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Designs on the DJ Episode 4

Jameson﹒

Stepping inside the Jacksonville airport, I winced and slipped my sunglasses back on. With a pounding head, I found the queue to check my luggage, offering a tight smile to the attendant who flirtatiously scolded me for a late check-in. 

I should’ve been at the airport an hour ago.

In a mad rush to not miss my flight, I’d skipped a shower but managed to finger-comb my hair and brush my teeth. Nothing I could do about the grogginess and stench of vodka seeping from my pores.

Shuffling through security, I rubbed my temples. Not smart on the extra shots before calling it a night. Usually in better control, my good sense had taken a leave of absence in the wake of meeting Sydney and Drew, and only worsened after his surprise visit by the pool. Like a lad with a schoolyard crush, my cock and I had obsessed over them for most of the night until I fell into a drunken sleep.

Inside the terminal, I hurried to the nearest gift shop, requiring some medicinal relief before I had to sit on a plane for three hours. What my hangover needed was a full English breakfast, but beggars.

As the young cashier rang me up, she eyed me and my selections. 

“Looks like someone had a good New Year’s Eve,” she said with a grating giggle. 

Bollocks. 

Read the room. I was not in a proper state for felicitations. With a curt nod, I ripped open the packet and washed down the two paracetamol tablets with half a bottle of water.

As I made my way to the departure gate, my skin prickled to life seconds before my eyes landed on Sydney. I yanked off my sunglasses, certain my vodka-addled mind had produced a hallucination. Then a second, different tingle floated over to me from the seating area. Drew had also locked onto my arrival. The thump in my chest sped up as our mutual astonishment rooted us and travelers flowed around us like water around stones.

Perhaps I should play the lottery because twice now I’d been contemplating the couple and —poof!—they appeared. What I could do about it beyond a hello or wave of acknowledgment, I didn’t know.

Drew broke the spell first, gesturing for me. I waited, allowing Sydney to precede me before joining them in the departure lounge.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he said after wrapping an arm around her waist.  

I stopped at an acceptable distance, cursing again my overindulgence and hoping the obnoxious odor I emitted didn’t reach their noses. Sydney, on the other hand, smelled divine, a tropical scent lingering on the air as she’d passed by. 

She’d been spectacular dressed in her silver flapper costume, but the everyday version pierced my heart. Her hair was pulled in a ponytail and she wore tortoiseshell glasses, both highlighting her electric blue eyes. Black yoga pants hugged her legs and arse as if they’d been painted on, and her gray pullover didn’t hide the hard peaks of her nipples.

I did my best not to up-down her again, especially in front of Drew, but that was like visiting the Louvre and ignoring the masterpieces.

“You’re flying to Dallas?” I pointed to the gate sign behind the counter. 

“Yes,” Drew said. “We live about thirty minutes north, in Plano.”

Unavailable was still unavailable regardless of the postal code.

“What about you?” Sydney asked.

“I start a new job there next week. Radio presenter.”

Her voice took on a husky tone. “So your sexy accent will be broadcast over the airwaves for all to hear.” 

Drew cocked an eyebrow at her before smiling at me. A warning? I didn’t blame the chap. I’d eyeball poachers, too. Although, I detected more curiosity than animosity coming from him.

“I don’t know about sexy,” I said. “Soon afternoon drive time will be treated to my British arse.” 

“No more parties?” he asked.

“The New Year’s Eve party was my last for a while. When I got started in my early twenties, you couldn’t beat the life. Now, not so much.”

The loudspeakers blasted overhead, announcing their flight would begin boarding. Sydney leaned forward and kissed Drew’s cheek. “I’ll see you onboard.”

“All right, hon. Mr. DJ, where are you sitting?”

“First class.” 

He clapped me on the shoulder. “Us too. Come on. I’ll keep you company.” 

She didn’t follow as he led me to the jetbridge. “Is she not coming?”

“She’ll be coming a little later,” he said with a mischievous gleam, his pitch coated in subtext. 

No doubt their evening would end in the same manner as last night. I longed to witness it, be privy to their bedroom secrets. Would they tear at each other and fuck wildly, or would they be tender and vulnerable? Or maybe alternate between the two?

Regardless, I bet all the quid in my wallet she was a sight to behold as she came undone, eyes hooded and lips parted. As the orgasm rippled through her, would she pant, moan, or scream?

I had to get this shite out of my head. The triple-X visions made both my heads throb in displeasure, and the best course of action was to create some distance. 

But it wouldn’t be on the plane. We had the two aisle seats in the same row. As soon as I landed in Dallas, I was purchasing a lottery ticket because serendipity had sprinkled her mischief around like confetti.

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I write contemporary romance and romantic suspense why-choose stories.

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