Текст книги "Sudden Desires"

Автор книги: Shanora Williams

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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 11 страниц)

TEN

Angelina

“Get up here,” Griff growls.

The bass in his voice swirls me in desire. I flip onto my stomach, looking up at him as he sits at the head of the bed. His chiseled face is relaxed, chocolate eyes glazed over due to the drink he had not too long ago.

Lightning strikes the sky and he looks towards the open balcony door.

“Haven’t had enough?” I ask, crawling up the bed to reach him. My hands go outside his legs and I lick my lips as I hover right above his manhood.

His eyes flicker down for a brief moment before pulling back up to mine. “Not even close, Angel.”

I grin, my palm drifting up his thigh. “Should I take care of that?” We both look down at his hard, anxious member, and he smirks.

“It’s only right.”

Leaning forward, I grab hold of him and kiss the tip. He groans, tensing beneath me. “Relax,” I whisper.

When I look up his throat works hard to swallow. I stroke his smooth flesh, the veins ridging across my palm. He tenses again, as if it feels so good he’ll cum in seconds.

I have longed to taste him for quite some time now. Like really, truly taste him. I have wanted him to run across my tongue for so long that I mentally sigh when my tongue finally finds the head of his cock and licks.

“Yeah,” he murmurs as I wrap my entire mouth around him. “Suck that cock, Angel.” His wish is my command.

In an instant I swallow him whole, cupping his balls in my free hand and dragging a heavy moan out of him. I look up the entire time, watching him watch me.

Something about his heated stare is so hot and so daring, turning me on by the second.

His eyes are on fire, sparking with true lust and yearning. I moan as I lift up and then sink back down, sucking his full length into my mouth, gagging as he touches the back of my throat.

Griffin’s head falls back and he sighs so loudly it makes me walls quiver.

When his head drops again, he grabs my arm and pulls me up. I stop, allowing him to drag me up, bringing us chest-to-chest.

He lifts my hips, and as I get into a wide squat, he eases me on top of his cock. Each hard, savory inch tips me closer and closer to the edge.

I balance myself when he’s all in, my hands on his shoulders.

Nostrils flared, jaw locked, he cups my ass and whispers, “Fuck me, Angel.”

And I do. I ride Griffin so hard and so fast I feel like I’m losing myself. Each fill of his thickness, each hit against my g-spot, pulls me closer and closer and, goodness, I can’t help myself.

“You like how my cock feels inside of you, Angelina? Huh?” He leans forward, holding me closer as if he never wants to let go.

“Yes,” I pant, bouncing on his cock, circling my hips, soaking every inch.

“It’s exactly what you dreamed of, right?” He’s breathing heavy, voice husky and deep. “I know it is ‘cause this pussy—fuck, Angel, this pussy is everything I’ve dreamed of and so much more.”

Damn it. I swear he always knows what to say to drive me right to the edge.

I straddle his lap, and he squeezes my ass in his large hands, spanking me with each bounce.

Each spank is encouragement for me. Each dirty little mark on my skin not only means I am about to climax, but that he is too.

“You feel so fucking good around me.” He sinks his teeth into my chin. It’s not painful or light. It’s just the right amount to provide pleasure.

His mouth moves to the crook of my neck, and one hand goes around my waist, tugging me close. He curses beneath his breath, and when he unleashes a purely satisfied moan, I cry to the rooftop, my indulgence echoing past the balcony walls.

I spasm on top of him, arms locked around his neck, my fingernails digging into his skin. Griffin clings to me, panting raggedly. His sweat smells sweet, and my walls clench with each pulse he spurts inside me.

“Fuck, Angelina,” he grumbles.

“What?” I ask, laughing, panting.

“I just… I don’t even know what to say right now.”

“You’re silly,” I murmur.

“And you are amazing.”

I lift up, battling a smile as I lay beside him. He flops back, blowing out a heavy breath and then pulls me against him.

Silence cascades down on us like the showers outside and for the first time it’s not awkward.

We are… satisfied.

Smiles are on both of our faces, and when he kisses me I feel somewhat… whole.

Grasping my chin, Griffin’s head tilts down and he kisses my lips. It’s sweet, savory, and makes me clench all over again.

“You are much naughtier than I thought you’d be, Mr. Boyd,” I tease.

