Page 45 of Pucker Factor

I stopped and looked at her funny. “No, by plane.”

She barked out a laugh, shaking her head at me. “You really think I’m getting on a plane? Do you remember what happened the last time you forced me on a plane?”

“Yeah, but…I thought that was just because you didn’t want to come along. We’re going home. Well, we have to make a pit stop in Florida, but—”

“No, I already told you. That’s not happening. I don’t do planes.”

“You’ve already been on a plane,” I argued as she started walking away from me.

“Yes, and as I told you before, I had medication. I had things to keep me calm. Do you know the percentage of planes that go down in flight?”

“Um…not nearly as many as the number of car crashes per year.”

“.06 per one million flights.”

“That’s…not that many,” I said hesitantly.

“Yes, and if I stay off planes, that reduces my chances of dying in a plane crash to zero. You can’t die by plane crash if you’re not on a plane.”

I couldn’t argue with her on that point. It made sense, but still, there were other ways to die.

“You could get hit by a bus and die.”

She nodded emphatically. “You’re right, but I wouldn’t see a bus coming. I would die instantly. On a plane, there would be turbulence, and those masks would fly down. I would have minutes of sheer terror, knowing I was about to die.”

“But you were strapped to a bomb,” I argued. “You knew you were going to die then.”

“Yes, but I wouldn’t feel it! It would have been instantaneous.”

“So would a plane crash!” I shouted.

“Not necessarily. What if the plane skidded through some trees and broke apart? What if I was still alive, stuck in that chair, and then wild animals came to tear me apart?”

“What if you got caught under the tires of the bus and dragged for miles before you actually succumbed to your injuries?”

“If I was dragged for miles, I would probably be unconscious, not feeling a thing,” she spat.

I just couldn’t believe what she was saying. She was more insane by the minute. “What if none of that happened and you survived?”

She seemed to think about it as if it might actually be a possibility. “Look, I appreciate your efforts to make me feel better about all this. It’s really sweet of you to try, but we both know with my record, it’s not very likely.”

And with that, she turned on her heel and walked away.

I stood there for a moment, trying to figure this woman out. She was scared, she wasn’t scared. None of it made any sense. I thought she would be happy to get out of here, and instead, she was telling me potential death rates. My head was spinning. There was only one thing to do. I was going to have to fuck her into submission.

It was a hard job, but someone had to take one for the team.

* * *

I stared up at the ceiling, panting hard from what this woman just put me through. All that shit about this being a one-night stand was looking less and less like the reality of the situation. Could it still be a one-night stand if you had sex more than once? I highly doubted it, and the guys would rag on me for days on end if I tried playing it off that way. And even more so if they heard me fucking her all night long.

Now, I laid here wondering how exactly I was supposed to get myself out of this situation. I was sleeping with her to get my way, but ended up getting myself in more trouble in the process. I should have thought this through first.

Yeah, you only slept with her to get your way. Keep telling yourself that.

I got up, irritated that my conscience knew me better than I knew myself. I wanted to be able to say this was all in the name of the job, but my dick knew better. Even he was smarter than me. He didn’t stand to attention for just anybody.

I stood and grabbed my pants off the floor. I had to do something. I couldn’t just lay in bed with her all day. Then I’d start fucking her more, and that would lead to kissing and hugging and things like snuggling. The last fucking thing I needed was to snuggle this woman.

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