Page 23 of Wrecked With You

“Isn’t it?”

“No,” she said, then slid off the bench seat and knelt in front of him, her hands on his knees.

He tried not to react, but he was certain she could see the bulge in his jeans. “Then what do you want?”

“That’s not the question,” she said, her voice low and sultry as she slid her hands up to mid-thigh. ”You’re supposed to ask if there are any more reasons for me to be your paid escort and not your girlfriend.”

“All right. Are there?”

She urged his legs apart, then scooted in between his knees. Next, she rose up so that she could lean forward and whisper in his ear. As she did, the fingertips of her right hand lightly brushed his cock. It took a Herculean effort, but he managed not to groan.

“There’s one more reason,” she whispered. “It’s because if you’re paying me, then you can demand anything you want. And we have to keep up the fiction. So use me however you want. Soft, hard, wicked, dirty. It’s up to you. You have all the control.”

He swallowed. “Is that so?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“And that’s the way you want to play this?”

“It is.”

The answer surprised him. From what he’d seen, he wouldn’t have guessed that Emma was submissive. Then again, what was that saying? You never really knew someone until you saw them naked. “Why?”

She sat back on her knees, her expression shifting from sultry temptation to all business. “Beyond the simple fact that it fits our roles?”

“Beyond that, yes.”

Her mouth curved into an enigmatic grin. “I have my reasons. But don’t worry, I promise I can handle it. I spent a significant chunk of my life playing hooker. Even earned a living that way for awhile.”

He studied her face, and didn’t think she was lying. More than that, he didn’t think she meant as an undercover assignment.

“Unless you have objections?” She leaned back, and he wondered what she saw in his expression. “I can be your innocent girlfriend if you’d rather. And you brought me to the island to see if I had a wild side.”

He shook his head. “No. No, it’s a good plan. The right plan. No objections.” The cover did make the most sense. But at the same time, he had a feeling this conversation was about more than sex. That it would impact their entire partnership on this mission. And yet he couldn’t deny that the idea of having this strong, beautiful woman at his command was heady. And, like she’d said, it made sense for the mission.

“No,” he repeated. “No objections at all.”

Chapter Seven

“We’re so glad you’ll all be joining us for a little Debauchery at Debauchery!” The pretty flight attendant for the chartered flight, who looked about as clean cut as a high school yearbook editor and not at all what Tony expected, stood at the front of the cabin now that they’d reached cruising altitude.

“We’ll be landing on the island at about six local time, and you should have your room key by seven. That gives you plenty of time to rest, grab a bite, and then join the evening fun by the pool—or just enjoy yourself in your room. That’s the beauty of Debauchery—you make your own pleasure plan. Just remember that your concierge is always there to help with anything you need.”

Beside him, Emma mouthed, Pleasure plan, then winked. He grinned back. It was a real mission, a serious mission. But at least part of it was going to be fun.

The attendant moved to a console, then dimmed the lights. It wasn’t even noon yet, but they were heading to a sex resort with hours of flying time ahead of them. The movie selection on their in-seat consoles was all porn, ranging from soft and sexy to hard-core. And a screen at the front of the plane was showing silent video from the resort itself. Couples and groups naked in hot-tubs. Scantily clad women lounging on recliners. Couples entering private poolside cabanas—and other couples staying outside on the double bed-size loungers. There were scenes in the nightclub. Dancing. Touching. All intimate. All provocative.

Tony knew from the club’s promotional material that there were hard-core areas of the resort, too, used mostly by the regulars or very ambitious newcomers. Orgy rooms and BDSM dungeons. None of that was in the video, though. It was all slow and sensual and full of island heat, presumably to relieve the nerves of any newcomers on the plane and get them in the mood to join the party the moment the plane touched down.

He had to admit, it was working. He was already a little drunk, a lot hard, and not regretting this mission in the least.

He shifted in his seat as he glanced at Emma. The seats they occupied were like any airline seats, but the armrest between them defaulted to up, so that it was as if they were on a tiny sofa. They’d reached cruising altitude about fifteen minutes ago, and the tray in front of Emma was down, holding both their drinks. Not that he needed another. They’d finished off the entire pitcher of mimosas in the limo, and he’d already had a nice little buzz when they walked down the jetway.

Still, he hadn’t turned down the champagne that the attendant had offered him. What would be the point? It wasn’t as if he was driving. On the contrary, he was sitting in a small plane with fifteen other couples, several of whom had unbuckled and, from the intimate sounds drifting up from the back of the cabin, were already initiating themselves into the mile-high club.

Yeah, that refill on his drink was a good thing.

His attention drifted to Emma’s bare legs. The skirt was even shorter when she was sitting, something he’d noted in the limo, but had done nothing about. Now, with the sounds of sex rising around them as inhibitions lowered along with the lights, he wanted to touch her. No, not wanted. Right then, it felt like he had to touch her.