He chuckles, his hand going down to my hip. Surveying the span of my body, he murmurs, “I don’t think you have much room to talk, Miss Clark.”

“I am a good girl.”

“An angel,” he jokes, and I grin, snuggling into his broad chest.

God, why do I fall even harder when he uses that name on me?

If only he knew what I was really about. I’m certain then that he wouldn’t call me his Angel.

Someone knocks on the door, and a light voice calls behind it, stirring me out of my sleep.

“Housekeeping!” the voice calls. I groggily look at Griffin. He’s still asleep, knocked the hell out. Another knock. “Housekeeping?”

“Uh… no! Not right now… I don’t think.”

There is no response, but I do hear the wheels of her cart roll by. Sighing, I flop back down and throw my forearm over my forehead. Griffin is breathing steadily, and when I open my eyes again, an urge hits me.

I face his large body, the one arm above his head, the other sprawled out. His hair is a mess, so beautiful it would seem wrong to touch it. But I do anyway, and it’s silky soft, just like I remember it to be from last night.

I look down, and when I see something long and hard prodding through the sheets, my lips twitch. He’s still sound asleep, but I wonder if he’ll feel me.

Lifting the sheets, I let my hand travel down his set of abs and to the rock between his legs. I massage his balls, and he gets even harder. I’m not sure how that is possible but he does, so I don’t stop.

I start a stroke along his length, and for some reason the way he murmurs in his sleep and sort of smiles, brings me pleasure, too.

So I lean into him a little further, stroking slowly, smoothly, until finally he turns from his side to his back. His eyes are still closed, but his lips part, and he groans, shuddering when I run my thumb over his tip.

I decide to fulfill the moment. Without stopping my strokes, I guide my body beneath the sheets, facing his cock.

I lower my stroking hand to his balls and rub them gently, carefully, and as I do, I bring his cock into my mouth. I explore him with my tongue, pulling my hair to one side, focusing on one thing: getting him to release again.

He twitches, and his hand meets at the back of my head. His eyes are squeezed tight, and then he runs his teeth across his bottom lip before sinking them into it.

All of him is deep down my throat, and he pushes down, heightening my arousal. He starts to speak… whispering. I’m not sure what he’s saying at first, but then it becomes clear.

“Ahh, yes,” Griffin groans, and my lips curve around his member. “Fuck yes. That feels so fucking good, Colette.”

My gaze jerks up, and my pleasing comes to a rapid halt. The center of my chest squeezes tight, and I frown while looking up at him. His eyes are still closed, face relaxed.

I swallow thickly, pulling away and sitting up straight. I shouldn’t be offended by this, should I? His wife’s name is a constant on his lips and he’s just gotten acquainted with mine.

But for some reason it still bothers me… to know that he still expects her to please him. To feel somewhat forgotten even though we’d just indulged in fantasies we never thought would happen—fantasies that never should have occurred.

I can’t let him see that I’m upset or bothered, so I take advantage of his drowsiness and climb out of the bed, slipping into my maxi dress that’s puddled by the ottoman and then sliding into my ballerina flats.

I grab my room key card and walk to the door, slightly defeated as I pull it open.

I hear a shift behind me, rustling of the sheets as he moves. “Hey,” Griffin calls before I can disappear.

“Yeah?” I keep my voice as light as possible as I peer over my shoulder.

He turns a bit, his voice thick with sleep and eyes squinty as he asks, “Where you going?”

“My room to shower. Clean up a bit.”

“You can shower here. I don’t mind.” He puts on a genuine smile. I would fall for it if he hadn’t just… well, you know.

I shrug. “Nah, it’s okay, Griffin. Don’t want to overbook my stay.”

He laughs. “It’s no problem, Angel. Really.”

That name now makes my skin feel dry and itchy. My throat thickens with unwanted emotions, but I block it out, squeezing the door handle.

“You know,” I turn a fraction of the way, holding up a swift finger and shaking my head. “It’s probably best if you don’t call me that, Griffin… Okay?”

His face yields on the amusement, his brows stitching together as his eyes roam the proximity of my body. He’s trying to figure me out… but I won’t let him get that far.

I force a smile and loosen my grip on the door handle. “I’ll see you later.”

He’s hesitant, but I’m out of the door that slowly shuts behind me when he says, “Okay… Angelina.”

He’s confused, and mildly upset.

