Catch - Deborah Bladon Page 0,42
and stay away from beer.”
I study him as the elevator descends to the lobby. “What do you want, Fletcher?”
His brow furrows. “What do you mean?”
“Do you want those things too?”
He half-shrugs. “I guess. I get to drink two beers at the party, so I’m good.”
The doors slide open, and with his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, and his shoulders tensed, he sets off to cross the lobby.
I fall in step beside him wondering if he’s as happy inside as he looks on the outside when he smiles.
Chapter 30
Keats
All work and no play make me a cranky as fuck.
I haven’t gotten laid in a long time. It’s been a hell of a long time. I had more than one chance this past week, but I kept my dick in my pants because it only craves one person.
Maren Weber.
That’s right. I fucked my palm every single night while I imagined my assistant on her knees with my dick between her lips, or to change it up, I conjured up an image of her sitting on my face. To add to the mix, I envisioned fucking her from behind.
That’s the roll call of fantasies currently running on a loop in my brain. Occasionally, I’ll think about her spread-eagled on my desk while I slide my cock into her pussy nice and slow.
“Are you a pervert?”
Jesus. I hope to hell I’m in the middle of a drunken dream where I’m rocking a hard-on on an airplane while sitting next to a ninety-year-old woman with eyelashes that look like the legs of a tarantula.
“I asked you a question.” The same high-pitched, gravelly voice creeps into my ear.
I crack open an eye and look at the seat next to me.
No dream. This is a fucking nightmare.
She circles one of her long red fingernails in the air before she points it down. “Your willy is wide awake, sonny boy.”
I shut my eye again and shake my head. “Why are you looking down there?”
“It’s that view or the clouds, so…”
I huff out a laugh. “I need a blanket.”
“No.” She leans closer until her breath gusts over my cheek. “You need a woman.”
I open my eyes. “I’m Keats.”
“Is that a name? Keats?”
“It’s my name.”
She rolls her big brown eyes. “What happened to John or Larry? I remember when almost every boy in school was named Walter.”
“My brother is named Berk, and my sister is named Sinclair,” I offer.
“Were your parents high when they chose those names?”
It’s likely. When we were kids, our parents would send us to bed early and then go out on the balcony to smoke weed every Friday night. I didn’t know that’s what they did until a kid in high school offered me a blunt, and I recognized the smell.
“They’re creative,” I say. “What’s your name?”
“Mary.”
“Mary,” I repeat. “Like Maren.”
She rubs her nose. “No, like Mary. What’s a Maren?”
I glance down at my watch. It’s still over an hour until we land at LaGuardia. “She’s a woman.”
She sets back in her seat to study me. “Is she the woman?”
I perk a brow. “The woman?”
“The woman who is responsible for that bulge in your pants.” She glances down. “He went to sleep now.”
I shake my head. “Maren is my assistant.”
“You like her,” she snaps back.
She’s a stranger. What harm could come from telling her the truth? “I do like her.”
“Does she like you, Keats?” She draws my name out slowly over her tongue. “Keats. So odd that it’s a name.”
“I think she does.”
“With confidence like that, how could she not?” She shakes her head. “You’re a good-looking guy, looks like you’re packing a lot in your pants, and you smell good. You’re a winner, so own it.”
“I’m a winner?” I laugh.
“Look in a mirror.” She pokes a finger into my shoulder. “Back in the day, I would have chased you.”
“I consider that one of the greatest compliments I’ve ever received, Mary.”
“Promise me, you won’t let this girl slip away.” She pats my hand. “Tell Maren that Mary says you’re quite the catch.”
“What about you?” I question. “You must have a Walter or two lining up to take you out?”
Running a hand over her short gray hair, she laughs. “A lady never tells.”
The flight attendant approaches us. “Is there anything I can get for either of you?”
I shake my head. “I’m fine. Thank you.”
Mary pipes up. “My friend Keats looks sleepy. He’s going to need a blanket for his lap.”
Chapter 31
Maren
Keats: The plane just touched down. I’ll make it.
My ass drops onto the corner