Chronicles of a Serial Dater - Book 7: A New Adult Romantic Comedy (9 page)

I might understate things just a touch if I said I was looking forward to our next date. This months-long seduction was driving me to the point of distraction. It was so bad, even listening to a voicemail from Clint would soak my panties.

I tried to practice patience. As Anette once said, sex is like pizza. Even when it’s bad, it’s still okay and I’d been binging on junk-food sex all summer. Easy to get, not that great, but it left me feeling full enough I wasn’t hungry anymore. But Clint wasn’t junk food. Clint was fine dining, a restaurant you had to book months in advance just to secure a seating at 10 p.m. Clint was…

Okay, enough with the food metaphors. You understand what I mean.

A few days after our trip to the B&B, I resolved that one way or another I would get that Englishman naked during our next date. Skydiving, whitewater rafting… I didn’t care. That man would be mine.

When he called me on a Tuesday, a day before our scheduled date with bad news, I nearly came on the spot out of pure frustration.

“I’m so sorry, but I can’t avoid it. I tried every which way and there’s nothing I can do,” he apologized.

“That’s fine, I understand.” I tried to sound accepting and mature, but it really came out more like a kid being left behind.

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise. Besides, it’s only a week.”

Right. Yeah. Only the longest week of my life.

Two nights later, I was relaxing at home alone. It was late but for whatever reason, I didn’t feel like sleeping. The caramel latte I’d grabbed from the closest Starbucks might’ve had something to do with it. It was a peaceful, boring night until my phone rang.

I grinned as I answered. “Hello there.”

“Hello to you too,” Clint replied.

My cheeks always hurt from smiling so much when he called. I shifted on the sofa and muted the TV. “What’s up?”

“Just thinking about you. What are you up to?” I couldn’t place the noises in the background, but he was definitely calling from somewhere busy.

“Nothing much.”

“Cool. So, uh… do you have a passport?”

I snorted at the randomness of his question. “Yeah…”

“And it’s up to date? No travel restrictions?”

“I can’t promise I’m not on a terrorist watch list, if that’s what you’re asking,” I joked. “Why?”

“Do you want to come to London with me?”

“Well, yeah, of course!” I laughed, thinking he was planning a trip far in the future.

“Great! There’s a car waiting for you downstairs. I’ll see you in an hour.”

I was so shocked, I jumped to my feet. “Wait. What? Now?”

“Unless you have other plans for this weekend.” I could hear the cocky smirk in his voice.

“Uh, no. No plans… wait. Seriously. You’re really…”

“I’m at JFK. You have plenty of time to catch the plane if you move now.”

I spun in a circle once before sprinting down the hall to my room. “At least I get to pack my own bag this time,” I chided.

“Make sure you bring that swimsuit though. I like that one.”

“Good swimming in London this time of year?”

“See you soon,” he chuckled before ending the call.

I did another spin in my room as I frantically tried to remember where my bags, clothes, and brain were kept. As I threw outfits around, I dialed Anette and put her on speaker.

“Hey my little Poptart. What’s up?”

“I’m going to London!”

“What?” she shouted. The bar was so loud I’m sure she couldn’t hear me.

I picked up the phone and yelled right into the receiver. “Clint is taking me to London. Now! I’m leaving now!”

“You’re a fat cow?” she screamed.

“No! Damn it woman, go outside. I have to…”

“I’m just fucking with you. I heard you the first time,” she laughed. “Have a great trip. I’m incredibly jealous.”

I sucked my teeth and giggled. “I’ll try. And don’t you get any ideas about screwing Amie on my bed while I’m gone.”

“
Pfft.
We did that last week.”

I dropped the pair of shoes in my hand. “Are you serious? What the fu-”

“Kidding! Go pack. I have customers backing up. Text me when you land. I don’t care how much it costs you,” she said before hanging up.

I chucked my phone into a pile of pillows. After clapping a hand over my mouth to cover my squeal of excitement, I stuffed clothes in my bag indiscriminately.

I declined the glass of bubbly the driver offered as he opened the door to the car. I didn’t think adding alcohol to my already pumped body would be a good mix. As I watched the city fly past the windows, I wanted to pinch myself.

What is this life? I’m jet-setting off to London with a hot Englishman. Three hours ago, I was wondering if I had to get dressed at all this weekend.

The late hour meant we got to JFK in record time. I spotted Clint waiting at the curb as the car pulled around the curve. He looked delectable. Dark jeans, an open suit jacket, tight t-shirt underneath. He opened the door for me as we rolled to a stop.

“That didn’t take long,” he grinned, kissing me on both cheeks.

I immediately flushed in his presence, but held it together. “A girl learns to keep a bag packed when you’re in her life.”

Clint seemed to like my off-the-cuff response. With a hand on my lower back, he led me through a maze of side doors away from the mess that was the normal security check. After a quick scan through my bag, we were guided straight onto the tarmac toward a small jet.

“We’re flying in that?” I gaped.

“Will that be a problem?” he asked, knowing full well it wouldn’t be.

“No! I just expected… I don’t know. Business class again. It’s so VIP!”

“Well, to be fair, this flight might get a little bumpier than our last,” he winked.

We sat opposite each other, separated by a tiny table. Thankfully, he opted to sit with his back to the cockpit. Even though I wasn’t normally bad on planes, there’s something unnatural about flying backward.

I expected the plane to taxi soon after we were inside, but we stayed put for several moments. As my heart rate slowed and I realized what I’d just done, my nerves became a rolling bubble just under the surface.

Clint certainly didn’t help. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a long black strip of fabric, setting it on the table.

“And that’s for…”

“Do you really get airsick?”

“No, but… you do remember telling me we’re flying to England, right? This isn’t a secret like going over the bridge to Brooklyn.”