Oh well. This is for the best. I can’t allow myself to get too carried away with him. After all, Griffin Boyd is only my associate, not my lover.

This only happens once. It definitely won’t happen again.

ELEVEN

Griffin

I collect my white, button-down dress shirt and khakis, hanging ironed and crisp in the closet.

I set it all up on the bed, and after I take a shower, I come back out to get dressed.

Not once has Angelina left my mind.

I’m still confused about her departure.

Is she going to avoid me now?

Did I say or do something wrong?

Or did she finally come to her senses and realize, like me, that perhaps we shouldn’t have given into the sudden desire.

I walk to the bathroom, adjusting my tie as I stare at my reflection. I was drunk, so fucking drunk and so fucking stupid.

She is my associate. We make a great team—hell, I work better with her than I do with Scott. So why fuck that up? With business, we are great together, but I don’t know what will happen now that I’ve left my trace inside of her.

I should find out if shit is okay between us. I should go check on her—hope she doesn’t actually regret fucking me.

After giving my pilot Ted a call and telling him to get the jet ready within the next hour and a half, I grab my room key, march for the door, and listen to it click shut behind me when I get halfway down the hallway.

I stop at her door and don’t hesitate to knock. I hear the loud whirring of a blow-dryer, but it stops immediately after my heavy knock.

Her footsteps pitter-patter across the floor and when they stop I know she’s looking out of the peephole. Several seconds pass and when the door doesn’t open, I sigh.

“Open up, Angelina. I know you’re still in there.”

There’s still silence on her side, but after a few seconds pass by, the handle clinks and the door swings open.

She’s wearing a silky pink robe, her hair damp and curly. Her face is clear of makeup, and when she notices my gaze dropping to her cleavage, she pulls the fabric across, uncomfortably concealing herself.

This woman looks just like the name I can’t help but call her.

Just like an angel.

A pure, raw angel with a body to fucking die for. My palm tingles, dying for a feel, and my throat thickens with need when I realize there is absolutely nothing beneath that robe at all.

Easy access has never seemed so delicious. I know she feels this too—this connection that can’t be denied or avoided.

I know because beneath her thin, silky pink robe are now a pair of pebbled pink nipples.

“What?” She folds her arms across her chest.

“What?” I repeat, stunned by her aggravation.

“Yeah, what is it? You need something?”

I frown at first, but to pretend I’m not bothered by her attitude, I ask, “I was just coming by to ask about your flight.”

“What about it?”

I inhale before exhaling. She’s testing my patience now. “Is it confirmed? Do you have a way home or will you need my pilot to come back and fly you out?”

“I have a way back. My flight is at three.”

“Oh. Okay good. Just checking.” I shift on my feet, narrowing my eyes at her. She matches my stare. I don’t know what’s up and honestly I don’t even think I want to know right now.

I start to turn and walk back to the room, but then I realize I need to know.

Did she not like it? Was I too rough? Too eager? Too demanding?

Everything seemed fine until this morning… when soberness settled in.

I spin back around and she’s still standing between the frames of her door. One of her eyebrows shoot up but I overlook the guard she puts up, marching ahead and stopping less than an inch away from her.

Her breath hitches, and her nostrils flare with desire as she stands up straight… and then I know. I know now that those questions I asked before have nothing at all to do with this.

I wasn’t too rough, or too eager, or even too demanding. I was just right, damn good if you ask me, and she hates that I was.

“What is your deal?” she snaps.

“What is yours?” I retort.

She blows a breath, head shaking.

When she doesn’t respond, I say, “Be a mature woman and say what’s on your mind, Angelina. Stop beating around the fucking bush. There is obviously something wrong—something I did—so tell me what it is I said… or did—whatever.”

I mean, seriously. One minute she’s sucking me off, and the next she’s out the door so fast I don’t have enough time to finish. I didn’t even get a chance to release my load. I had to finish with my damn hand and the watery hotel lotion.

Angelina drops her arms, squaring her shoulders and holding my glare. “You mean to tell me you don’t remember what you said this morning? All after I gave you the best wake up call of your life?”

My face warps with confusion. “No, I don’t know. What the hell did I say for you to react like this?”

She huffs a laugh and shakes her head. “This is unbelievable.”

“Christ, Angelina, I was half-asleep.” I rake my fingers though my hair roughly.

