Page 6

Dustin

C ontrary to what some people believe, the baby of the family doesn’t always get what they want. The proof of this is currently occupying an airplane seat four rows up and to the right. Worse than that, in less than two hours Tina and I will be sharing a house for months . Months .

Shortly after we claimed our seats, an apologetic pilot informed us something was being checked and takeoff would be delayed. I should be more concerned about what’s wrong with the plane, but I’ve never been more grateful for the reprieve. My hands may be tied in this alliance, but there’s no way in hell I’m spending the whole flight shoulder to shoulder with Tina, trying to carry on polite conversations like we don’t have history.

So, while waiting to board, I switched seats with the first willing person.

Not one to waste time, I begin reading through the job applications for the new office. A text from Christian pops up on my screen. Talk about helicopter bosses. The dude’s lucky I love his wife, Frankie, as much as I do, or I’d kick his fifty-nine-year-old ass for putting me in this situation. The thought makes me smile.

CHRISTIAN: How’s it going?

ME: My dick hasn’t been sucked yet, so there’s that.

CHRISTIAN: Chip…

ME: Relax. Everything’s fine.

CHRISTIAN: Be nice to Tina. She’s had a rough time lately.

Boo. Hoo. I roll my eyes.

ME: Spare me the sob story. You don’t have to worry about me shoving her face in my crotch.

My dick twitches, liking the idea of those full lips of hers wrapped around it, proving you don’t have to like someone to want to fuck them.

Waiting for Christian’s response, I give in to the need and peek at Tina. Barely any flesh is showing on her leg, but it’s enough for my pea brain to elicit a fantasy of me licking and biting my way up her calf, kneading her muscles as I work my way up that damn thigh. She’d be dripping for my tongue when I finally reached the apex between her legs. I’d give her what she needs after she begged for it.

But like I said, I don’t always get what I want.

CHRISTIAN: I’m emailing the location for the new gym. CCing Miss James also, so don’t reply-all with any sexual innuendos. I’d like to make it through the year without being sued.

So dramatic.

I’m not nearly as paranoid as Christian. My guess is that Tina wouldn’t risk losing out on the income by complaining. Plus, when you own part of the company you work for—like I do—who would have the balls to report you? History has proven Tina barely has a backbone, let alone balls. Tits and a fine ass I wouldn’t mind sinking my teeth into, yes, but balls… no.

ME: I’ll keep all my comments off the record. No paper trail, just cum.

CHRISTIAN: Jesus. I’m deleting this thread. Call me when you get settled.

My laughter is interrupted by a flight attendant. “Sir, we’ll be taking off soon. You’ll need to shut down all electronics.”

Her request is the usual mumbo jumbo. The breathy one-on-one delivery is not. It’s a proposition she backs up by tossing a note on my keyboard, followed by a gentle glide of her palm along my shoulder.

My gaze trails from the paper to her face and, because I’m a red-blooded guy, I don’t miss the generous handfuls along the way. Promising, until her cloying perfume hits my nostrils and I notice the teased stiffness of her hair. Nothing like the fresh-from-the-shower scent that clings to Tina, or the soft waves the color of sunrays that I want to run my fingers through.

I rise from my seat, gesturing for her to lead the way.