Page 12 of Marrying the Silver Fox

Shit, really, I should be—back in my apartment, going over the details of the day, wondering if there was anything I could have done better. But instead I’m standing here in front of the man who was meant to be the groom to someone else entirely, touching myself right in front of him, getting off in front of a man who was supposed to be someone else’s husband…

He watches me touch myself, gaze lingering on my fingers for a moment before his eyes flick back up to my face, taking in the way I react to every moment as though committing it to memory. My breath is starting to come harder and faster now, catching at the back of my throat, and I want nothing more than to get lost to this feeling entirely—to let it rush over me, the heat, the need, the sureness of how badly he wants me to put on a show for him.

My fingers circle my clit, and my other hand moves to my breast, fingers skimming over the nipple that he had in his mouth like I can almost mimic the way it feels with a single touch.

“You look so fucking gorgeous like that,” he tells me, voice soft, laced with pure lust.

I moan in response, the ability to speak forgotten as my fingers coax me closer and closer toward my release. I can feel him staring at me, and it feels like a goddamn laser beam straight into the very center of my being, pushing me to a boiling point. I can see the outline of his cock pressed against his pants, a sure sign that he’s enjoying this as much as I am, and he reaches down to adjust himself slightly, already achingly hard, but eager to watch me go a little longer.

My thighs clench around my hand, and that seems to bring him back to reality, as he remembers exactly what he wants from me. He reaches out to catch my hand, bringing it to his own mouth so he can taste my wetness on my fingers. A surge of arousal courses through me as I feel his teeth grazing against my fingertips.

This man, the way he touches me, it’s unlike anything I have experienced before, and I can’t do anything but crave more, more, more. I want to find out how far he’s willing to take this—to see what he truly desires from me, how exactly he intends to make me his.

He looks up at me, a dark lust flashing in his gaze, before he reaches up to pull me onto his lap again. But this time, he makes sure I’m facing away from him, his hands roaming all over my body as he pulls my back flush with his chest. I can feel his cock pressing against me and I grind back into it greedily, needing more, needing to get off more than anything in the world.

I know, against my better judgment, that there’s almost nothing I wouldn’t do if he commanded me to right now. I have already overstepped so many of my boundaries with this man, and I should know better than to let it go any further than it already has, but I don’t care.

When it feels this fucking good, I will give him anything.

He reaches down to unzip his pants, drawing his cock into his hand. The way I’m sitting, he’s already nudging against my slit as it is, and I whimper as I feel him press against my entrance.

“You want this inside you?”

I nod.

“Say it,” he insists, grazing his lips across my ear so I can feel the words as well as hear them. “Say how much you want this, Andie. Let me hear it…”

I groan, head tipping back against the soft leather, my mind whirring along with the sound of the engines beneath me. I can barely think straight, let alone long enough to get the words out, but I can tell he’s not going to give me what I want unless I come out with it. I gather every bit of my good sense that still remains—though I know I’m already running dangerously short on that—and finally speak.

“I want you inside me…”

And with that, he gives me what I’m begging for. He grasps my hips and flexes up and into me as he pulls me down on top of him, filling me in one motion. I cry out, and he kisses my neck. I can feel him grinning against my skin, like he loves the way I give in to him so helplessly.

“Let me hear you,” he rasps against my ear. “Let me hear how much you want this, Andie.”

I gasp again as he slides his hand down to my mound, kneading there for a moment, brushing his fingers across my pubic hair before he dips them between my legs to find my clit. He mimics the motions of my own hand on my pussy, and it strikes me that this is exactly why he asked me to give him a show before. Not just to turn him on, but because he wanted to know exactly what it would take to get me off.

I sink back into him, hips rising and falling against his cock as I let him do what he wants to me. He splays one hand on my lower belly to keep me in place as he pistons himself in and out of me, driving himself so deep it feels like our bodies have been made to fit together like this. The lewd sounds of our bodies coming together fill the small space of the cabin, and I reach back to cradle his head, my chest stuttering as I try to catch my breath.

“Fuck,” I whimper, and he catches my earlobe between his teeth, tugging on it firmly enough to make my head spin.

“You like that?” he murmurs, and I can only nod in response.

Words have failed me. Nothing comes close to expressing the depth of everything I’m feeling right now. It’s a pleasure beyond what I thought I was capable of, a white-hot, scorching sensation that feels as though it’s going to cut through every part of me and leave me with nothing left to cling to. I can hardly stand it, in the best way possible, my orgasm building fast as he moves his fingers against my clit and thrusts deep inside of me, whispering encouragement to me like there’s nothing he wants to see more than me coming on top of him.

I’m not sure how long we stay like that, our bodies intertwined so deeply, his hands all over me—moving to my thighs, my breasts, my belly, feeling me like he’s reminding himself of everything that he has made his.

I’m helpless to resist him. Helpless to even come close.

I want him, I want more, more than I’m certain I can take. I want something to wipe clean all the doubts I’ve about what the fuck I’m doing here with him right now, to let myself give in to the way he makes me feel…

My thighs are quivering on either side of him, jaw clenched as I rush toward my release—and then, finally, I feel it, the sudden, coursing shock of my orgasm. I cry out so loudly I’m sure there’s not a person on this plane who can’t hear what the two of us are up to, but I don’t give a damn. Let them hear every moment of it. Because right now, this man is my husband and I am his wife and I don’t think there’s anything else that can even come close to mattering.

My pussy squeezes around him as I still on top of him, hips trembling as my body writhes on top of his. He wraps his arms around me, pinning me in place as he continues to piston himself deep within me over and over again. My ears are ringing, but I can hear the grunt of his breath against my neck as he brings himself to his own release while he’s buried deep inside of me. The flood of his seed, the warmth of it, shocks through me like energy unleashed—like something I can’t control, even if I wanted to, which I don’t.

I shudder one last time in his arms and then slump back against him, breathing hard, my nerve endings still tingling from the intensity of the pleasure he just gave to me.

He makes no move to pull back, working his cock up and down inside me a few more times—like he wants to make sure that he has well and truly filled me with every drop of his seed before he’s done.