Chapter Fourteen

Rose

It’s harder to leave the island than I thought it would be, and I regret being so timid when we first arrived and wasting a whole day and a half on prudence. I think I made up for that, though, and Stuart insists on accompanying me home on my Delta flight.

“Don’t you have your own jets and pilots and stuff?” I wonder.

“I do but I don’t always use them, you know. I can get a flight on charter to the mainland, and we can head back to New York from there, right?”

“That’s right,” I agree, dazzled by what a frugal billionaire he is.

“That’s how you keep it in the billions,” he says with a wink. “Don’t get wasteful.”

I suspect that he’s really trying to impress me and doesn’t want me on that Delta flight unguarded. In spite of how he enjoyed showing me off at the party, his territorial nature is obvious in every gesture of his body. His arm is always around my shoulder or my waist, his hand in mine or beneath my chin... but I like it.

I want the world to know that I’m his and he’s mine. I love this ring. Fuck, I do want to be his wife.

We board the packed Delta flight and are upgraded to first class as soon as someone recognizes Stuart’s name. I want to resist but the seats would be open anyway, they say, and it is so much more spacious in first class.

“Let’s,” Stuart rumbles against my ear, and my knees go weak. Let’s.

The first half an hour of the flight is spent just settling in, ordering our future meals and requesting a little champagne. Stuart gets a warm towel and I need a blanket, because this airplane is, in my opinion, frigid. The stewardess bustles, getting us everything we need, and I realize that I want a warm towel, too, when I see what Stuart does with it. Genius.

When we return the warm towels to the stewardess, we both settle down into our quilt and I cuddle under Stuart’s arm. After such a wild weekend, I might have thought that I’d be a wreck... but I’m not. I feel great.

“I’m bored,” Stuart complains beside me, and I lift my eyebrows slightly.

“There’s movies,” I suggest, gesturing to the little screen embedded into the seat in front of us. “There’s the in-flight rad—”

I hesitate and my cheeks flame as Stuart’s strong hand works its way up my thigh beneath the blanket.

Doing it in public on Mystique Island was one thing...

But here? In the first-class cabin on a Delta flight?

“Yeah,” Stuart breathes against my ear, as if he can hear my thoughts. “I have an idea. It’s the perfect cure for boredom, and it will... alleviate the both of us.”

I can’t deny the tingling between my legs, and I slant my eyes over to Stuart. “What kind of idea?” I whisper, knowing perfectly well what kind of idea he has. His dick pitches a tent with this quilt!

“I want you to touch yourself,” he commands, settling away from me. “I’m going to watch. If you don’t want to give yourself away—” He places a finger over his lips in the symbol for silence but his dark gray eyes gleam at me conspiratorially. His dick twitches between us. “You’d better not move or make a sound.”

I nod and slip my hand beneath the quilt, cracking my legs as far apart as they can go without being too conspicuous. I keep my eyes glued ahead of me and try to look nonchalant. No one is looking, so at least there’s that, but then my middle finger slips between my pussy lips and I immediately start to quiver. I have to stop touching myself and take a deep breath.

I probably look like I want to take a nap but I’m super-uncomfortable and frustrated right now.

“Shh, now,” Stuart breathes. “Keep going.”

I have to obey him, and knowing his eyes are on me makes me feel safe, even while masturbating in public. My finger wriggles back and forth over my clit and I purse my lips, feeling the stiffness of a delayed orgasm brewing in my belly.

I close my eyes and turn my head hard into the chair cushion, wanting to look like I’m fitfully sleeping. But then I feel Stuart’s hand crawl over mine, feel his fingers encase mine, and he says, “I want you to take my seat by the window.”

My eyes bulge open. That was a sudden shift in tone, wasn’t it? “Right now?”

“I want you to sit where no one can really see you,” he reassures me in a whisper. A slow grin spreads across my face, and I’m amazed at how he senses my discomfort and responds to it. He didn’t even have to guess. He could tell by my body posture that I was uncomfortable, and now I feel much better. Between his shoulders and the chairs in front of us, I’m totally eclipsed.

