Page 184 of Daddy, Take Me Away
The way he said his name sounded like sin wrapped around my favorite food.
“Oh. Thank you Airteer.”
A low chuckle escaped him. “We’ll work on it, lass.”
He closed the overhead compartment with an efficiency that spoke of his actions being well-rehearsed, gave me a wink, then disappeared around the curtain. The flight attendant gave me a dirty look and swished the curtain closed.
During the flight, I found myself steeped in feelings of annoyance at what money could get you. He was only a few feet away, but we were worlds apart. In economy, I ate my in-flight dinner, squished between a guy who wouldn’t shut up, and a woman who barely squeezed into her seat.
In his section, I heard the clinking of real silverware and the ding of glasses being filled. He was probably chowing down on a steak right now while I ate dry tortellini in tomato sauce with a wooden fork. To make matters worse, every once in a while, Artor or whatever his name was, chuckled at something or spoke. His deep growly Scottishness caused all kinds of sensations to ping in my lower region.
As soon as we landed, I tore off my seatbelt, practically hurdled over the woman next to me like I was on a mission, and stood in the aisle. I needed to get off this flight and away from all these people. Coupled with my earlier stress, I was way overstimulated. All I wanted was the nearest pub and a pint of whatever local brew they had before figuring out how to get to my hotel.
I had to jump to reach the handle of the overhead bin and managed to release the catch, but before I could make a second jump to retrieve my bag, a carry-on in astronaut silver toppled out and hit my shoulder before it dropped to the floor, taking me with it.
I let out a loud “Ow!” and the curtains flung open to reveal a pissed-off flight attendant and Artie, or whatever, glowering down at me. I was so done with this bullshit traveling stuff and didn’t need their grumpy faces giving me attitude.
“What?” I demanded in an unkindly tone. “I just want to get my stuff and get off this plane.”
Mr. Sexy, whose name I couldn’t pronounce for the life of me, stepped in front of the attendant and helped me to my feet. With one deft move, he lifted my suitcase down and handed it to me.
“All you had to do was ask, lass.”
I glared up at the sexy giant. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t want to interrupt the good time you were having.” I crossed my arms and pouted, then uncrossed my arms and pressed them down my sides. I was seconds away from a full-blown tantrum and I didn’t even know why.
His knowing smirk was too much. I pushed past him and practically ran for the door. The crew frowned as I pressed my way to the front, but I didn’t care. I wanted off this plane, and now, so no one would see my tears. I was way out of my depth in every way and needed a quiet spot to recover where I wasn't crowded by so many bodies.
The door opened and the tarmac of Glasgow airport lay before me. The plane landed in the place I’d been dreaming about for so long, yet I was in such an upset that getting on my knees and kissing Scottish soil was the last thing I felt like doing.
If my attitude hadn’t decided that fact, then the weather did. We’d landed in a torrential downpour. And of course, my rain jacket was crammed down in the bottom of my bag. To get it out would hold up the line. Screw it! Shrugging my shoulders, I held on to the railing, made my way down the passenger stairs and hurried inside the building. Despite my speed, I was soaked and relieved that I’d spent the extra money to make sure my carry-on luggage was waterproof.
I joined the line to pass through their version of customs, which consisted of two people at either side of a long tunnel scanning passports as we walked through. Around me, accents rang out and I couldn’t help the smile that lightened my mood. I really was here, and now things would get better, I just knew it.
I’d spoken too soon. When I arrived outside, there was a huge queue from another flight waiting on taxis. I was freezing and the rain came down at an angle so no matter where I stood, I got wet. Some of the local women stood around in short skirts and shirts not seemingly bothered by the biting-cold rain. Granted, it was September and when I’d left Canada, it had been a warm 18 degrees Celsius, so I assumed for them, this was “normal” weather, whereas for me, it felt like late fall.
Scanning around, I saw nowhere I could go and hide from the rain while I waited for the logjam to ease. I huffed and turned to go inside when I bumped into a hard, muscular chest, hitting my nose on a breastbone.
“Ouch!” I glared up to see What’s-His-Name staring down. “Artie. You couldn’t possibly be waiting for a taxi, where’s your private vehicle, hmm?”
“Artair. I’m here to offer you a ride.”
Now I felt kinda bad for being such a brat. “How do I know it’s safe? I mean how do I know you won’t hurt me?”
“Oh, I’ll most certainly hurt you. But not in the way you’re imagining. Did you know that when one’s arse has been striped with a belt and the blood flows to that area, the entire body heats up?”
He raised his brow and was so sexy it was indecent.
I gulped at the promise in his eyes. “You mean you’re going to spank me?”
“Oh most definitely.”
My heart beat out of control and a charge like lightning streaked through me, making my clit vibrate. This was such a cliché and I wondered if my girlfriend back home had set this up, but there was no way she was capable of something like this.
“What if I don’t want you to?” I spoke so quietly I wasn’t sure if he’d heard me.
His head tilted slightly as he continued to gaze at me. “Then I’d call you a liar.”
My belly was doing flip-flops at an alarming rate. How did he know? “By agreeing to the offer of a ride, am I also agreeing to be spanked?”
