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“God, Violet, you feel fucking amazing.”
“I do?”
“You’re perfect. Perfect for me.”
My dick swells in her pussy, and I stay there, sheathed in paradise, feeling and filling her.
I take her two more times, which doesn’t do much to satiate my bottomless need for her. And she sleeps for the rest of the flight. I can’t wait to shed my public persona and enjoy our trip.
When we land in Seoul, I wake her up with kisses as I carry her from the jet to the car.
She leans on my shoulder, watching the city go by. The metropolis is bursting with life and sounds. Skyscrapers and temples, creating an incredible mix of past and present.
We reach our skyscraper, and her eyes widen. The Syndicate has properties all over the world. This penthouse is one of them. The butler greets us, taking the luggage out of the trunk.
Inside, she sweeps her eyes around, from the marble floor to crystal chandeliers dipping low, modernly decorated in black with golden accents with a spectacular view over the city.
“Wow, this place is beautiful.”
I lean on the wall. Her eyes take in the living room, a big space with dark floors, black furniture, and a fireplace. A garden stretches through a wall-sized glass window. In the center sits a fountain. All this in the middle of a city, away from prying eyes.
She turns to me, eyes glistening, and then she runs to me, jumping in my arms. Catching her, I sway her around.
“I always wanted to visit Seoul.”
“We’ll visit the world, my darling,” I vow.
“Is this our honeymoon?”
“No, this is just a small preview.”
She crashes her lips on mine, and everything else dissipates.
***
Over the next three days, we explore Seoul, strolling through the street markets and visiting temples and famous tourist spots. It’s a vibrant and eclectic city where pop culture collides with the tranquillity of Buddhism.
Violet takes everything in with eyes full of wonder, gesticulating animatedly, and reminding me of the places we still have to visit. I couldn’t care less where we are or what we’re doing next, as long as I am with her. Everything’s better with her. I’m pretty sure what I feel for her is love—a wondrous, deep, overwhelming, terrifying, and all-encompassing feeling.
I am in love with my wife.
Back at the penthouse, she’s lying naked on the king-sized bed, eating chocolate and watching a K-Drama. To see her like this—so damn beautiful and content invigorates me.
Feeling my gaze on her, the corners of her lips tip up and she turns off the TV.
She picks another chocolate from the box next to her, moaning as she bites into it.
“Is it that good, love?”
She nods, teeth jamming into her lower lip.
“I want to taste it too. Crawl to me.”
Shifting to her hands and knees, she comes to me on her palms and knees. The chocolate melts, coating her lips and the corners of her mouth. I wait for her at the foot of the bed, my muscles straining with impatience as I admire my woman on all fours for me.
When she’s within touching distance, I wrap my hand in her hair, bending her back.
“You’re such a dirty girl. Look at the mess you made.”
