My Dark Romeo: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance
My Dark Romeo: Chapter 27

Four hours later, the lull of sanity came to an abrupt end.

Shortbread was awake and quite sober, judging by the time it took her to tumble to the carpet in a panic, kicking my shins as she realized she’d slept on top of me.

“Get off me,” she roared from her place on the floor.

I flipped another page of my newspaper. I’d been reading the same article for approximately three months. It was hard to concentrate with her pressed against my cock.

I normally prided myself on being immune to women’s charms. Then again, it had been a while since I spent so much time next to a gorgeous one.

“I was never on top of you.”

And never would be, for that matter.

Shortbread frowned, crossed her ankles, then slapped her forehead. The memories of the last twelve hours must’ve rushed through her system.

I hoped she remembered everything.

That we were now legally married.

That she’d drunk enough to fill a bathtub.

That she’d vomited on everything but the plane’s wings, propositioned me with the finesse of a telemarketer, then passed out on top of me.

“I think I’m going to throw up again just from the memory of rubbing myself against you.” She covered her mouth, visibly shivering. “I hope I didn’t catch an STD from my proximity to you.”

“Say all your prayers tonight, and I might just spare you my genital warts.”

I yawned, though internally, I itched to yell at her that, if she was so worried about sexually transmitted diseases, she should be thankful she didn’t end up with Madison A Pack of Condoms A Night Licht.

The man had enough notches on his belt to make a pasta sieve.

She eyed me with disbelief. “Be serious. Have you checked lately?”

“No. But I haven’t been sexually active recently, either.”

She paused, frowning at me. “You haven’t?”

I shook my head, unsure why I’d chosen to explain myself to this utter hot mess of a human.

“Not even Morgan?”

Especially not Morgan.

I wouldn’t touch Morgan if the world ran out of women and the two of us had to repopulate it. Civilization had a good run, and frankly, it blew it.

“No one.”

The wheels began churning in that pretty head of hers, but I didn’t care enough to wonder what she was thinking. Whatever it was, suffice to say I’d be in complete disagreement with it.

“Don’t tell me you’re actually considering being faithful.” She pulled a face like it was a bad thing.

Was her type cheating scumbags? That would explain why she still pined for Licht.

“A hole is a hole. Might as well be yours.”

Tipping her head back, she laughed joylessly. “No wonder your parents named you after the epitome of romantic heroes. They must’ve known what a dreamboat you’d be.”

“My parents named me Romeo after my father, who was named after his father.”

The buck stopped with me, though.

No more Romeo Costas.

The world could thank me later.

She bit her lip, still on the floor. “I have been wondering about…sex things.”

I rested the newspaper on my lap, sending her a leveled look. “Is that an invitation?”

“Will you…RSVP?” She bit down a grin.

Another laugh fizzed in my throat. When she wasn’t a waste of space, she was surprisingly bearable.

I arched a brow. “Is the host still under the influence?”

Her cheeks colored pink. “No.”

“Will you try to kill me?” I asked slowly, like a parent chiding a child.

“Not in this instance.”

A beat of silence passed between us.

I was highly aware of the stewardess busying herself in the kitchen, pretending like she wasn’t eavesdropping on our bizarre conversation.

I was no voyeur, but I wasn’t anxious about the middle-aged woman watching, either.

Tossing the newspaper aside, I patted my knee. “Come sit on my lap.”

“Manners,” she said, in the same tone I’d used for her toothbrush demand.

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell Dallas to learn about the pleasures of sex through Tumblr and a dildo. Then Zach’s words drifted into my memory.

Try to make an effort.

There was no reason to butt horns with this delectable, strong-headed, simple creature before me. Our short time spent together would be more pleasant if I humored her every once in a while.

“Please.” The word tasted foreign. I pulled both corners of my lips up, trying my hand at a smile.

“Ugh, stop making that face. It looks like you’re planning to eat me.”

I was planning to eat her, though not in the way her innocent head thought.

She peeked around, disoriented, completely missing the fact that there was a stewardess behind her.

“Oh, whatever. Life’s too short, and if anyone ever asks, I’ll deny ever getting close to you.” She stood and made her way to me. Shortbread draped herself across my lap, blinking up at me expectantly. “What now?”

There were a few options, all of them filthy and depraved, but I figured the safest route to take would be to leave her begging for more.

And that meant postponing my own release and prepping her for the future. She would have to adhere to my certain tastes and rules, some of them I had yet to explore myself.

