Sky High (Three Contemporary Novella's) (11 page)

Some small part of his head recognized that this was probably a mistake. They were both a little drunk, stressed out and sniping at each other, and this would likely end badly. But his body was answering to a different head at the moment, and that head didn’t give a shit about consequences. He was making out with the girl he’d fantasized about for five years and consequences could wait until later.

Sydney was all over him, hands fisting in his hair, fingers tracing down over his face and jaw, gripping his shirt, and then smoothing flat down his chest. Everything she touched felt like it burst into flames. He could taste pent-up desperation in every kiss, every molten sweep of her tongue against his, every nip of her teeth on his lip.

“Fucking hot asshole,” she muttered as she caught a breath. So he was right. She was attracted to him. He was going to overlook the asshole part for a moment.

Since she was touching him every place she could reach, he decided that was an invitation to do the same, and he slid his hand up her side, cupping her perfect breast in his palm. His thumb scraped across her nipple, hidden underneath her bra and blouse, and she moaned, arching into him. Fuck, if that wasn’t the hottest sound he’d ever heard. It reminded him of her laugh, deep and throaty, that sound he’d imagined she’d make in bed. And he realized he was finally, improbably, hearing that sound. Because he was making out with Sydney Bishop. In an airplane bathroom. Reality threatened to rear its ugly head again, but then he felt her hands in between them, working at the buttons of her blouse. He pulled back just enough to look down, to see those breasts straining against her black lace bra just an inch from his chest, and he was a lost man. He pulled her blouse down her arms and dropped it to the floor.

God, she felt good, all warm, velvety skin and that
bra
. He palmed her ass, pressing her hips against his erection, and she moaned again, into his mouth. He wanted his mouth on her breasts, but there wasn’t even room to crouch in here, so he pivoted them just slightly until her ass hit the sink. Gripping her hips, he lifted her just enough to prop her on the edge. Immediately, she raised her knees and wrapped her heels around the backs of his calves, drawing him between her legs. Her tight black skirt slid halfway up her thighs and he replaced it with his hands, sliding it even higher.

Kissing back to her ear, he nipped at her earlobe, loving the breathy little moan she made and the way her head fell back against the mirror. There was just enough clearance to kiss his way down her neck, tasting her with his tongue, biting her with his teeth. Her thighs tightened on his hips and he bit down on her collarbone. She hissed through her teeth. That would leave a mark. Good.

If he stretched, he could just reach his head down to kiss her breast above the edge of her bra. He palmed her, raising the fullness higher, and sucked her skin into his mouth, determined to leave another mark on her. Sydney writhed against him, one hand in his hair. Catching the edge of her bra with his thumb, he tugged it down to bare her nipple and drew it into his mouth.

“Oh.” There was a thunk as her head hit the mirror again. He sucked on her slowly, rhythmically, and he began to thrust his hips in time with his mouth, rocking himself into the space between her thighs with each small movement. Her skirt was rucked up nearly to the tops of her thighs now—perfect, creamy thighs that he was tracing with his hands. And his cock was nestled right between her legs, almost pressing against her. She shifted, scooting her ass a millimeter forward on the edge of the sink, and he was there, the front of his pants pressed against her underwear.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

Her fingers, which had been busy unbuttoning his shirt, slipped lower, working on his belt buckle.

“Sydney, what are we doing?” he whispered, releasing her breast and kissing his way back up her chest.

“What’s the matter, Jesse? Can’t follow through on all that swagger?” She was taunting him, but he was perversely grateful she’d just said his name. He wanted her fully aware of who was touching her, who was about to fuck her senseless, because that was exactly what was going to happen.

“Oh, I can follow through. Just watch me.”

Then he slipped his hands under the hem of her skirt, hooked his fingers into the sides of her panties, a tiny scrap of silky black fabric and lace, and unceremoniously dragged them down her legs. He had to back away from her just long enough to get them off her feet, and he made eye contact with her the whole time. His gaze was challenging, a question. Are we really doing this? Her eyes were half closed with lust, her lips parted and a little swollen. Her hair was a tousled mess from his hands. One breast was still exposed, her nipple hard and glistening from his mouth. She had to be the hottest thing he’d ever seen. She stared back at him, silently acknowledging what was happening, then she reached for his belt buckle again.

“Please tell me you’re smart enough to carry a condom in your wallet.”

“Two, actually. You never know.”

“Bragging asshole,” she muttered. He opened his mouth to tell her it wasn’t bragging if it was a fact, but then her hand slid into his fly and grabbed his cock and he lost all power of speech. There was nothing tentative in her touch as she gripped him through his boxers. Then she released him and reached inside to touch him skin to skin. He thought he might literally lose his mind, it felt so good. She pulled him free, shoving his pants and boxers down just enough to gain access to him. He shuddered, dropping his forehead against her shoulder as she stroked him, long, hard, assured strokes that were about to bring him to his knees. Her thumb swept across his head, smearing the bead of liquid there, and he groaned.

“Fuck, Sydney.”

“That’s the idea.”

His fingers fumbled to his back pocket, nearly dropping his wallet twice as he dug through for a condom. But then he had it and he was ripping the packet open and rolling it onto his aching cock and fuck…this was going to happen. He slid his hands under her skirt to grip her bare ass in his palms, tugging her to the very edge of the sink. He could feel the warm heat of her on his head as he slid between her legs. Then he pushed forward, just nudging inside of her. At this angle, it was tight, so unbelievably tight. Then she hooked her heels around the backs of his knees and he slid forward, all the way in.

