Get Me Out of Here
(Darcy)
Inside, the jet is made up of two rows of plush cream leather chairs, some facing forwards, some backwards. Polished wood tables reminiscent of car dashboards are between the seats. I get the impression this is a functional, work plane rather than a party jet.
“Here, sit down,” he says gesturing to the seat nearest the entrance, one facing backwards. I sink into the comfort of the chair, a relief after spending the afternoon and evening on upright dining chairs.
I’m surprised when Liam takes the seat opposite me. We’re separated by the table and once again I’m gazing into his eyes.
A woman appears and secures the door to the outside. The plane begins to move. I glance out the window while we taxi down the runway. As soon as we are in the air, I look at Liam. He’s looking back at me.
“Are you going to answer my question now?” I ask.
“What question?”
“Who are you? I don’t even know your last name.”
“It’s Jones. I’m Liam Jones.” I study his face, trying to determine if he’s telling the truth or not. He isn’t.
“I don’t believe you.”
He bites his lips between his teeth. Quite frankly, his last name doesn’t matter. It’s not like we’re entering into a relationship.
“No?”
“No. Is Liam really your first name?”
“Of course.” I believe him.
“So you’re Liam with a jet.”
“I have a lot of money, does that matter to you?” He leans back in his seat and puts his hands behind his head. The position swings his suit jacket wide open and stretches his shirt over his chiseled chest.
“No,” I snap. I have a good job, and a company to inherit. I may not have my own jet, but I’m far from poor.
“I don’t normally let people I’ve just met know I have money. But with you, I don’t know, it seemed natural. Like you wouldn’t judge me for it,” he says with a roguish smile.
I don’t know if he’s being serious or not. But he’s right about one thing, something is definitely going on between us. I’d noticed it too. And it scares me.
“I’m not going to judge you for having a jet. Not in a bad way at least.”
“Good to know.”
“Are you going to judge me for not having a jet?”
His rich laugh fills the inside of the jet. I rake my eyes down his chest, detecting the lines of his muscles through his white dress shirt.
The woman reappears carrying a foil-topped bottle and two Champagne flutes.
“Thanks, Gayle,” Liam says as she sets them on the table.
“Would you like any nibbles?”
Liam looks to me and I nod. Anything to get the aftertaste of the wedding food out of my mouth.
“Yes, thanks,” he tells her. She leaves and reappears with small dishes of olives, nuts and tortillas.
I watch in silence as he goes through the ritual of peeling off the foiling, removing the wire cage and popping the cork of the Champagne bottle. He expertly fills the two glasses and passes me one.
“Cheers,” I say, clinking his glass. I don’t wait for him to pick up his glass before I down half of mine.
“Thirsty?” He asks, his eyebrow raised.
“Like I’ve been in the Sahara for the past four and a half years.” Without setting his glass down, he picks the bottle up and refills my glass.
“Four and a half years? That’s rather specific.”
“So, what time are we getting there anyway? Won’t it be the middle of the night?”
“I’ve arranged for us to stay at the Four Seasons. It’s near the convention center for tomorrow. We can walk. I trust that’s okay?”
“I’m not sure if I can walk in these heels. I’ll have to find a shoe store first.”
“We will.”
I take a sip of my Champagne, mulling Liam over. I hold the rim of the glass near my mouth and say, “So, all day I’ve been listening to you fob off people who ask you what you do with some generic answer. Are you going to tell me?”
“You want to know?”
“That’s why I asked, Mr. International Man of Mystery.”
“I have a holding company, and own lots of other companies under the umbrella holding company.”
“Any companies I’ve heard of?”
“The golf club the wedding was at.”
“Figures,” I say, laughing.
“Why does your father want you to have a boyfriend so much?”
“Because he thinks he needs a grandchild as an heir for his company.”
“I’ll believe that if you believe my last name is Jones.”
Some of my Champagne sloshes out of my glass from my laughter. “It’s a deal.”
