Page 10 of Whispers of Torment

He tongued her harder, lapping from hole to nub, but his finger grew still, applying the barest pressure. Her hips rose and fell. The breeze through the double doors washed over her nude form and heightened her pleasure. The soft feel of his hair on her thighs drove her to the brink.

His finger began to thrust, plunging into her center, stroking her inner walls. A burning heat enveloped her. Her breath caught and held as he drove her higher. Her pussy began to contract, pulsing softly at first and then clenching hard. Her muscles contracted around his finger, quaked against his mouth. A soft scream tore from her chest and a hot flush washed over her.

John continued to stroke her, extending her pleasure. His mouth softened as her orgasm ebbed away. She grew boneless. He lifted his face, beard and lips glistening with her cream.

“I need more.” She gripped his biceps and guided him up the length of her body. She found his mouth and tasted her own juices. Her tongue swirled around his and made him moan. She fumbled with his fly. The tip of one finger dipped into the waist of his briefs, caressing the spongy head of his cock. She smeared the drop of precum, withdrew her finger and brought it to her mouth.

He held her gaze at she enjoyed his flavor, salty-sweet and delicious. She tore off his shirt and tossed it aside. Her palms skimmed his hard pec muscles, feeling his nipples like two jewels set in the mat of curly hair.

Next she slid his pants and briefs down his hips. He kicked his legs free, hovering at her heated core. His thick shaft nudged the entrance to her pussy. She hooked her heel around his hip and drew him in with a quick jerk.

His cock buried deep inside her. A grunt of satisfaction vibrated against her throat. He kissed a trail back to her mouth, and then he began to move. She met his thrusts, forcing him harder and deeper, desperate for him to fill her. Desperate for him to drive away the image of the blond man. Desperate for him to consume her the way he had always done.

He fingered the tattoo on her spine and their passions flowed between this intimate link. The shocking sensation spurred them higher, up the slippery slope of newfound need. The slick walls of her pussy hugged his long shaft tight. The pleasure-burn deep in her core combusted, blossomed, and her pussy contracted around him. He locked her against him with a cry as his orgasm swept through him.

Lillian clung to John, her mouth wild against his throat, jaw and up to his ear. She gently ground the sensitive lobe between her front teeth, making him shiver. As the pleasant heaviness of release washed over them, a new set of images flashed through her mind.

Tumbling onto the feather mattress. Long, elegant fingers sprinkled with golden hair burning a trace on her inner thigh.

Her chest throbbed as if she’d been stabbed. She pressed a palm to it and tried to staunch the flow of blood.

Oh, John, I’m sorry. I don’t know what this is or how to stop it.

* * *

The man in row two looked up from his laptop and into Lillian’s eyes as she eased past his knees and into the window seat of the jet. While she settled into the seat, a grunt sounded, and she looked up in time to catch John staring down the passenger.

She tugged John’s hand and forced him down beside her. His forearm muscles were tense and his fist clenched. She put her mouth to his ear. “What is that about?”

He passed her a book, but did not reply.

Minutes after takeoff, she became aware of John’s restless movements. She was unable to see his face, but the passenger next to him wore a mottled blush. A lifetime of soldiering meant John could easily intimidate anyone. This businessman was no match for his menace. But that was the problem. In over six decades together, Lillian had never seen John use such tactics.

“You got a problem?” he asked his neighbor.

The man attempted to shift away by moving his legs into the aisle. When the drink cart slammed into his shins, he shot to his feet and demanded the flight attendant assign him a new seat. Since the flight was booked full, the man had to keep his seat beside John.

Lillian put her mouth to his ear. “Why are you doing this?”

“He’s got a case of the wandering eye.” His tone was soft…deadly.

Her stomach flipped over.

He knew.

He sensed her preoccupation with the blond man of her dream. As she thought of that man, she drowned in new visions of golden limbs and firelight throwing shadows over his nude body. She could nearly taste the sweat dampening his carved ab muscles and the hollow that cradled his long, thick erection.

She dug her fingers into the hair at her temples, struggling to emerge from these hallucinations. Her mind was out of control, and her body was following. She didn’t want her nipples to pinch into tight nubs or instant wetness to pool between her thighs. I have John, she thought, fighting against the sting of tears. He knows what’s going on.

“Don’t worry about it, John,” she whispered directly into his ear. “It’s happened before.”

His teeth gnashed. “I’m putting an end to it.”

The man at his elbow jerked. He straightened with a glare. “Sounds good. Meet me at the gate.”

John swelled at the challenge. “You got it.”

As the plane began to descend, her knee bounced and her gaze ricocheted between her usually placid spouse and the man seated next to him. By the time they reached the ground, she writhed with nerves. Her stomach was a sick twist of dread.

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