Page 80 of Where Quiet Hearts Scream
To my relief, the flight attendant walks over with two flutes of champagne.
“The vintage you requested,” she says, smiling at Andreas.
We each take a glass then Andreas looks deep into my eyes. “To you, Sera.”
My eyelids ping open, surprised at how romantic my husband is turning out to be. I shake my head and glance up at him through shy lashes, then take a sip.
The bubbles are crisp and creamy at the same time, and my mouth fills with the flavors of white peach and brioche. It tastes exceedingly expensive and I could definitely get used to it. But I’m going to need several cases to make up for the fact I no longer have a career or a life of my own.
“You don’t like it?”
I glance sideways at Andreas and he’s observing me closely. My thoughts have drawn my brows together. “Oh, no, it’s delicious. I love it.”
He nods to my seatbelt, indicating it’s time to buckle up. “We can get up again when we’re in the air,” he says.
My poor bottom lip gets a good chewing as the plane’s engines fire up and we taxi to the runway. Andreas takes my hand and rubs his thumb back and forth over it in an attempt to distract me from imminent death heading our way.
As we soar into the air, a new sensation comes over me. Now the ground is behind us, I don’t feel afraid. It’s almost as if my life is in the hands of the devil now and I have no control over what is to come, so I may as well appreciate it for what it is.
When the aircraft finally plateaus, without any warning, Andreas snaps open his seatbelt and mine, then pulls me onto his lap. My thighs have to part wide to accommodate his thick thighs, and my dress rides all the way up to my hips. The entire move swipes the breath from my lungs. When I peer down at him, the look in his eye is both devious and ravenous.
Before I get a chance to speak, he shoves a hand up through my hair and pulls my mouth down onto his for a deep, wet, restless kiss.
His tongue pushes into my mouth with a groan and sweeps into every corner, exploring me and igniting a multitude of nerve endings.
It’s hot, it’s impatient, and it’s staggering.
His other hand splays across the small of my back, tugging me into his body. When my knees hit the back of his seat, my legs spread even wider, until I feel his thickened cock press hard between my thighs.
Somewhere in the back of my mind I wonder where the flight attendant is but she must know to make herself scarce. If the last few weeks have taught me anything, it’s that my husband doesn’t like to share, so I expect the attendant is otherwise occupied because Andreas doesn’t seem at all concerned. Especially now I’m practically dry-humping him through his slacks.
He pulls back from my lips for a second. “Pick one,” he says on a fractured moan, then fastens his mouth again to mine.
With my eyes closed blissfully, I run my fingers over my thigh until they land on a scar I haven’t yet loved.
“There,” I breathe.
He leans back again, his lips falling away, and studies the raised scar tissue. He traces it with his finger. I should be leaping off his lap at the tickling sensation but I’m mesmerized. He seems completely absorbed in the mess I’ve made and it fills me half with shame and half with red hot desire.
He licks his lips and looks up at me through thick, long lashes. “I want you across my knee.”
My lips part in shock.
“I’m not going to spank you.” His voice rumbles solow it could be buried deep in the earth, and I release a breath. “Not yet, anyway.”
I swallow and he jerks his chin, encouraging me to move. I dismount my husband, stand at his knees, then look to him for direction.
“I want you facing out of the window. Here…” He guides me to his right side, places a hand on my shoulder and pushes me almost to my knees. Then, he bends me over his lap until my stomach lies flat, my breasts fall over his thigh and my bottom is canted out.
He strokes a hand over both of my ass cheeks, taking a lazy, long time about it. Every now and then, his fingertips skim my pussy and I squirm on his legs.
“How do you feel about flying now?” he rasps above me.
“It’s not so bad,” I whisper.
“Good. Enjoy this, Sera.”
He tickles his fingertips over my clit and I push down onto them, trying to get some friction, but he just moves his fingers backward until they’re almost skimming another opening. I blush heinously.