“Yes, I realize,” he grinned.

The door shut and my anxiety spiked. To cover my discomfort, I laughed loudly. “What is it with you and blindfolds?”

“I like having you at my mercy,” he winked. He leaned across the table and raised the strip of fabric to my face. When I pulled back, he tilted his head and asked, “Don’t you trust me?”

I squinted at him and finally relaxed. “I suppose if I have to.” He tied it behind my head, careful to keep my hair from snagging in the knot. Only then did I feel a vibration in the floor, what I presumed was the footsteps from the air hostess as she walked by.

My other senses were immediately on fire. His musky, woodsy scent filled the entire cabin. I could feel the heat from his legs next to mine beneath the table. He was everywhere but not entirely where I wanted him. I resisted the urge to pull the blindfold away.

“Since we have a few hours in the air, I thought we could play a game.”

The plane rocked gently and glided along the tarmac.

My eyebrows arched as high as they could, the blindfold moving with them. I’d never pegged Mr. English as someone with kinks. “What kind of game?”

There was a rustling. The sound of plastic popping open. He brushed the side of my cheek, tracing a line down to my chin. My lips fell apart naturally and I expected to feel his mouth against mine any moment but…

A sharp pain pricked my lip. I yanked my head back, hand flying to my mouth. “What the hell was that?” I asked as I reached to pull the blindfold off.

Clint steadied my hand and calmly said, “Exactly. What was it? Tell me.” I hesitated again but he persisted. “I’m not actually going to hurt you. Think about that sensation. Was it really pain?”

I was still unsteady and feeling vulnerable, but I listened to him. “Do it again,” I said. This time, I realized it wasn’t pain at all. It was cold. My tongue darted out to feel it and I replied with the answer. “It’s an ice cube.”

“Very good!”

The plane accelerated, then slowed before turning.

“Ready for another?”

I nodded.

Clint’s finger pressed under my chin, lifting it slightly. A soft, almost indistinguishable sensation tickled my cheek and disappeared.

“One more time,” I whispered.

The feeling returned, this time more deliberate than subtle. “It’s a feather.”

“That’s right.”

Three single chimes echoed in the calm of the cabin. I knew we were about to take off. My heart thumped hard in my chest.

“I have one more for you,” he said, his deep voice gravelly.

I bit my lower lip expectantly, waiting for the next sensation. I yelped in surprise as the plane suddenly sped up, the tiny jet going far faster than any plane I’d ever been on. I slammed my hands flat on the table in alarm.

“Are you ready?” I could barely hear him over the roar of the engines.

I nodded, afraid my voice might betray my anxiety.

His warm, flat palm was at my bare knee. As the nose of the plane lifted into the sky, his hand slid further up my thigh. I lost all sense of fear the further up he dared to go.

Clint’s fingers pushed the hem of my skirt up… up… until the tips grazed the smooth cotton panties I’d hastily thrown on. I gasped and squeezed my thighs tightly, trapping him between.

“So, what is it?”

“Your hand,” I panted, my mouth slightly parted.

“And what do you want it to be?”

My jaw worked but no words emerged. He chuckled and pulled away.

“You can take off the blindfold.”

With a shaky hand, I slipped the fabric from my eyes, blinking to clear my vision. The captain had dimmed the cabin lights for take-off and the sprawl of New York glittered far below, just outside my window.

I set the blindfold down and bashfully met his eye. “That was a fun distraction.”

“That’s exactly what I was hoping for,” he grinned. “Drink?”

“Sure.”

He raised his hand and the hostess appeared with a bottle of champagne and two flutes.

“Will you need anything else, sir?”

“No, just the music, thank you.”

She nodded demurely and disappeared into the cockpit, shutting the door behind. A moment later, a beautiful lilting song played from the speakers overhead.

Clint stood, unfastened my seatbelt, and offered his hand. “When I saw you at that party, I’d hoped we’d get a chance to dance.”

“Probably better we didn’t. I didn’t have the greatest balance that night for some reason,” I said, rolling my eyes.

He pulled me close against his frame as I stood, hand firm on the small of my back. His green eyes sparkled in the low light as he looked down at me. “And how about now?”

“To be honest? Still a bit unsteady,” I breathed. I lifted my arms around his neck as we swayed to the music.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”

We were in sync, our bodies shifting and moving together as naturally as if we’d been dancing for years. I teased the short hairs at the nape of his neck and smiled up at him. With a soft thumb, he traced my smile before dipping his mouth to meet mine.

The music didn’t change but the tempo shifted between us. I stepped to the side of his leg, wedging his knee between my thighs as we kissed. He pulled me closer with the hand at my back. I sank lower, grinding into him every few steps.

With our foreheads pressed together, we delved into the world of dirty dancing. I’m not sure how long we danced, but by the time he led me to the small leather seat on the side, we’d worked up a bit of a sweat.

He sat down and pulled me onto his lap, lips covering every square inch of my neck and collarbone. I straddled his hips and tugged at the bottom of his shirt, pulling it over his head.

I held his hand as he repeated the motion with my top. I glanced to the front of the plane. “Are we okay to do…”

“They understand we’ll call if we need anything,” he replied. “And to leave us alone if we don’t.”

With two hands on his chest, I leaned back and gave him a warning look. “If you stop this time, I swear to God...”

“There’s no chance of that happening,” he growled, tearing my top off.

Clint stripped me quickly, my nipples tightening in the cool air. I was left wearing nothing but my skirt, panties, and heels. Our bodies still moved in sync, grinding, exploring. I lost myself in the moment until a sharp pain shot up my leg. I tried to ignore it but the pain just got worse and worse with the awkward position. It just wouldn’t go away.