We talk and laugh throughout the rest of the flight. About family, weddings, business, what I expect from the chocolatiers.
Liam and I have been in each other’s company for nine hours now, and yet it seems like minutes. I haven’t spent this much time with a man since the day from hell. It’s unnerving, and against my rules. Yet exhilarating at the same time.
He hasn’t made any attempt to physically touch me again. Not since the cab ride. When he held me close and I never wanted it to end. It was natural, arousing, good.
But I have to remember that I don’t do relationships. I don’t even go on second dates. Do I tell him that? Is it fair of me not to, or would it be presumptuous to tell him?
Our fingers come into contact when he refills my drink or when we clink glasses. Each time a shot of heat is sent straight through my entire body.
By the time we land, the Champagne has gone to my head and I have to hold the handrail as I climb down the steps to the tarmac.
A car is waiting for us and I hop in, not bothering with trying to keep the hem of my dress to any respectable length.
We pull up at the hotel and my heart is pounding with anticipation. For whatever reason, we don’t have to check in. A woman greets us almost as we set foot in the lobby and hands Liam a little folder containing a key card. Do we have one room, or two?
He pushes the elevator button, and we watch the numbers for the above floors flash over the elevator doors. Neither of us says anything as we wait. My heart pounds in my chest, not wanting the evening to end, not ready to leave him.
The elevator doors open, and he waits for me to enter before following me into the small space. I turn to face the doors, and Liam takes a step closer to me. His stare is intense, and our eyes lock.
My breathing is heavy, drawing more of his cologne into my lungs. My pussy walls flood as the image of Liam pushing me through the door and onto the bed flashes through my mind.
My mouth fills with saliva in anticipation of kneeling in front of him and taking his dick into my mouth. I can almost feel his hands laced through my hair as he forces himself deeper and deeper down my throat.
I jump when Liam really touches my hair, snapping me out of my daydream.
He presses his lips against the edge of my ear and says, “You’re stunning.”
My cheeks flush crimson, matching the fire I feel inside. I have to make the most of my time here with him tonight, knowing my resolve about second dates.
I have to be strong. Already, my feelings for him are getting too intense for me. I have to stop it before I get my heart broken all over again. To nip this in the bud before it has a chance to bloom.
But right now, all I want to do is melt into Liam’s arms. And that’s okay, because this is a first date. It’s how first dates should end. At least in my life, where I don’t do second dates.
“Thank you,” I stammer, not knowing what else to say.
The current between us is strong, and somehow, the nearness of Liam has turned me into a bundle of nerves, butterflies and heat, incapable of normal thought.
Because right now there’s only one thing I can think about, and it’s the place between my legs.
We arrive at our floor, and the elevator doors open. Liam exits first, and I follow him, trying to clear my head.
He taps the key card against the door, and it unlocks.
“After you,” he says, opening the door.
“Thanks,” I say managing a weak smile.
For some reason, when the door opens, the ball of nerves in my stomach triples in size.
I step into the room, expecting a bed. Instead, I’m greeted with a suite four times the size of my apartment. The furniture and decor are super trendy, with fresh flowers seemingly everywhere I look.
The events of the past day skip through my mind as I try to make sense of how I got here. His arm around me as we waited for the ceremony to start, his kiss on the dance floor, being whisked off in a private fucking jet, and now this. An incredible hotel suite. And most of all, the sexiest man I’ve ever laid eyes on is with me.
Crazy doesn’t begin to explain it. Unable to look back at Liam while I process my thoughts, I start exploring the suite.
In the massive living room, a bottle of Champagne is on ice, flanked by two flutes on the dark wood coffee table. Ignoring it, I move deeper into the suite, exploring but really ignoring my situation.
Though my mind is desperately trying to understand the events of the past few hours, my pussy is screaming at me to get back to Liam. To let him take me in his arms and do with me as he pleases.