Asher

Asher

Settled in my window seat, I do my best not to grin too wide. Well, well…look at me. I'm close to heaven in more ways than one.

A smile curves my lips as my eyes follow the flight attendant. She really is a sight. Her sexy, little uniform clings to her pert tits, highlighting the tiny waist and generous curve of her hips. Her black cherry hair is pulled back neatly, emphasizing striking features—high cheekbones, tan skin, and dark eyes that glitter.

She's good enough to unwrap, and slowly let melt on the tongue like a lemon bonbon. I tug on my belt to make myself more comfortable and I know my eyes are hooded when I watch her. I'm a workaholic, I love staying busy but around her I just want to breathe.

She moves with a delicacy that intrigues me, her interactions with the passengers efficient and practiced. I'm in awe of the way she smiles, the way her eyes crinkle slightly at the corners when she speaks.

There's an old-world elegance to her, a poise that makes it hard to pay attention to anything else. And each time she passes me I get a whiff of what smells like a beautiful garden. It makes me lightheaded and I pinch my brow ridge. I want to find a way to get her to sit with me. The seat next to me is empty and I'd like to have her seated there, preferably with her knees spread and her panties twisted around her ankles.

Or would that be too much to ask?

I don't want to be offensive or rude. Perhaps I'll just have to settle for the open knees. Panties can remain on, and I'll just work around them. That's a pretty good compromise in my eyes. Polite too.

When she passes me by for the third time, I seize the opportunity. "Excuse me," I rasp and her eyes widen, her cheeks tinting until they turn the color of her mouth. "Can I have a glass of water?"

"Certainly," she smiles and the smile is too broad, too bright and it lets me know that she's not entirely neutral towards me. "Anything else?"

Just you, popping down on my lap.

"This is fine".I reach for the cup but then turbulence hits and she spill some of the water on my pants. The stain turns my slacks dark and she lets out a stream of apologies, fretting and she reaches for tissue. For a moment there, I think she's about to blot me but then she catches herself, realizing she'd be going near my crotch.

I feel a flash of disappointment. Pity. I wouldn't mind having her hands near my crotch. Gritting my teeth, I look away.

"I'm so sorry about that," she murmurs, remorsefully. "Let me know if there's anything else I can do for you."

"Will do, Solange," I say and she raises her brows. For a moment there's wariness flickering in her eyes, as if she instinctually picked up on something.

"How do you know my name?" she blurts.

"Says so on your tag," I smile softly. The name suits her. She really is a sunshine angel. Solange looks down, letting out a laugh and brushes her forehead.

"Right…," she murmurs, shrugging and she's about to leave but stops herself and bites her lip. Her eyes meet mine and there's nothing flirty in them, only pure admiration. "You know I saw what you did earlier, back at the terminal. How you stopped that punk from stealing that old lady's purse."

The tone of her voice lets me know she found it in impressive and I store that information for later. If she likes em brave, then I guess I'll just have to show more of that side of me.

"Do you want to know a secret?" I smirk and she looks surprised but nods. "Come closer, I'm going to whisper it."

Frowning, she lowers her face and I stare at her sculpted lips.

"Between you and me…," I rasp conspiratorially, "I was just stretching my legs."

Her eyes widen, before she tosses her head back and laughs. I bask in the sound and it makes my neck prickle.

"You're just being modest," she snickers, brushing me off. "We all saw what a hero you were."

"I like to do what I can," I shrug. "Besides, I was raised to give everyone in need a helping hand."

Solange gulps, admiration flicking in her eyes again. "Aren't you sweet…"

"Sweet?" I muse. "Yes, I'd like to think so."

Her eyes and lips soften, the tension in the shoulders dissipating but then she looks disappointed. "I have to go back to work."

"Of course, I don't mean to keep you." I lean back in my seat, just as equally disappointed if not more."What are you doing later?"

"When we land you mean?…I'm having drinks with a colleague."

"Cancel," I suggest promptly. "Have drinks with me instead."

Her jaw slacks.

"Worst case scenario, your friend can tag along if she wants," I add. "I don't care. I just want to spend the evening with you."

Lowering her lids, she says, "I have to be on another plane after midnight and if you're looking for anything serious…"

Irritation flares in me. Sudden and out of nowhere. Her uniform piqued my interest at first but now I just want to tear it off and tell her to not set her foot on a single airplane without me. And I don't fly that much which technically means she'd have to stay on the ground. With me.

Clearing my throat, I rasp, "It's just a drink. Not a marriage proposal. Just say yes." My teeth dig into my lip, and suddenly I worry I pushed too hard. I do that sometimes. Take things too far and deal with the consequences later.

She hesitates for a moment, before a flattered smile starts playing around her mouth. "Okay then…yes."

My chest booms, pleasure flooding my veins and I feel as if I've just conquered her. "I'll keep you to it. No backing out."

"Oooh…is that a threat?" she teases and the air hums between us, tight as a string.

"As a matter of fact it is," I rasp in a low voice but she just smiles nonchalantly, turns around and sashays down the aisle. I tug at my collar, realizing my hand is gripping the armrest. I like her. I really like her. With a face and body like that, she'd look good in my penthouse, in the jacuzzi, in my bed, or naked and panting up against one of my big windows…

Or bound and gagged in my closet.

Letting out a curse, I pinch my brow ridge. Where did that come from? Such a vile, forbidden thought. Who the fuck thinks like that? Shame on me. I've never been to therapy but maybe I should make an appointment. Maybe my ass needs some sorting out.

It's a good thing she can't hear my thoughts. She'd probably be as horrified as I was just now. And it's a good thing that I in reality am a proper, upstanding man. I'd hate to see a girl like that in the wrong hands. The world's a dangerous place and I wouldn't mind being the one to make sure she doesn't fall into any of the dark pits. A woman like Solange needs someone tender and humane.

And I know just the humanitarian. I turn my face to the window and meet my own determined gaze.