“Now,” Stuart growls, his hand tightening on mine, plunging us both back down into my panties. “You’re going to pay me back for giving up the window seat.”

My eyelashes flutter and I melt into the seat as his fingers explore my body again. He’s still facing forward, and I’m curled against the window, trying to look like I’m asleep. Every now and then, though, the quilt distinctly writhes. I don’t want to scream and come all over my pants. I have to wear these for the entire flight. I didn’t bring spare pants in my carry-on!

I fight the orgasm brewing inside me but that never works. I’m always trying to hold it back but the fire breaks through me whether I’m begging for it or not. I clamp my lips together to keep from whimpering. My body trembles beneath the quilt and his finger bends harder, flicking my clit like he’s strumming it, and I let out a little strangled gasp.

“Is she all right?” a stewardess’ voice penetrates our moment.

“Just a little feverish,” Stuart answers smoothly, not even losing the rhythm of his finger circling my nub with expert precision. “Little shaky. She gets nervous on planes.”

“Oh, dear, is she going to need a bag?”

I don’t dare look but there’s a pause in conversation, and I’m sure they’re examining me, trying to decipher whether or not I’m about to puke. Nope. I’m about to have a reluctant public orgasm because this is my future husband, the master of the house... and I’m his sex slave.

I have to look, and the stewardess watches me closely, her head cocked. To her, I probably just look sweaty and shaky. As long as I don’t orgasm right in front of her, she might keep believing it.

“Are you going to be sick, dear?”

“I... I, uh—ahh—don’t think so,” I finish, trying to rush through and simultaneously needing to pause and hold in my moan.

“Maybe a little one,” Stuart suggests. You can’t tell what he’s doing at all. His muscle control is so amazing, his shoulder isn’t even twitching a little bit.

“Okay then,” the stewardess chirps, flouncing off, oblivious.

“What are we going to do when I have to come?” I wonder, my eyeballs rolling around in my head like I’m possessed, my pussy clenching and grasping at nothing, practically drooling in my pants now. “I’m not going to be able to hold it in any longer.”

“Shh,” Stuart advises simply, taking his other hand and pinning it over my mouth. “There you go. Now...” His dark gray eyes smolder into an even darker shade. “Come for me.”

I whimper longingly against the hard palm of his hand and unleash against him, my entire body shaking in the seat like I’m having a seizure. It goes on and on and he doesn’t stop, leaving behind this Delta flight completely, just like I did.

He extracts his hands from my panties and invites me to meet him in the men’s room in five minutes. Then he stands, buttons his suit coat, and strolls toward the bathroom like we aren’t a couple of sex maniacs set loose in public together. I watch him go, hungry for more, and when we crash together on that tiny sink five minutes later, when his hardness is plunged to the hilt and his seed spurts into me... I know that I can’t go back.

“Get me pregnant,” I groan, my brain hot and loose right now. “I want all your cum, Stuart.”

He levels his gaze at me, and then slowly grins. “My fucking destiny,” he breathes against my lips. “I’ll get you pregnant tonight, Rose. Tonight,” he says, never breaking eye contact.

The annoying banging continues. “What’s going on in there?” A voice – muffled by the door to the bathroom.

“We’re coming,” Stuart snaps, and I have to say it. It’s too perfect.

“Actually, we already came!”

Stuart guffaws and pulls himself out of me, both shimmying back into our clothes, tugging up zippers and exiting the bathroom like it’s nothing, in spite of that miffed passenger.

“God, I want to marry you,” he says as we make our way back to our seats. “Always full of surprises.”

This is crazy but I feel it, too, and I blurt it out. I can’t hold it in anymore. “I want to marry you, too. Forget the promise. I want to be... yours.”

Stuart grabs my elbow and pulls me back against his chest, right in the middle of the walkway. He cups my face in his hand and kisses me soulfully.

“You are mine,” he swears. “You were the only woman I wished for, and you came. Now, Rose, you’re mine.”