Sexy Berkeley (1) (3 page)

"Berkeley," he offers with a warm smile.
Mmm, oh yes, sexy, sexy Berkeley.
"But please, call me Daniel. I'm actually returning from a business trip, I live in Los Angeles."

Damn it, why can't he live in London?

"How long were you in the UK for? London?"

"Yes, I was in London. Only for two days, unfortunately."

I nod, not really taking in what he said. I'm too caught up imagining what it would be like to remove his clothes...
oh my god, Beatrice, get a grip!  

~~~~~~~

The next couple of hours seemed to fly by, so to speak. We talked about our lives a little bit, Daniel Berkeley works at his father's company as a 'CBDO'... I'm not sure what one of those is but it's of no relevance to me. I was more interested in ogling the covetable muscular frame sitting next to me. He has a sister who also works in the family business, a best 'buddy' called Luke who he likes to play golf with, and he loves skiing in Aspen. You can learn a lot in just a couple of hours!

We continue ordering drinks and relax in each other's company. He's so easy to talk to, if we were in the UK and he lived there, I would definitely pursue something further with this spectacular man. If he was interested. And single. And straight. But as it is, he's a hot mother fucker that I get to flirt with for a few hours before landing in glorious Los Angeles for the trip of a lifetime.

Gradually, as our fellow passengers dispersed from the bar, I loosened up, and had a hard time trying to suppress the urge to do dirty things to him. The way he was sitting at the bar, his heels on the stool's foot rest, his legs open, facing me, one arm resting on the bar, the other on his thigh, holding his glass. I could have ripped this man's clothes off and sunk my teeth into his hot flesh right there and then. His body language told me he must be straight... it might be presumptuous, but I'm pretty certain he'd been throwing me the odd flirtatious glance.

"So,
Mr. Berkeley, I'd like to know a little more about you." 

"Fire away, Miss Hart," he responds, his voice deep and sexy.

"Is there a Mrs. Berkeley?" Straight in there Bea. Good girl.

"There certainly is;
Mrs. Rose Berkeley."
Oh, fiddlesticks.
"She's the most beautiful, incredible woman in the world." My foot stopped swaying of its own accord upon hearing his revolting declaration of love for the woman. "I'm proud to call her my mom. But I'm not married, if that's what you mean." His grin broadened, sexily, and I couldn't help but grin with him.

"Yes, that's what I meant and I think you knew that."

"How about you? I assume that there's no Mr. Hart, as you're not wearing a wedding ring and I've been calling you
Miss
Hart for the last two hours. You haven't corrected me yet."

"You assume correctly,
Mr. Berkeley."

"Boyfriend?"

"Not currently," I replied. "You?"

"Not at the
moment, but my preference is for women, so I think it unlikely that I'll have one of those in the near future."
Bingo.

I rolled my eyes at him, even though I was thoroughly enjoying our banter. "You do like to play with me Berkeley, don't you?"

His eyes sparkled. "Oh, I'd love to play with you,
Hart
, was that an invitation?"
Whoa! Down boy!

"It most certainly was not. Well, not if you don't answer the question, anyway," I grinned salaciously. I could see he was getting a little hot under the collar, but the naughty woman inside me just couldn't stop encouraging the poor man. Not now I know he's available for fun.

"Beatrice, fortunately, I don't have a girlfriend right now."

"Fortunately?"

"Very fortunately."

"You're not keen on having a girlfriend?"

"Oh, I am, but when I meet a beautiful, intriguing young woman like you, I prefer not to have one."

"Um, do you know where I can find a bucket?" I giggled.

"Hey!" he chuckled as he played wounded with the cutest, sexiest pout I have ever seen.
Swoon.

I stroked his knee in mock sympathy. I can only imagine what his knees look like, outside of his clothes, I bet they're hot too.
 
Oh come off it, Bea, seriously? Since when have you found knees sexy?
 God, I think I'd find this man's grunion sexy. "You know, Mr. Berkeley, I don't think I'll have any more to drink, I don't want to get into trouble on an aeroplane."

"Very wise, Miss Hart, very wise indeed. Would you like to return to your seat? I'd love to join you, I am thoroughly enjoying your company."

"That would be very nice, thank you."

Sitting for a while and consuming a few of glasses of bubbly at thirty thousand feet, does something to a little human like me. As I stood, I wobbled, trying to get my balance, and before I knew it, he had grabbed me by the waist and pulled me into his hard body.
Jesus Christ
, I could have had an orgasm, right there and then. I could feel that I was having a similar effect on him, by the large, hard bulge pressing into my stomach. As we paused briefly, I capriciously placed my hands on his hips and moved my body against his, ever so slightly. The sensation running through me was incredible, I wanted him so badly. 

"Miss Hart, do you think we could wait here for a moment longer?"

"Yes, is there a problem?" I asked, knowing exactly what the problem was.

"Other than the huge tent you've just pitched in my front yard? No."
 

What?
I looked at him, slightly confused. When he leaned back and glanced down, I immediately realised what the term 'pitching a tent' meant, and grinned at the terminology. "Ah, I see. I do apologise, that was rather an
awkward
place for me to pitch up," I smirked, this was very entertaining. I decided to be forward, highly unlike me but hell, I'd had a few drinks and I'll never see the man again. "Berkeley, can I be frank?"

"Of course, Hart," he looked intrigued.

"You're, um, smoking hot. I have an uncontrollable urge to kiss you right now, however, I'm not sure that would do much to help the camping situation in your trousers."

He chuckled, contagiously. "That was definitely, frank, Beatrice. But you're right, if we were to act on that, I fear we'd be stuck here until landing. I'd like to get back to your seat so I can tell you what else I'd like to do to you."

My knees almost gave way, I
so
needed to hear what that was, torturous as it may be. This was so hot, this situation was just so, so
hot
. The idea of fucking this man in a public toilet was becoming increasingly acceptable. It's disgusting and I wouldn't but... oh, how I wanted to. Why don't they have some 'mile high bedroom' for this sort of situation? Fuck.
If only.

"Here, hold my hands and stay close," I said, turning away from him and holding his hands at my sides so he was pressed up against my behind. It felt good.
 

"No one will notice it if we walk like this, besides, everyone will be engrossed
in their TV or laptops by now."

We strolled up the aisle, hand in hand, giggling at our private joke. We passed Tilly's seat and I looked down to see if she was awake, but she was tucked up, fast
asleep. The effects of the mega-late night last night must have been catching up on her.

We arrived back at my seat after an amusing and terribly arousing stroll.

"Thank you, Beatrice, I think that worked." 

"I think it did too. And call me Bea."

 He leaned in towards me, his scent, intoxicating.
Wow
, he's so handsome. "So, Miss Hart, you were saying?" 

"Yes,
Mr. Berkeley
, what was I saying?"

"Well, if memory serves correctly, you were telling me that I was - and I quote - 'smokin' hot', and that you had an uncontrollable urge to kiss me. How's that working out for ya?"
 

Good god, can I strip him here and now? Is that really illegal?
I suddenly became unexpectedly shy, my cheeks blushing scarlet. Very strange considering I'd been quite the hussy, thus far. "Um..."

"Suddenly so shy, Beatrice?" His fingers reached for my chin and he gently pulled my face towards him.
 
Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!
 

I
 glanced at his beautiful mouth, his lips full and ready. He closed the distance and our lips met. The tingle that ran from my fingers, through to my crotch and down to the tips of my toes combined with the wild fluttering in my belly, deliciously. Our tongues brushed against each other, sensually, and my hand found the soft hair on the back of his neck. I pulled his face into mine, deepening the pleasure, his stubble grazing the skin around my lips, it felt good, so... masculine.

His hand stroked the side of
my face as our pace picked up, hot and heady. We were in our own world.
More. I need more.
I wanted him naked, between my legs. I needed to feel him touch me. I vaguely noticed the buttons at the front of my jeans pressing into me where I was squirming down into my chair, fruitlessly trying to ease the overwhelming pressure. 

As a ping from the cabin interrupted us, we broke away from each other, breathlessly.
 I rested my forehead against his. "Fuck," I whispered, dazed.

"Fuck indeed. Bea, you are... wow."

"This is, um, not like me at all, must be the alcohol and altitude. I'm sorry." I giggled, nervously.  
God, I hope he doesn't think I'm a complete slag-bag.

"Please, don't be, this is turning out to be a very entertaining flight, my most entertaining yet, and I fly a lot..."

"So you don't do this often, then?"

"Make out with an especially hot stranger mid-flight? No."

His response made me smile, shyly. I was still hot, needing more, I didn't want to stop. "You haven't told me," I whispered.

He reached for my hand and started to play with my fingers, twisting them around his. It felt strange, good-strange, something you might do after a couple of dates though, not after brief tongue encounter with a stranger you just met on an aeroplane.
"Haven't told you?" he asked.

I smiled coyly at him, and looked directly into his hot greeny-blue eyes.
"Tell me what you'd like to do to me."

His eyes burned brightly, he wanted me and I'd made it perfectly clear that I wanted him too. The fact that neither of us was going to 'get' the other was totally irrelevant, this was just, oh-so-exciting. Outrageous flirting on the eleven and a half hour flight that, this time yesterday, I had no idea I would even be on, was wildly unexpected and very hot.

In a few hours, when we disembark at LAX, we'll both go our separate ways and never see each other again, which, although slightly depressing, makes this so much more electric. What I'm doing is so unlike me, so brazen, but I feel alive, sexy and carefree.

I wasn't sure if it was the unbelievably gorgeous specimen leaning into me, licking and nibbling my neck, the alcohol mixed with altitude or the effects of my earlier panic attack that turned me into this outrageously horny, sex pest - maybe a combination of all three - but whatever it was, I was loving it, and in a few short hours I'd be back to my normal, boring self. So I decided to damn well enjoy it while it could last. I'm starting my amazing holiday with a bang...
Oh if only
.

