Where Can I Read Flight Patterns Online For Free?

Escaping from her abusive husband with nothing but the clothes on her back, a beaten and bruised Laura shows up on the doorstep of her estranged older brother - and President of a well-known motorcycle club, Jake Wilson. But before she can even make it into the house, she runs into a tall, dark, deep well of trouble - her brother's best friend and second in command, Talon Nash. *********** He stepped closer, closing the gap between us in one stride. His hands found my hips, pulling me into him with a firm but gentle grip. The sawdust clinging to his skin mingled with the scents of his sweat and cologne, and I breathed it in, reveling in it. “Your reward,” he murmured, his lips brushing against my ear, “is me not dragging you upstairs and ruining you right now in front of all these guys.” My breath hitched, and I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks, but I smirked. I wasn’t about to let him win this one. “No fair. That’s more of a punishment than a reward,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. “I want a refund.” “NOT getting f*cked in front of the prospects is a punishment?” He chuckled, a deep rumbling sound that vibrated through me. “Fine,” he added, his lips curling into a wicked grin. “Careful what you wish for, angel.” Before I could respond, he bent down and hoisted me up over his shoulder like a sack of flour. I let out a startled laugh, my hands instinctively gripping the back of his jeans. The prospects paused their work, watching with amused smirks as Talon carried me toward the stairs. “Talon!” I protested, though my laughter betrayed me. “Put me down!”

"Forty Flames" An erotic anthology of 40 scorching stories where desire ignites in the most unexpected places. From the quiet intensity of a late-night office confrontation between a demanding professor and his brilliant graduate student, to the charged silence of a stuck elevator, a storm-lashed lighthouse, and forbidden hotel rooms—each tale explores the raw, electric moment when restraint finally snaps. Whether it’s rivals turning lovers, age-gap temptations that refuse to be denied, best friends’ siblings crossing sacred lines, or carefully negotiated nights of dominance and surrender, these stories dive deep into the delicious friction between intellect and hunger, power and vulnerability, shame and need. Featuring blistering boy/girl encounters, passionate boy/boy connections, intoxicating girl/girl seductions, plus stories rich with age-gap tension, taboo longing, and explicit BDSM/kink dynamics, Forty Flames delivers a full spectrum of desire. Every story is packed with slow-burn sexual tension, sharp emotional insight, and scenes that will leave you breathless—intimate, consensual, and unapologetically hot. Step inside these pages and surrender to the kind of heat that rewrites the rules.

Brandon Smith has flown for eight years. I've been with him since the time he was an assistant pilot, all the way until he successfully rose to the ranks as the head pilot. In the year Brandon's busiest with his career, I resign from my job and begin cooking according to his aviation schedule. Just once, I bring up the question, "Can you please show me the sight of being thousands of feet in the air in the near future? Just once, please!" Brandon continues eating from his plate. "The plane is a workplace, not an amusement park for you." I reply, "Okay." Since then, I never bring up that matter in front of him. That is, until I find myself suffering from insomnia one night. That's when I accidentally come across an encrypted photo album tucked away in Brandon's phone. There are over 40 photos in the album, all from his perspective as a pilot. There are seas of clouds, sunsets, double rainbows after a downpour, as well as the Milky Way in the night sky when the plane is over thousands of feet in the sky. Every photo has been sent to the same person with a bear's emoji as their name. The latest photo is a photo of the beautiful evening colors from three days ago. Half of the sun can be seen in the clouds. The caption that comes with the photo says, "Today's sky is still beautiful as ever. When you come over next time, you can take the observation seat on the right. It gives you the best angle of the sky." The bear emoji person responds with a hugging emoji and a short sentence. "Wait for me to go on my break." I put Brandon's phone back where it belongs without changing the password and deleting the album. Once the morning sun is up, I brew myself some coffee as usual before finishing it quietly. Then, I turn on my computer and book myself a flight ticket to Dalco. It's been eight years. Finally, I don't have to chase after Brandon's flight routes and wait for his mealtimes. I no longer have to stay in an empty house while guessing which flight destination he's headed to right now. Since Brandon's sky refuses to tolerate my presence, I shall move my roots elsewhere and watch the sunset on my own.

On the flight home, the plane starts shaking violently. Certain I'm about to die, I call my husband, Rhys Callahan, to say my last words. He hangs up on me, and his auto-reply flashes on the screen. "Driving. On my way to pick up Daphne." I've taken 86 flights in our five years of marriage. Every time I'm about to land, I ask him to come get me, and every time, the answer is the same. "Daphne's getting in too. I have to pick her up." He picks up Daphne Langston all 86 times. The lowest point comes during a rainstorm. I drag my suitcase through the downpour outside the terminal for two hours, unable to get a ride. When I call him, Daphne's voice comes through, laughing. "Oh, Rhys is helping me with my luggage right now. He can't come to the phone." Now the cabin fills with screaming and sobbing. The plane spirals out of control at cruising altitude, the left wing shearing away as flames light up the windows. My phone buzzes with a message from him. "Just picked Daphne up. What time do you land? I'll come get you." I stare at the screen and let out a bitter laugh. After five years, he's finally offering to pick me up. But fire swallows the plane as it plunges toward the ground. He doesn't know I'm no longer coming home.

While packing Ethan's flight bag, I found a custom solo wings pin. The engraving on the back read: For Lark, to celebrate your first solo. Beneath the box sat the receipt for Skyler's flight school tuition, paid in full by Ethan, along with a photograph. In the photo, she was sitting in the pilot's seat. Ethan's gloved hand rested over hers on the control yoke. Seven years ago, I had sat in that same seat. Back then, I was one step away from my first solo flight, but Ethan talked me out of it again and again, always claiming it was "for my own good." He said flying was dangerous, that someone had to stay home and take care of things. I put down my logbook, pressed the wrinkles out of every one of his captain's uniforms, and spent seven years living by his flight schedule. Only now did I finally understand. It wasn't that he didn't want to take anyone flying. He just didn't want to take me. What made it even more absurd was that the night Skyler first flew through the clouds, I was alone in a hospital, losing our baby. I called him over a dozen times. At three in the morning, he finally called back, his voice flat and indifferent. "I just took Lark through the clouds. Next time something comes up, give me a heads-up." I put the wings pin back exactly where I found it, then pulled the crumpled ultrasound printout from the bottom of the drawer and tucked it inside the logbook that had been gathering dust for seven years. This time, I wasn't going to wait for him to look back. He convinced me to leave the pilot's seat, then turned around and put another woman in the sky. So I would leave him and take back the sky that had always been mine.

Holland, the Caribbean, England, France... Lively flight attendant Blair Ozkan was used to a busy life with adventures and many lush destinations. She was living her own dream when an accident with a cup of green coffee brought Commander Voitovich into her life, giving her world a new perspective. Dimitri is a handsome and fun-loving Russian who was unwilling to pass up any opportunity that life would give him, including the one that put the beautiful stewardess in his path. Between their routine encounters and mismatches, a beautiful friendship emerges, and against everything they believed in, the feeling begins to evolve into something more, confronting a conviction they both had in common: long distance relationships don't work. Is it possible to live a love amidst complex schedules and diverse destinies?