” She scoots to the edge of the seat and presses her hand to the small of her back before rising with a wince. “My back hurts.”

“I’ll give you something for the pain when we get to where we’re going.”

She looks out the small window. “Where are we?”

And here we go. The start of the decline of my first serious relationship with a woman. She lasted more than an hour, so I guess I’ve grown. “We landed on an island in the Mediterranean.”

With a nod, she walks down the short aisle to reach the bathroom. A few minutes later, she’s back out and looking overher stash of millions. She can’t reach the money without sitting down and sliding over the back seats. As she turns to sit, her feet trip over each other, and I leap out of my chair to try to catch her at the same time that she holds herself upright on the seat in front of her.

“Jesus, can’t even walk anymore,” she says.

She’s either clumsy by nature, or the pregnancy is making her uncoordinated since her large belly is growing on her small frame. I sit back down. “Perhaps move slowly next time.”

“Excuse me?” she barks.

Wow, she woke up grumpy as fuck. “Hm?” I turn my head toward the cockpit doors. “I didn’t say anything.”

“I heard you say I should move slowly so I don’t trip.”

I tap my chest, then wag my finger. “Wasn’t me. No.”

“Fine.” She turns toward her money and lifts her dress over her thighs so that it barely covers her ass as she puts her knee on the seat. Instead of sliding into the back, she bends over, reaching for the money in the corner, leaving me with an uninterrupted view of the curves of her heart-shaped ass.

I look away. Do NOT look back. Don’t look. No.

(Spoiler alert! I looked.)

I remain a gentleman for a record time of ten seconds before leaning over the edge of the seat and gazing up her dress.

Now I can’t look away from the small labia peeking between the folds. Her pussy is cute, and I want to lick it. I want to lick her so badly, my mouth starts watering.

Swallowing my saliva, I adjust my erection, get up, and walk toward her, telling myself I’m going to help her gather the money and carry it off the plane. Her head is buried between the seats as she picks up the stacks of bills that fell from the sheet during the flight. While she collects her money, her bottom half is uncovered. I rear back.

I have the best view in the world. It’s like seeing a cute blue pond from the top of a cliff. You’re not sure if you can make the dive, but you want to try anyway. The adventure calls, and the daredevil in me wants to dive.

It takes every ounce of control I possess not to slide my tongue inside her channel. I’m sure she tastes sweet, and I’ve always had a sweet tooth.

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