~~~~~~~

We're ten hours into the flight and it won't be long until we start the decent into LAX. It has been, without a doubt, the most thrilling, exciting flight experience of my life and I do not want it to end. Usually, if I'm travelling alone, I'm crammed into a tiny seat, elbows nudging the smelly randomer next to me, counting down the minutes until a hideous landing. Not this time.

Since the very first moment that I set eyes on the centre-fold, stud-muffin that is Daniel Berkeley, I have been in a permanent state of arousal. When he talks to me, he makes me feel like I'm the only other person on the aircraft, his full attention on me.

He is a pro, I have to give him that, no girl has a chance when he sets his sights on her. He probably manages this with a different girl, every night of the week. Normally, that would bother me, but it doesn't today. This is a one off, sexually charged encounter on an aeroplane that I will never have again, and I'm loving every minute.

As I relax into my seat while Daniel has a 'bathroom break', I recall the moment he whispered in my ear between kisses, telling me all of the naughty things he wanted to do with me, and my stomach ties itself in knots for the millionth time. The buzz between my legs is almost unbearable.
Holy fuck, I'm horny as hell.

I’
ve hardly spoken to Tilly this whole flight. On a couple of occasions, I popped over to say 'hi', but she kept shooing me back to my seat to carry on cavorting with the god. She travels to her sister’s a couple of times a year, so she's used to travelling alone. I think she's just revelling in the fact that she's sitting in this luxury. She donned the super sexy airline pjs and has eaten/drank/used, everything and anything that you don't usually get in economy.