“Yeah,” she huffs again. “You know what? I don’t even know why I’m getting so upset about this. You said this is just sex, nothing more, and you are right.” She steps back and grabs the door handle again. “Later, Mr. Boyd.” She begins to shut the door but I prevent it, fingers curling around the doors edge.

“Tell me what I said,” I say through clenched teeth.

She yanks the door back, stepping so close I can smell the honey wash on her skin, the vanilla saturated in her silky brown locks.

“It’s funny, Griffin, how you act like you are so unsatisfied and fed up with your wife, yet you still can’t help but call her name.” Her eyes bore into mine as my heart sinks. “But who am I kidding, right?” She shrugs. “I know how men like you are. You get what you want and then forget, which is fine by me, but at least have the decency to say my name when I am the one you can’t keep your eyes or filthy hands off of. At least show some respect to the woman that has shown nothing but genuine respect for you.”

The seconds tick by, and with each of her words echoing through the hallway, I can’t help but feel a little awful about this. Her frustrations are clear to me now, her anger towards me for a solid purpose.

Now I see the damage I have caused. I hurt her feelings. What was I thinking?

I said Colette’s name while Angelina was sucking me off? Why would I do that? Why was I even thinking about Colette in that moment? How could I not realize that it was Angelina with me in the bed this morning, not Colette?

Angelina is right, but unfortunately I can’t allow her to know that. I can’t because we are, business associates, and I made it clear last night that I am still a married man and that we are only doing one thing: fucking.

I hate that I have to be the one to burst her bubble, but…

“I’m sorry, if I offended you, Angelina,” I start, looking her straight in those upset blue eyes. “That wasn’t my objective. Really.” My face solidifies, eyes going hard. “But that is all I will apologize for. You will have to get over it, regardless, because next week we will have a lot of work to do and the future is much more important than me making a minor name mistake.”

Her mouth gapes, a horrid look of disbelief masking her face. I expect her to say something, but she doesn’t. She only gapes—only hates me a tad bit more.

“I suggest one thing to get past this, Angelina: We promise never to let it happen again. That way I can never offend or belittle your ego and you can be happy with our business relationship.” I study her with absent eyes.

I feel fucked-up for saying this, but it’s true. We can’t. It was wrong from the start. It wasn’t even supposed to happen. But, despite my guilt, I remain firm. I don’t leave her much time to respond—to sponge it and grasp what I’m saying.

She’s a smart girl. She’ll figure it out. I turn and sigh as I murmur over my shoulder, “I’ll see you again, I’m sure, Miss Clark. Have a safe flight home.”

As I head back to my room I don’t look back. Every single fiber within me that longs for that woman wants me to turn back and look at her, satisfy her, and call bullshit on my statement, but I can’t. My brain wins. And fortunately I don’t.

I hate how we leave off like this—upset, unfulfilled, and partially undesired. Her smart remarks and pouty faces made me want to fuck her against the nearest wall inside her room and demand that she accept my apology.

And the truth is she would because she loves my cock. She loved the experience we shared together last night, how I rocked her body from head to toe, dominating what she claimed couldn’t be owned?

Pshh. Like I said, I proved that theory to be untrue.

Why else is she getting so crazy on me now about a mistake? I can’t help that Colette’s name was on my mind or even on the tip of my tongue. She always is, and most times it’s not in the best or positive of ways.

I can tell you one thing.

Pussy is a powerful thing, but a man’s dick can hold just as much power. It can change a woman overnight, make her feel and say shit that she never thought she’d feel or say.

There are consequences when a dragon slays a young kitty with all of its’ wrath and pent-up flames. In the end, who comes out on top?

The poor kitty can’t stand a chance. Why do you think all of the fairytales warn you of the danger of the dragon? They warn you because they are strong, wild, dominant, voracious, and intimidating.

They have the power to corrupt or destroy you if you allow them.

Perhaps Angelina and her kitty didn’t bring a shield and sword to this battle. Perhaps her pink kitty thought she could tame my ruthless, malicious dragon.

Well, either way, she thought wrong and I feel terrible for putting a woman like her through it, but I can’t take it back now. There is a lot on the line—too much at risk.

I can’t bring myself down.

Not when my life has finally been deemed successful.

TWELVE

Angelina

I watch Griffin walk away without looking back even once and I feel so fucking stupid. So idiotic.

