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But Marika makes me feel like a fucking teenager again, like I can not only keep going again and again, but I have to hold onto my orgasm like one, like I’m going to come too fast, too soon. I’ve never felt anything better than what it feels like to be inside of her.
I’m damn sure that I never will.
I feel her hips jerk and shudder, feel her clit twitch beneath my fingers, and then I canfeelher coming, feel her pussy tightening and rippling along the rock-hard length of my cock. I think I’m going to lose my mind from the pleasure, that nothing has ever felt this good, and nothing ever will again. I thrust up into her, hard, feeling her orgasm as I hear her moan, rising in pitch until I’m sure everyone on the goddamn plane can hear her, and I hope they can. The thought makes me throb inside of her, thrusting hard as I hold her down on my cock, grinding every last bit of pleasure I can out of her before I fill her up with my own cum.
“Theo—”
Her gasping my name is my undoing. I’m beginning to find out that nothing makes me come like hearing that, her sweet voice with its faint accent moaning my name. I feel myself go harder still inside of her, my hands on her ass as I drag her down hard onto my cock.
“I’m going to come,” I groan into her ear, my teeth nipping at the lobe. “I’m going to fill you up,cailín deas, right here, where anyone can see; I’m going to fucking come—”
Marika moans, her back arching deeply as she thrusts herself down onto me, her nails digging into my shoulders through the fabric of my shirt, and it only makes everything feel more intense, the throbbing of my cock inside of her tight heat, the way she’s still fluttering around me from her own orgasm, the sheer pleasure of it as I fuck myself into her hard, my cock exploding as my head falls back and I feel Marika’s mouth against my throat, her lips grazing over my skin, and for a moment it feels as if I’m never going to stop coming.
And at that moment, as I’m coming hard inside of my wife, I have the distinct feeling that we’re being watched.
I hold onto her for a long moment, my fingers still digging into her ass, trying to relearn how to breathe. I’m still throbbing inside of her, and I can feel the wet mess that we’ve made of each other, doubtless something I’m going to have to clean up after this. But for her—
Carefully, I guide her off of me, pulling her panties back into place as I press my hand against her. “You’re going to stay full of my cum until we land,” I murmur against her mouth. “I want to sit here for the rest of the flight, thinking about my cum dripping out between your thighs, howsoakedthose panties will be. Can you do that for me?”
Marika nods wordlessly, and I stand up, helping her back to her seat as she sits down weakly, tucking the blanket back around her legs. She looks flushed, her hair loose around her face, and anyone looking at her would know that she’s just been well-fucked.
I turn around to go back to my seat—and I see the man standing at the end of the aisle. I have that feeling again—that I was being watched, and I feel instinctively that it was him…that he saw all of it. There’s something in his blue eyes that’s sharp and curious—a little angry, too.
He’s not someone I recognize.He must be from Nikolai’s security, I think as I sit back down, ignoring him. I’m not angry that he saw—I enjoyed the idea of us being watched, even if it’s less appealing now that I’ve come. But something about the look on his face unsettled me—the anger in it.
I can’t think of any reason why seeing me withmywife would anger him—unless he wants her, andthatthought sends a spiraling rage through me that burns so hot I see red. That thought fills my head again—mine.
Marika is mine. But if this man desires her—it doesn’t matter. From everything I can tell, whether she expected to or not, she wants me as much as I want her.
The thought eases the flush of rage, and I settle back into my own seat, ignoring the man. He means nothing to either one of us—it doesn’t matter if he’s irritated by the sight. Now that I’ve calmed down a little, I can think of other reasons why it might have angered him—he might have thought it was inappropriate or disliked having to hear us, or even jealousy that has nothing to do with wanting Marika and everything to do with wanting a woman who would let me do the things I just did to Marika.
I tell myself, as I look over to where she’s started to fall asleep, curled up beneath the cashmere throw blanket, that it doesn’t matter. Soon, we’ll be in Dublin, and I’ll be on a honeymoon with my new, beautiful bride.
I’m not going to allow anything to ruin that.
—
There’s a car waiting for us on the tarmac when we arrive. Our luggage is already being loaded into it, and I lead Marika down the steps of the plane and to the waiting car. It would be about three a.m. back in Chicago, which means it’s nine in the morning, and the sun is up here, and Marika peers up at the sky with a jaw-cracking yawn.
“The jet lag will get to you,” I tell her sympathetically. “If you can stay awake until tonight, do. It will help reset your clock. I know it’s not easy, but I recommend at least trying to stay awake until the afternoon at the very least, when you might usually take a nap. Otherwise, it’s going to be very difficult to get on a normal sleep schedule while we’re here. And,” I add, giving her a wink as I put my hand on the small of her back and guide her towards the waiting car, “I’m happy to oblige if you need something to keep you awake.”
Marika looks at me, not realizing what I mean for a moment before her eyes widen, and her mouth rounds in a softoh, before she blushes. I find I like the way her cheeks turn pink; it makes me want to take her face in my hands and feel the heat there, kissing her until she blushes even deeper.
I’m falling for my wife.The realization doesn’t unsettle me as much as I once might have thought it would. I’d always thought of love as something to avoid if possible, as most men in my world do. Love makes you vulnerable, weak, even—susceptible to the whims of another person, and open to someone being used against you to cause pain. Love is a distraction.
But with Marika, I can see the possibility of it being something else—a means to a future that I hadn’t imagined would still be possible for me.
“Are we going to a hotel?” she asks as the car pulls away from the tarmac, and I shake my head.
“You’ll see,” I tell her, reaching for her hand where it’s resting on the leather seat between us. I feel her tense a little, but she doesn’t pull away.
I can imagine, if she has any feelings for me, that it’s as unexpected as mine are for her. I want to give her time—to not rush her. I don’t want her to feel that I’m pushing her into anything.
We have time. I’m in no hurry to do anything other than enjoy her.
I’m looking forward to the expression on her face when she sees the house—I’m rewarded in spades when the car reaches the end of the driveway that winds through the green and hilly landscape, and Marika sees the house rising up at the end of the gravel drive. It’s a grey stone manor, surrounded by lush green landscaping and an old fountain in the courtyard in front of it, and her mouth drops open a little as she stares out of the window.
“It’s like a picture,” she says finally, her eyes round. “Like something out of a movie. It’s gorgeous.”
