Ride Me Dirty(3)

By: Vanessa Vale

I was a total perv thinking about my seat mate like this, but holy shit. He was pumping out the pheromones or something because suddenly all I could think about was climbing on his lap and taking him for a ride. My brain had stalled and my ovaries had taken over.

There weren't any cowboys in New York. And I had to admit, there was nothing like a man whose size and corded muscles were brought about by hard work, fresh air and sunshine instead of daily trips to the gym. No man could wear a snap button shirt, a pair of jeans and worn boots like a cowboy. And this man? He was all cowboy. Holy hell, I'd always thought the urban businessman was hot, but they were pale weaklings in comparison. They might be able to make a billion dollar deal over lunch, but I'd turn a blind eye if they tried to get me in bed. But Mr. Hottie? He could ride and wrangle me into submission any day.

Since I wasn't going to tell him that, I glanced at my watch again. Three minutes had passed since the captain's announcement. I should use this dead time to my advantage. Bending forward, I tried to reach my bag, but the seats were too close together. I had to lean sideways to do so only to find the side of my head bumped into Mr. Hottie's rock hard thigh. Rock hard and warm thigh.

Abruptly, I sat up and flicked a gaze his way. “Sorry!” I blushed furiously and bit my lip.

Oh shit, he had a dimple. He smiled, showing off that perfect indentation in his right cheek and I just stared at it, my mouth open. He had a five o'clock shadow, and I wondered if his dark whiskers would be soft or scratchy. Would he run them across his lover’s skin? Use that slight abrasion to tease the inside of my thighs before tasting me with his—

“No problem. Anytime,” he murmured, his voice deep.

Was he insinuating I could put my head in his lap anytime? Did that mean he wanted me to…

My eyes dropped to his lap and I quickly observed those well-worn jeans molded him in all the right places.

Mortified I was ogling his very large package, I looked away, not before he winked and grinned.

Trying to keep on my side of the arm rest, I used my foot to hook my bag and pull it forward—bending in ways that I was thankful for hours of yoga to achieve—to finally get my hand on my laptop and cell phone and setting them on the tray table. Taking my phone off airplane mode, it rang right away.

Wanting to silence the ring, I answered it.

“Don't think you can sneak off and sell your uncle's property without me knowing.”

Just hearing Chad's voice grated on my already frazzled nerves. Since I'd blocked his cell number, he was probably calling from his office. Why couldn't he leave me alone?

“I don’t need to sneak. I’m selling my uncle’s house. Now you know.” I kept my voice low so I didn't bother anyone else.

“And keeping the profits for yourself? Not going to happen, sweetheart.”

“I'm not your sweetheart, Chad. I doubt I ever was,” I grumbled. When I'd discovered him in bed with his paralegal, I had to assume she was his sweetheart instead.

“You are my wife and that entitles me to half of that inheritance.”

I glanced out the window at the rain dripping down the window. My emotions were the same as the sky, dark and threatening to unleash. “You've been in bankruptcy law too long. We're not married anymore. Which means you’re not entitled to anything.”

“Says the woman who, four years in, still hasn’t made partner.”

Wow, that was a low blow. Chad had been made a junior partner in his firm after eighteen months, and never let me forget it. I glanced at Mr. Hottie and discovered he was looking at me, watching me with an intensity that made me squirm in my seat. Was that concern on his face? God, I didn't need him to hear me fighting with my asshole ex-husband.

“Chad, I'm sitting on a plane and can’t talk. We have nothing else to say to each other. Stop calling me.”

I hung up and just stared at my cell. We'd been divorced for almost two years and he was still trying to fuck with me. It had been a stupid marriage and the fallout from that hasty mistake still lingered.

Yoga breathing wasn't going to calm me down from this one so I had to shift my thoughts. Work. Work would make me focus on something besides my lying, cheating, backstabbing asshole of an ex.

I pulled up the brief I was writing and got to work while Mr. Hottie read his book. After a few minutes, an instant messaging box appeared in the lower corner of the screen.

Elaine: Saw your name pop up. You're there already?

Me: Stuck on grounded connecting flight in Denver. Thunderstorm.

Elaine: That sucks.

There was a minute delay, then she wrote again.

Elaine: Remember your primary mission! Find a hot cowboy and engage in monkey sex!

My eyes widened at the message in the corner of my laptop's screen.