What was I thinking?! Sleeping with Griffin Boyd out of everyone I could have shared my body with—like, I don’t know, someone single!

When he’s in his room, I rush back into mine, slamming the door behind me and marching for my things. I pack it all up except the outfit I’m wearing today. When I’m dressed and all set to go, I bustle out of my room.

I need to get the hell out of here. I don’t care where I go, I just can’t be here. I’ll sit at the airport and wait if I have to. I can work to pass time.

Three hours wait, no big deal, right? It doesn’t matter. Anything beats being under the same roof as that asshole.

As I hit the down button for the elevator, I hear the sound of a door shutting to the right of me and see Griffin walking down the hall with his suitcase on its wheels.

I shake my head, focusing on the silver doors in front of me again.

“Oh, God. Here we go,” I mutter beneath my breath.

His throat clears quietly as he meets at my side and waits for the elevator as well.

When the doors finally draw open I can’t help but feel relief… that is until I remember he has to ride down with me too.

I step to the far right corner after pushing the button for the lobby and Griffin goes into the opposite corner of me, pulling out his cellphone and scrolling through it.

The floors seem to go by so slowly, each number dragging by as it decreases. I sigh, and when I feel Griffin’s eyes on me, I purposely ignore the weight of them.

Exasperated, he asks, “How long are we going to do this, Angel?”

“Don’t call me that,” I mutter. So much for ignoring him.

“But I like it.” He steps ahead, getting closer to me. “It fits you.”

My head lifts and a subtle smirk is on his lips. I want to slap it right off. “Dick,” I mutter under my breath.

“What’s that?”

“You are a dick, Griffin. That’s what.”

“Have we resorted to name calling now?”

I roll my eyes, arms folding.

“If so, then I will continue to call you my Angel.”

“Yeah, have fun with that.”

Finally, the elevator dings and I gather the handles of my bags when the doors draw open, marching through the lobby in six-inch heels. A heavy sigh of irritation sounds behind me, but I don’t look back.

Instead, I make a line to the front desk and turn in my key. After checking out and thanking the clerk, I turn around, bumping right into a broad chest.

Without looking up, I know who it is by his piney scent, the sweetness on his skin. I hate that I’m so familiar with it.

I look up, and Griffin is looking down at me, his eyes piercing mine, hands on the tops of my arms. He holds me steady, but I shrug out of his grip almost immediately.

I try to walk around him, moving left and then right, but each time he steps in my way, playing a silly game that I really don’t have time for.

“Griffin, please,” I mutter. “I need to get to the airport.”

“You have plenty of time. Just hear me out, Angelina.” His eyes are stern, mouth fixing in a way that makes me want to kiss it. Those damn lips. “I didn’t mean what I said up there—”

“Yes you did.” I cut him off. “You did. And you are right. We do have business to take care of so let’s focus on that.”

One of his brows peaks. “You’re not upset?”

“Of course not.” I force a smile, tucking my hair behind my ear and dropping my gaze. Taking a step aside, I sigh and look towards the exit glass doors. “Listen, Griff, what happened last night was just a spur of the moment thing. It happened, we got it out of our systems, and now we can focus on our work again. Okay? Isn’t that what you want?”

He blinks a few times before responding. He isn’t pleased with that. Oh, well. Who cares?

“Okay,” he says, clearly disappointed.

I cap his shoulder and walk around him. Stepping through the glass turnstile door, I walk towards the curb and hail down a cab. One finally stops after I’ve waved my arm like a madwoman, basically stepping into the street just to catch its attention.

I grip the door handle and toss my bags inside, but just as I start to slide in, a hand grabs my arm.

With a quick frown smothering my face, I spin around, and when my eyes meet a familiar sparkly brown, I sigh.

“Griffin, what?” I ask. God, why can’t he just let this go?

With his hands at my waist, his full lips parted, and eyes locking on mine, I realize exactly what is about to happen.

He can’t let it go. He won’t let me go like this, so frustrated and disappointed.

One of his hands pulls from my waist to cup one of my cheeks. His touch is smooth and callous-free. It’s gentle and it pulls at my heartstrings.

“We can’t leave off like this, Angelina. I can’t. I offended you, and I’m sorry.” Told you. His lips twist. “Colette… well, I can’t lie to you and say she doesn’t cross my mind from time to time because she does.”

