Passenger Princess

by Morgan Elizabeth

I remember what I’ve been saying for the past three months: inspiring the followers I accidentally accumulated and using it as a platform to encourage women and girls to bet on themselves, take a chance on themselves, and do one thing that scares them every day. Shoulders back, tits out, bitch. You were born for great things.

“See ya later, big guy,” I say as I teeter on my tall heels in front of him and pat his chest. “You know, you’d be a lot hotter if you were just a smidge.” I hold up my pointer finger and thumb, pinching them so there’s a tiny gap between my fingers. “Less grumpy.” “Noted,” he says, and even though he fights it, I can see it: the tiniest hint of a smile, the whisper of it on the edges of his lips. “Get home safe, princess.”

“Funny thing is, unlike you, I’m exactly like other girls, and I’m grateful for that. I love being relatable and approachable. I like pink frilly things, bows, and makeup. I love getting my fancy coffees, reading my silly little romance books, and listening to the same music as other girls because it’s fun. The only difference between me and other girls, like, say, you, is I don’t judge people for what they do or do not like. I just let them live their best lives and cheer them on.” Next, I turn to Regina.

“One thing,” I say. “What’s that?” “Don’t fall in love with me, big guy, okay?” I ask, reaching up and patting his cheek. His jaw goes tight. “I promise that won’t be a problem.” “Is that a challenge?” For the first time, he smiles back. From here, I see one dent in his cheek. A dimple. “Do your worst, Princess.” “God, you don’t even know what you just did, do you?” I ask, my smile spreading as I shake my head in disbelief, moving my purse over my shoulder. “If there’s one thing I love, it’s a challenge. Literally won an entire pageant just to see if I could. But you? You might become my favorite challenge yet.” I almost don’t hear him mumble under his breath as I walk out “And you might just be mine.”

This is going to be a miserable fucking summer. Everything this woman does rubs me in a way that makes me want to simultaneously strangle her and drag her into a room to fuck her until she can't argue with me anymore.

I have no fucking clue why, with everything she does or says, I feel the need to push back and give her a hard time. It's like I want her to pull out that sass, to flirt with me and make my dick hard. When she stopped to talk to that girl, I knew there wasn't a threat. The group ahead of us was walking so slowly that it was not like we were going to lose them. But something about her complete disregard for her safety makes me want to argue with her. And then she gave the girl's father, who had no ring on his finger and wouldn't stop staring at her tits, her email, and the rage boiled in my veins. It makes no sense, the way it irritated me, and I should have buried it beneath all my other emotions and kept my mouth shut, but I couldn't help it. It's like some kind of gut instinct to fuck with her just to get her riled up. I can see how Ava fired up, ready to prove me, or anyone, for that matter, wrong about her, could quickly become my favorite thing in the world. The uncomfortable truth is that no matter how annoyed I am by her, I met Ava Bordeaux in a crowded bar and haven't been able to stop thinking about her since.

"This is how it works, Ava. I kiss you. Every time, I kiss you, and I do it in a way that you can never forget what it's like to be kissed by a man wholly and completely obsessed with you."

"Fucking weeks, teasing me in your sweet little outfits." I nip at her neck and she moans again, bucking against me, tipping her head to the side to give me more room to work with. "Teasing me and telling me I'm into you when all I want to do is do my fucking job and try to forget how much I want you. You know how much I want you, though, Ava, don't you? You've known since that first day. I'm shit at hiding it." My tongue runs up the skin of her neck before I bite her earlobe. Her hips are moving now, a gentle rocking against my hard cock. "I want you too," she whispers, a plea. "I know, Princess. Fuck, do I know. I don't know how much longer I can resist you."