“Jesus,” he hissed. Sydney made some unintelligible sound of pleasure as her head fell back. They were wedged in so close that he could barely draw back, so it was a hard, tight fuck—short, rapid thrusts, barely pulling free of her body each time. He gripped her ass to hold her steady and he did what he’d dreamed about for five years—he fucked Sydney senseless. She held on tight, her nails digging sharply into his shoulders. The pain was good, it was grounding, because he’d have come in seconds without it. Instead, he focused on the sounds she was making, the low moans of pleasure as he pounded into her. She brought her head forward, kissing the side of his neck.

“God, Syd, tell me you’re close,” he muttered, feeling his release bearing down on him.

“Almost,” she said against his skin. “Oh, there. Right… Ohhh.” He could feel it, her body pulsing around him as she gasped and gripped him. She bit him, sinking her teeth into the muscle between his shoulder and neck. That was all it took to send him over the edge, too. He came with one muffled grunt, gripping her hips hard enough to leave bruises.

In the aftermath, the sound of their labored breathing was nearly deafening in the tiny room. He held on to her, held himself tightly inside of her for another moment, just breathing into her hair, as his body slowly came back together. His legs felt too weak to hold them up. Sydney’s legs had gone slack around his hips.

Just then, the overhead intercom dinged and a flight attendant’s smooth, cheerful voice filled the bathroom.
“We’re beginning our final descent into JFK. Please return to your seats, fasten your seat belts, and prepare for landing.”

It was a general announcement to the whole plane, but it seemed like she was speaking directly to them. Stop fucking, put your clothes back on, and get back to reality.

Reality.

The reality was, he’d just hate-fucked Sydney Bishop in an airplane bathroom and it was so good, it blew his mind. The reality was, he wanted to do it again right away, this time with space to spread out and take his time. The reality was, he’d like to fuck her without all the hate.

But the more pressing reality was that they had to extricate themselves from this situation and put themselves back together enough to get off the plane. Once they’d landed, they could sort out what happened next.

“You okay?” he whispered.

“Yeah. I need…” She made a helpless gesture with one hand. She needed her underwear. And her shirt. And for that, she needed him to get his cock out of her.

“Right.” He slid free, keeping his eyes off her as he shucked the condom. He retrieved her underwear and blouse from the floor and plastered himself against the door to give her room to put them both back on. As she buttoned her blouse, her eyes danced up to his and then away. He couldn’t read the expression on her face at all. She turned to the sink and washed her hands, pressing her damp fingers to her cheeks briefly.

He reached for her hips and leaned forward to speak against her hair. “Sydney…”

“We need to get out of here,” she said quickly, pulling away from him as much as she was able to in the tiny space. “I’ll go first. You wait two minutes and then you leave.”

He hesitated. She sounded like old Sydney, like she was about to walk out of this bathroom and forget this had happened, which was impossible. But he couldn’t exactly have it out with her now, in this flying coffin. “Okay.”

She didn’t speak or look at him again, she just slipped out of the bathroom, slamming the door closed behind her. Jesse cleaned up while he waited, straightening his clothes, rebuttoning his shirt, washing his hands, trying to put his hair to rights. He did his best not to think about what they’d just done, but it was impossible. He could still feel her body trembling around him as she came. He could still smell her. Whatever perfume she wore was clinging to his clothes and skin.

A tentative knock came at the door, and for a second, hope flared that Sydney had come back, but the voice on the other side wasn’t hers.

“Hey in there.” The flight attendant’s voice was cheery and impassive. “We need you to take your seat for landing.”

“Su—” He had to stop and clear his throat. “Sure thing.”

He waited another minute, just so he wouldn’t have to face the attendant, before slipping out of the bathroom. He was sure
“We just had sex”
was written all over his face. It’s not like they fooled anyone with that leaving separately shit. The sly smile the old lady sitting on the aisle gave him as he sat down again told him so. He sat, rebuckled his seat belt, and glanced at Sydney. She was reading her magazine, calm, cool, and perfectly put together. Looking at her now, you’d never guess fifteen minutes ago he’d had that tight black skirt shoved up to her waist as he pounded into her on the edge of the sink. He was getting hard again just remembering it.

He cleared his throat this time before he tried speaking. “Hey—”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she snapped, cutting him off.

“But, Sydney—”

“No.”

He sighed. Fine, it wasn’t like they could talk properly now anyway. He sat in silence as the plane landed and the grumpy, rerouted passengers began to gather their things and deplane.

“Good luck in Mexico,” the little old lady next to him said as she got ready to leave.

“It’ll be fine. I’m rebooked on another flight tomorrow morning.”

She cast a quick glance past him to Sydney. “I wasn’t talking about the flight,” she whispered. Jesse stared after her as she shuffled off down the aisle.

“I need to get my carry-on.”

Sydney had neatly restowed all of her things, and her bag was on her shoulder as she glared at him, arms crossed over her chest.

“Right.” Jesse snapped to attention, pulling first her bag down from overhead and then his. She slipped past him out of the row, taking care not to touch him. By the time he reached under his seat for his shoulder bag and stood back up, she was halfway down the aisle with several passengers between them. He cursed under his breath, not taking his eyes off her as the line inched forward and off the plane. She could try to run, but she wasn’t getting away from him that easily. She did her best, though. As soon as they made it off the plane and into the airport, she vanished into the crowd. Jesse sprinted through the terminal, straining for a glimpse of her dark hair, the black of her blouse. He finally spotted her just as she was exiting the airport and getting in line for the taxis. Shoving his way past an irate businessman, he made it into the line just behind her.

She glanced over her shoulder at him and sighed.

“Sydney, what the hell? After what just happened, you bolt like it’s no big deal?”

“It
is
no big deal,” she said, keeping her eyes to the front and her back to him. “Look, we had a little too much to drink and things got out of hand.”

“I wasn’t that drunk. I knew exactly what I was doing.”

She sighed. “Fine,
I
was drunk. I didn’t eat breakfast this morning, and all that rum on an empty stomach—”