Page 6 of Hostile Cravings
Gritting my teeth, I bit back the urge to throw her over my knee and give her a good spanking. Just when I’d felt sorry for her, she went and returned to her usual snarky ways.
“Too bad, because my tiny shithole is where you’re stuck now unless you want me to drop you off at Joey Tirenti’s house. I’m sure he’d beat that attitude right out of you and have you begging like a dog for his cock in no time.”
She stopped suddenly and turned to me, throwing me off guard so that I slammed into her. “You are a mean and nasty brute, Tyson Raines.” She poked me in the chest with her finger on each word.
Laughing in her face, I grabbed her finger and licked it, watching the horror that overtook her features.
“Doesn’t taste like pussy yet, but a few days of keeping your legs closed for other men and I bet those fingers will taste good.” Her face morphed into disgust. “Although with as vile of a bitch as you are, Angie, they won’t.”
She snatched her hand from me and huffed away, dropping into my seat. Breck laughed behind me, and I peered over my shoulder at him. “Do you see that?” I asked as the plane door closed.
“Sure do, boss.”
“You’re in my seat,” I told her. “Get up.”
Crossing her arms, she pouted her lips at me, saying, “You have assigned seats like a schoolboy?”
My jaw ticked, my hands wringing the way I wanted to wring her neck. Walking over to her, I bent and picked her up, throwing her over my shoulder. She kicked and yelled for me to put herdown, her fists hitting my back. I smacked her ass, her indignant yelp her only response. Plopping her two seats behind me, I left her there.
“Stay there or I’ll tie you into the seat,” I muttered, taking my seat as my men took theirs.
The flight attendant gave me a playful smile, and I considered inviting her over to put it to use, but Mason had warned me about playing with the staff. Not that I ever paid attention to him. She wasn’t worth the rise I’d get out of Angie for it. I’d fucked her on my way to Armina before the shit with Donelli went down and I’d had better. Besides, Angie had me so pissed off and worked up, I wasn’t sure my body could even function right now.
She walked toward me and bent down, her ample chest tempting me. “Do you need help getting settled in, Mr. Raines?”
Damn, it was tempting. “And how would you propose to help me?” I asked.
She licked her lips and my cock sprung to life, just when I’d doubted it could.
“That would do the trick,” I said, about to yank those plump red lips lower.
“I don’t think so,” Angie said, pushing my treat away from me and sitting in the seat across from me. Her brown eyes were dark with envy. “Get your mouth away from my husband’s cock and your hands off of him.”
I raised a brow, trying to determine if I was angry that she’d stopped my fun or amused at her reaction.
The flight attendant looked between us, and I shrugged. “Sorry, sugar, looks like my bitch is calling the shots today.”
Angie’s brows creased, her mouth pursing, and I could see her gearing up with a verbal lashing.
I squeezed the flight attendant’s ass, saying, “Next time,” before shooing her away.
“I don’t get to play, you don’t get to play,” Angie said.
I leaned forward. “So are you going to satisfy this hard-on?”
She jerked back, her lips parting, and I momentarily wondered if she was the kind who swallowed before I shook the thought off, becoming slightly nauseous from it.
“No. You’re stuck with it, and I hope you have blue balls the whole trip.” One of the guys chuckled, and I eyed them. “Hitting on that slut right in front of me,” she continued to grumble.
“I wasn’t hitting on her. I was taking her up on her offer and that mouth would have relieved the tension you’ve caused in me.”
“Go to the bathroom and use your hand.”
“Haven’t had to do that in years, little viper. There are too many women willing to satisfy me to worry about my hand.”
Her brow rose, a smirk forming. “It’s gonna be a long few weeks then, Tyson, because your dick isn’t getting anywhere near me and that flight attendant isn’t getting within an inch of you, if I have any say.”
There was something about the possessive way she made that statement that simmered in my belly. She looked out the window, her blonde hair slipping over her shoulder, and I noted the way certain streaks looked almost white as if her hours in the sun had bleached them. I’d never taken the time to really look at her, unless it was with disgust. She had a pretty face with a small nose that, when she didn’t have it turned upwards, was cute. Her lips were naturally plump, the pink of her lipstick still staining them. She wore too much makeup, and I wondered what she was trying to cover up.
