“Jokes aside, we can’t skip the honeymoon.” His smile turns crooked. “And this is our first wedding night.”
I swallow my excitement down, eager for him to keep talking. I like how raspy he sounds when he’s next to me. How his nostrils flare like he’s trying to catch my scent.
When his body pushes into me, I feel his already hard cock pressing into my belly. My face probably betrays surprise because he chuckles. “I was thinking about what I could do to you here.”
“What could you do?” I hear myself asking, even though my brain hasn’t authorized the question.
He brings his mouth to my ear. “Oh, I could start with this.” His hand pulls the hem of my shorts away and dives inside. His finger walks down, slowly. A tiny step after another. “And then do that.” His middle finger presses on my clit and then moves lower, dipping between my folds. “And then this.” He starts slowly pushing inside of me. “And that.” When his second finger joins the first one, I gasp from surprise. His fingers are thick, and they feel good when he starts moving them in and out, but they’re no replacement for his giant dick that made me feel all the feels at once.
“What else?” My voice is hoarse and dare I say seductive. Something I didn’t know I could do.
He likes it or the question because a short exhale blows into my ear, raising goosebumps all over my body.
“How about that?” He presses his thumb to my clit and starts making deliberately slow circles. His mouth lands under my ear and starts sucking on the sensitive skin.
I grab his shoulders with my hands for stability.
When his fingers dip awfully deep, my hips buckle to meet them, and I let out an embarrassing moan I try to suppress right away.
“Don’t.” His voice is husky. Impatient. Angry. “Don’t hold yourself back.”
“If I make a loud sound, everyone will hear.”
He brings his lips right to my ear and breathes out, “That was the plan.”
After that, his fingers intensify their attack. His thumb presses harder and harder. His mouth moves to mine, and he dives into the kiss without foreplay. His tongue is deep. Stroking. Moving. Fighting.
When the swirl in my belly reaches its limit, I let out a loud moan, and he takes it as a sign to continue with his current course of action. Moving his face away a little, he plants his other hand on my throat. My eyes flutter open. He puts some pressure into his hold. A little. To test me out. I love it. He knows it. He presses more. His fingers circle around my throat just as his thumb on my clit pushes even harder.
And I fall. I let out a silent scream.
Which turns out to be not so silent at all because his hand instantly moves from my throat to my mouth.
His low chuckle tells me all I need to know about the waiting embarrassment when I’ll be doing the walk of shame back to our seats.
When I’m done riding the waves of the high, he pulls his hand away and puts his fingers into his mouth. He closes his eyes, licking them clean.
I swallow, feeling my legs turn into jelly. Then he pushes his hand—the same one—inside his pants and adjusts his cock.
“Do you need help with that?” To my utter embarrassment, I swallow saliva again.
His laugh is low and tortured. “Not here.”
“How willyou?—”
“I’ll be fine.” He moves to the side. “Go, I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Okay,” I agree easily and try to squeeze past him to the door. It’s a tight fit, but I don’t complain.
When I emerge from the lavatory with a toiletry bag in my hands and messed up hair I totally forgot to fix, I get a glare from the flight attendant who’s sipping something from a can. Her eyes slowly move over me, and the corners of her lips go down.
I could let it slide. I really could. But I don’t want to.
“You were right,” I say with a smile.
“About?” she asks with a disinterested look on her face.
“This bathroom really is bigger,” I explain with a giggle and walk to my seat.
