Page 3 of Decoded
Keaton
“I
t should be a pretty straightforward trip. I’ve gone over everything with them and they just have to sign the contracts. Odd that they refuse to digitally sign with a cybersecurity company, but I guess their company is a bit old school in that regard.”
“Whatever it takes to get them to sign and move forward,” I say to my younger brother, Camden. He’s both a partner in the business we own together with our other sibling, Lincoln, as well as a damn good attorney.
The crackling of an intercom system garners my attention. “Ladies and gentlemen, we are now boarding all remaining passengers for flight 756 to Las Vegas, Nevada at this time.”
“I’ve gotta go, Cam. I’m about to board the plane.”
“Stay calm, the last place you want to be having a complete freak out is on an airplane. Just remember that more people die each year from car accidents than they do plane crashes,” he assures me.
“Gee thanks, I feel so much better now that you’ve said the words plane and crash together. It definitely made me forget thefact I’m about to ascend into the air while trapped in a giant, steel tube of doom.”
I disconnect the call and make my way into the long line for boarding, not eager in the least to take this flight. I try to swallow down the nausea that always comes with flying, but it’s no use.
Fortunately, the career I started with my brothers has given us an incredible opportunity to travel all over the country. Unfortunately, this is really the only way to get where we need in an efficient amount of time. You would think frequently flying would help ease my fears, but it has yet to happen.
In desperate need of a distraction, my eyes track over the smaller domestic airport trying to find anything to focus on and get my mind off the fact that I will be thousands of feet in the air and no matter how many birthday wishes I made in my youth, my Superman ability of flight has never quite kicked in.
They manage to come across a voluptuous blonde leaning over her carry-on, seemingly checking to have everything intact. As she makes herself aware of all the contents in her luggage, she fails to notice that leaning over in her low-cut, pale purple top has the mouthwatering soft globes of her full chest spilling out. This woman was blessed with a chest and a half, and my hands twitch at the desire to find out how much of them I could cup in my palms. I’m a boob man. And I’m not ashamed.
My tongue darts out to wet my lips as my eyes reluctantly leave her swelling chest to track the rest of her luscious curves. I can feel my pants tightening as my gaze lingers over her soft stomach, even if her flowy top covers it and those wide hips I’d love to grip while thrusting inside her. Thick thighs lack a gap between them, and I become embarrassingly hard in the middle of the airport as I think of what a fucking victory it will be when I pull them apart to sink myself into the mound that lies between them.
Shit, I run a hand down my face as I realize I’m being a fucking creep. This beautiful woman does not deserve to be objectified, no matter how badly I need to get laid. I start to count the months in my head and realize it’s been a while since I took a woman home with me. With my time being limited between my business and family, I really only have time for the occasional hookup, which isn’t easy to come by when you live in a small town where everybody knows your business. Driving the two hours to the city to find someone isn’t nearly as easy as it was in my twenties and thirties. Hitting forty this year has taught me that many things aren’t as easy as they used to be.
Deciding I’ll immediately hit up a bar when I touchdown in Vegas and find myself some much needed relief for the night, I rid myself of the incredibly inappropriate thoughts of this complete stranger. I will the pretty impressive semi I’m currently sporting to go down, and move forward in the line as we begin to board the plane.
With the dirty thoughts of a stranger no longer filling my head, the fear has settled back in. My stomach is churning, my palms are sweating, and I’m pretty sure my face is whiter than the unexpected seven inches of snow that blanketed my hometown this past January. I nod at the attendant as she scans the QR code on my phone, then slowly make my way through the creaky tunnel leading me to the plane.
After storing my carry-on in the bins above, I settle down into seat 10C, noting the two empty seats to my left. Being as how I have absolutely no desire to look out the window and see just how far my feet are above the earth when I know damn well how gravity works, I always opt for the aisle seat. I will gladly take the chance of my elbows being hit with the drink cart if it gives me a little peace of mind about plummeting to my death.
I place my earbuds in and start my audiobook up, shielding my screen and turning the volume down slightly. I’m not ashamedof the romance novels I read. They’re entertaining and good for research purposes when it comes to those wild nights I do manage to have a few times a year. Still, it’s best not to make anyone around me uncomfortable by overhearing the dirty words they like to say. The dirty words I like to record in my notes to use for later. I take a deep breath in and remind myself I can handle the four hour flight ahead of me. Releasing it, I close my eyes and settle in.
“Are you comfortable, sir?” I abruptly pause my book right where the girl calls her ex-boyfriend’s father Daddy as he smacks her ass with a flogger. My eyes open and take in the flight attendant with the light brown hair pulled up tight in one of those fancy bun things women at country clubs wear. She seductively bites her lip that’s painted in a shockingly bright shade of red. The plane hasn’t finished boarding yet, so there’s only one reason she’s talking to me now instead of helping the other passengers find their seats.
Not to sound like a cocky piece of shit, but having a healthy past of hookups has made me privy to when a woman is coming onto me, and there’s no doubt that’s why she’s here. While becoming a member of the Mile High Club may be on many a man’s bucket list, it holds no appeal to me. I’d much rather stay safely buckled in my seat while aboard Fear Force One.
Not to mention, while there’s no doubt the woman next to me is attractive, she doesn’t so much as make my cock twitch compared to the curvy goddess I couldn’t take my eyes off of earlier.
“I’m good, thanks.” I answer politely and go to return my earbuds, but she reaches out and grazes my hand before I can go back to ignoring her.
“Well, if you need anything, anything at all,” she says breathily, “I’m Sheila. You just let me know and I’ll be sure to take care of whatever it is you need.”
Attempting to end this one-sided attraction and conversation, I nod and settle back into my seat, but apparently Sheila isn’t used to men turning down her advances. “I’ll be around with the drink cart and a snack shortly after takeoff, but don’t hesitate to push that button if you need me to come back for any reason, no matter how big.” She not-so-subtly glances down at my crotch before meeting my eyes again.
“Or small?” I ask, trying to complete the phrase.
“What’s that, handsome?” she asks, fluttering her eyelashes at me.
“You were saying no matter how big, but the phrase is, no matter how big or small. Just completing it for you.” I’m not trying to be a smartass, but I’m also notnottrying to be one either.
“Right,” she says with a giggle that makes me fight a grimace trying to cross my face, “you just let me know if you need anything from me at all.” Her flirting is thankfully interrupted from a heavily annoyed man barking her name.
Thanking the Lord above for giving me enough height to see around Sheila and over the seats, I notice another flight attendant a few rows up ahead. He looks annoyed as hell with his hands on his hips and a disapproving scowl on his face. Seated directly in front of him is the beautiful woman I was drooling over earlier. What did my curvy vixen do to piss him off?
Chapter three