My eyes dropped to the MIT hoodie. “Did I give you permission to wear my sweatshirt?”

“Well, no, but—”

“Take it off. Now.”

She opened her mouth, about to argue. I tipped an eyebrow up, daring her to.

“Right. Right.” She pursed her lips, catching the hem of my sweatshirt and pulling it off, remaining only in her bra. “I guess that’s…sexy talk, right?”

I couldn’t decide if she was adorable or pitiful. More than likely, she was both.

But as her magnificent breasts stared back at me, barely contained by her strapless bra and begging for attention, I forgot whom they were attached to altogether.

Seizing her by the ass, I pulled her to grind against my cock. She jerked forward, her face an inch from mine.

“This is what you do to me.” I lifted her up by the ass, then slammed her back down on my cock. She gasped, her eyes flaring. “I’ve run beyond the scope of disliking you, Shortbread. In fact, I should invent a new word altogether for what I feel for you. And still, I cannot, for the life of me, resist your temptation.”

Instead of quarreling, Shortbread seemed to get the hang of it and shut me up with a dirty, wet kiss.

It was all tongue and teeth. An amateur kiss, like a fawn trying its luck on its legs for the first time. Clumsy, yet magical.

She didn’t even draw back to take a single breath. Her tongue found mine, and she was no longer timid and unsure.

She wanted this.

Trembling, her hands roamed everywhere. My face, my hair, my shoulders, my pecs, my scars. They lingered over the jagged, pronounced skin, and I knew she wanted to know what happened.

My mouth moved south from her lips to her chin, then down to her throat and collarbone, leaving hot, wet kisses everywhere it landed.

She tipped her head back and groaned. Her fingers gripped my hair, tugging too hard, too desperately. I yanked her bra down to her waist, popping her tits free.

“We’re not alone.” She panted, gyrating on my cock.

I knew I would regret it when we landed and my balls turned the color of blueberries, but I couldn’t stop myself.

“She won’t breathe a word. She’s under contract.” I groaned into her skin, catching her nipple between my teeth and tugging at it until she held her breath.

I felt the airplane lower and knew we must have neared Paris. However, neither the stewardess nor the pilots were dumb enough to approach me while I was busy devouring Dallas’s tits like they were my very last meal.

I licked and sucked and tugged and scraped at her pale-pink nipples, cupping her tits and giving them a tender slap every now and then.

My dick pulsated between her legs. I could tell her clit was pressing over my strained zipper because the friction was driving her crazy.

Her head lolled from side to side. “Oh, Lord. This is so…so…”

But she couldn’t replace the right word, and I was in no hurry to encourage her to talk.

“Sir…” A voice drifted from the background. It was distinctively male, which meant the stewardess didn’t want to deal with me herself. She’d sent a pilot. “We’re fast approaching Le Bourget. In fact, we’re scheduled to land in fifteen minutes and already got the green light from the—”

“No,” I said with conviction, my mouth enclosed around Dallas’s entire tit. I covered most of her innocence with my arms, but I still didn’t like that he hovered next to us like a creep. “Leave.”

“Sir, we have to prepare for landi—”

“No, we don’t.” I lifted my head from between Shortbread’s chest, shooting daggers at him with my eyes. “My plane, my rules. We have enough fuel to circle around for another hour.”

“An hour? That’s a waste of—”

“Your entire being is a waste. Can’t you see I’m pleasuring my wife? Either you replace your way back into the cockpit and circle around Paris until we’re done, or I’ll kick you out of here myself.”

He bolted back into the cockpit, where, I assumed, the stewardess also hid for the remainder of the flight while I showered Dallas’s tits with kisses, licks, and sucks.

She giggled as soon as he left and thrust her breasts in my face, basking in the attention. “You’re so awful.”

“I don’t remember you standing up for dear Paddy when I told him to turn the plane around.”

I dove right back to doing what appeared to be working best for me and my wife—me driving her to the edge of orgasm without actually taking her to her destination point, and her giggling and pulling at my hair until I went bald.

When the plane landed an hour later, Dallas’s chest was red, raw, and full of marks. It was also covered by my MIT hoodie and a coat I threw on her, just in case.

Overall, not the best flight I’d had by a long mile.

But at least, unlike the one we’d shared from Georgia, I didn’t nearly kill anyone.

Which reminded me…

I hoped, wherever Scott was, he remembered his new life motto.

Never touch what belonged to Romeo Costa Jr.