My heart sinks when he says her name again. I tear my gaze away. “I know.”

“Hey! Are we leaving or what!?” A thick accent sounds behind me and I glance back at the driver.

“Yeah! Just give me a second!”

My eyes return to Griffin’s. His are soft, worry-free. Shouldn’t mine be the same?

“She is my wife, Angel. But I promise you right now that I will never call her name while I’m with you again.”

I swallow hard and my face softens up. He spots the transition in my attitude because his face lightens up, brown eyes sparking.

“So… what does that mean? That we’ll be doing this again?” I point between us as he releases my face.

His hold is still on my waist, and his right cheek tugs upward, lips curling. “I don’t exactly want things to change between us right now. Believe it or not, I could use you with business… and personal things.”

I battle a grin, looking away. “Don’t just say that, Griffin. I don’t need you feeling guilty later just because you’re trying to make me feel better now.” I pause for a brief moment, looking him over. “Do you even feel guilty… about what happened?” I question.

His mouth twitches. “Honestly… I don’t feel a damn thing.” He laughs dryly. “How wrong is that?”

“I feel terrible,” I whisper, dropping my head. “I put you in a sticky situation.”

He tilts my chin back up, head shaking. “Don’t do that. It’s me who put you in this situation, Angelina.” I start to look away but he catches my eyes again. “Hey. Look at me,” he murmurs. “I’m okay. We’re okay. If you’re worried someone will find out, then don’t be. The only way they will know is if we say it out loud… and that, I’m sure, will never happen.”

“I just hate the fact that you carry baggage, Griffin. If you are so unhappy with her, why not call it quits?”

His face changes, a slight frown now present. “Because it’s not that simple with her and me, Angelina.”

I narrow my brows. “What do you mean?”

“It’s… a lot to explain.” He releases me, inhaling through his nose and exhaling through his mouth.

He takes a look around the busy street, squinting his eyes when he looks to his left. I wish he’d go into further detail, but I know he won’t.

“This won’t happen much,” I say. “Because even though you aren’t happy, you are still married and I am not playing anyone’s mistress.”

He looks down at me and pitches a laugh, sticking his hands into his front pockets. “You are no one’s mistress, Angel. You’re too good for that.” He leans in to kiss my cheek and I swear I tingle from head to toe, fire tunneling through my veins.

I don’t get it.

I don’t understand how I can be so angry with him one second, but within the next I want him to rip my clothes off and take me on the backseat of a crummy taxi. I don’t care if the driver or the entire city watches, just as long as Boyd is on top of me, pleasing me in every way.

Gosh, I’m so backwards.

I ignore my childish thoughts and return a peck on his cheek. Then I turn for the cab and duck in, shutting the door behind me but rolling the window down as Griffin backs away to stand on the curb.

“I’m keeping you to that promise, Mr. Boyd.”

He crosses his heart and kisses his fingers. “I am a man of my word, Miss Clark. Talk to you soon?”

I smile through the window. “Yeah, soon.”

We hold gazes, and as each millisecond ticks by, Griffin’s smile slowly slips from his lips.

With haste, he strides towards the cab again, bends down, ducks his head in, and kisses me right there.

Right through the open window.

Right in a cab that smells like mothballs and Indian cuisine.

I gasp at first, not expecting it at all, but then I melt and sigh, my hand reaching up to trace his chiseled jaw, gluing him closer.

I hear the cab driver agitatedly groan and smack his teeth in the front seat, but I don’t care. He’s not ruining this moment for me.

Griffin’s tongue coils with mine effortlessly.

Smoothly.

He tastes like orange juice and syrup. Someone called room service this morning.

I smile behind the kiss, my core aching as he groans.

When the kiss is finally broken, he focuses on my eyes, lips raw and wet. I smile up at him, lean in once more, and kiss him gently.

My lips flatten on top of his and then I bite his bottom lip gently. When I pull away he moans with defeat, almost like he wants to drag me back up into the hotel room and never let me go.

Hell, that’s what I want too.

I’m clenching like hell, so I know he’s throbbing in his pants like a splitting headache.

“Later, Boyd,” I whisper, our lips so close they still feel connected.

My eyes point down to his full mouth as his focuses on mine, and with a deep, soulful voice, Griffin says, “Have a safe flight home, Angel.”