Page 16 of Girl Going Nowhere

Mostly.

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Two and ahalf hours later, I know three key factors about Blake Karr that have made this flight well worth the stress it caused—she’s terrified of flying, has a feisty attitude, and has one hell of a dirty mouth.

Telling her I don’t like coffee might as well have been me admitting I worship Satan every Sunday. “I mean, seriously? Who the fuck doesn’t like coffee? How do yousurvive?”

Fuckseems to be her favorite word, and it might just have shot up there as one of mine as well. Especially coming from those full, pillowy lips. Doesn’t matter the context.

“You really need to stop saying that.”

Her brows pinch. “What?”

“Fuck.”

Her eyes go to where the word impacts me most, amusement flickering in her gaze. “Are you hardagain?”

I snicker at her brazenness. “Sweetheart, it never went away. It only gets worse whenever you say the word like an invitation. I’m going to need a one-on-one talk with it if you keep going.”

She gets the meaning instantly, eyes flashing with a heat that matches mine as she bites her bottom lip to fight off a smile. I already know this woman is going to kill me by the time we land, but what I don’t realize is how much when she glances around us. Some people are sleeping, some are watching movies on the screens attached to the back of the seats in front of them, and others are reading.

“Put your jacket over your lap,” she tells me, eyeing the leather jacket I grabbed before heading out with my haphazardly packed bag. When Vanessa told me I was going to Charlotte, I had less than an hour before a car arrived to take me to the airport.

I still think this is a pointless trip since I’m on Philadelphia’s forty-man roster. Meeting with new minor league teams feels like I’m jinxing myself before I get a chance to move up in the career I’ve worked hard for. After the callup in September, I have a chance at being put on the field. So my agent putting me at risk of pissing off the owners isn’t sitting well with me.

Blake is the only thing making this trip worth it.

I clear my throat, but it comes out strangled as I eye her carefully. “Blake…”

Her head cocks. “The way I see it, you have three options. You can let me help take care of your problem right here and now, you can try to ignore it and sit uncomfortably the rest of the way to Charlotte, or you can go to the bathroom and deal with it yourself. But I think we both saw how long it took that older guy to come out of there, and the way he was holding his stomach tells me it wouldn’t be a great place to get yourself off.” She gets a thoughtful look about her. “Then again, it could kill the monster in your pants. It’s your choice.”

A pretty girl wants to get me off, and I’m hesitating. Not because we’re out in the open. I’ve done much worse, way more publicly, when the moment struck. I wish I could say I’m a saint about respecting where I have sex, but I’m not. Sometimes desperation outweighs reason.

Which is how I find myself draping my favorite jacket over my bottom half and watching her lips curl into a Cheshire cat smile. It should probably make me nervous, but if anything, it makes me harder with anticipation. My cock is steel in my jeans as she repositions herself so it looks like we’re cuddling. My arm instantly goes over her shoulder, tugging her closer.

Her palm flattens against my chest, feeling my pounding heart. She lowers her hand leisurely, peeking up at me through her lashes and watching me back. I can’t see her mouth, but I’m sure it’s tugged upward, knowing she’s driving me fucking crazy.

“I should probably stop you,” I murmur, breath catching when her hand disappears underneath the jacket and cups me over my jeans. I bite back a groan. “I’d like to think I’m a gentleman.”

She snorts, stroking and fondling me. “Even gentlemen like their dicks touched.”

True. So damn true.

“It’s too bad,” she says casually.

My eyes close briefly as her fingers move with expertise over the length of my shaft. “What is?”

“I’ve been told I give way better head than I do hand jobs.”

Her statement makes me choke on air, which I have to recover quickly from before I give us away. It’s damn near impossible when she’s giving me the chance to imagine her head bobbing over my cock, taking me deep in her mouth.

“You’re not playing fair.”

When she looks back up at me, it’s with a cocky smirk. “Considering it’s you who’s getting off right now, I’d say this isn’t about playing fair, Raf.”

Shit.“I’ll happily return the—”

“Just sit back and relax,” she cuts me off, popping open the button of my denim, dragging down the zipper as quietly as possible, and sneaking her hand underneath the briefs covering my aching dick.

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