Chapter 37

Carter

“Fuck it, I’ll go piss in fuckin’ coach,” the Midwestern voice outside the door grumbles.

That’s a good decision, because we’re going to be in here for a while.

June and I stand up together, and our eyes find each other.

“Okay, that was once. Come on, city boy, you promised me a few more flying climaxes—and don’t you hold back, now.”

When I push her against the wall, a whooshing sound is heard, followed by an intense rose scent. Briefly, my eyes sting, and I can’t see anything.

“You pressed the room deodorizer,” she giggles and wriggles her body sideways a little.

“Who cares?” I murmur into her ear.

My hands are already busy exploring her curves. I didn’t need my eyes for that.

I’m hungry for more. I needed more, like a starved, crazy prisoner-of-war escapee, needing this tonic called June to get me back on my fucking feet.

Once my explorations of June’s bountiful body have driven me sufficiently mad—and the room deodorizer has cleared up—I shift my position to get a better look at the amazing fucking woman who’s sharing this tiny room with me.

The first thing I end up seeing is my reflection in the mirror, which freaks me the fuck out a bit. My face is black and blue all over, and the swelling around my eyes isn’t doing me any favors. I need to get my eyes away from this fucking mirror, stat.

My eyes find June’s eyes again, and my mouth finds her mouth again.

Slowly, gently, I push my tongue into her lips. It’s not rough, it’s not forceful, but the pent-up emotions are undeniable in every move I make.

A tiny moan escapes her lips as she tilts her head backwards.

My fingers brush over her silky skin. The sensation only leaves me wanting more. I wish I could just rip her clothes off. Unfortunately, it’s a little tight in here, and we’re both about to burst with famished anticipation.

So, it’s time to get right to it, clothes-ripping be damned.

I let my mouth move off her lips and brush her cheeks before biting into her neck. My lips pull at her skin, and I feel her fingernails dig into my neck and back.

With my right hand, I grab and lift her leg. She responds by wrapping it around my lower back.

At the same time, my teeth travel downward, biting into her all the way. I can see tiny marks from where I’ve ravaged her already.

“Fuck me, Carter,” she moans, and now her hands are back around my cock.

My head moves back, and I tilt it to the right.

“My, my, Mrs. Carter Abraham. Did you just use the word fuck?”

There’s no verbal response from June. She slaps me on the back and pushes her hips toward mine.

I get the message.

It’s time for my cock to enter her pussy. With one deft movement, I lift her skirt and pull her panties down. My index finger draws a little circle over her clit.

Her pussy is so wet. She’s well and truly fucking ready to take my cock.

Without further ado, I grab her hips and lift her up a little. Then I enter her slowly.

I try to be as measured as I can, but as soon as my cock enters the familiar territory, I struggle to keep control.

It’s as if my cock realizes it’s come home. Almost acting of its own accord, it seems to be drawn to her pussy.

And so, I start to pummel into her.

Her left leg’s now wrapped around my waist, and I’ve got one arm under her ass and the other around her waist.

The scent of rose is still lingering in the air from the deodorizer. For the first time, I notice the soft classical music playing.

Pavarotti singing Nessun Dorma, if I’m not mistaken.

I’m swept up by the music, and I find myself fucking her in time to Luciano.

The deep tones of the tenor send a shiver down my spine, and I see June close her eyes. Her lips seem to be moving a little. I wonder if she’s humming the words.

I must take June to Italy to see live opera. Maybe before the baby is born.

It occurs to me how much we’ll have to try and do before this baby is born and our lives are taken up with changing diapers, feedings, and living on less than five hours of sleep a night.

There’s more banging on the door. It rattles a little from the impact.

This is getting annoying, but at least the goddamn turbulence seems to be over.

June pulls a face, and her arms around my neck tighten. Holy shit, this is so fucking amazing.

“Hey!” a muffled voice shouts from outside the lav.

“Screw off,” I call back. “Restroom’s occupied.”

Pavarotti is reaching his high note, and I’m not far off from reaching mine.

When he sings ‘vincero, vincero,’ ‘I will win, I will win,’ I feel my body quiver and my muscles spasm. The ultimate release is getting closer.

I make sure that with each inward thrust, I don’t push too hard. I don’t want to fucking disturb the baby.

“Bite my neck,” I whisper to June. She obliges without question.

As she nibbles at my skin before increasing her bite, I feel myself tip over the edge.

I shoot my massive load into June.

‘Viiiiinnnnnceeerrooooo,’ sings Pavarotti and I know exactly what he means.

I’ve won.

My life is back intact.

June’s own orgasm grabs a hold of her, and I feel the walls of her pussy grab my cock and milk it for any last remaining drop of cum.

When she’s done, she sags in my arms.

I feel fucking ecstatic. I wish this moment, in an airplane bathroom, could last forever. Just me, June, and the little person growing inside her belly.

Of course, it can’t. Moments don’t work that way—and June’s already fixing her skirt, leaning against the door for balance. As I start pulling my pants back up, still reveling in my own happiness, the noisy rattling at the door resumes.

Before I can shout my annoyance at whoever is intent on coming in, the door opens loudly and forcefully.

“Look, I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but this is a lavatory.” I can tell from the authority in her voice that it’s a flight attendant.

June, still leaning on the door, starts tumbling as the door opens further.

I do my best to catch her.

My arms wrap around her protectively, and I increase my grip on her as she struggles to maintain her balance.

“Hey!”

We both start at the sound of the flight attendant yelling, and suddenly we’re both off balance.

The door swings open entirely, and all of a sudden, I’m on my back, with June on her back on top of me.

We’ve both fallen out into the aisle where there’s a crowd of irate passengers surrounding us.

Silently, June pushes herself up, standing gracefully. Still on the ground, I try to be discreet while pushing my cock back into my pants.

“Don’t y’all know what occupied means?” June lectures the crowd. “It says it right on the door, for crying out loud.”

“The airline’s sending you a bill for that door,” a voice near me bellows.

“Hey, Cap’n,” I respond. “I recognize that voice from the announcements. No problem, send it to me.”

A quick downward glance confirms my jewels are stashed away safely and soundly before I spin my legs around and awkwardly contort myself into position.

On one knee in front of June.

Like a knight kneeling before his princess.

She is my princess, my future queen, and the love of my life.

I reach up and gently take her hand.

“June,” I begin, pulling something out of my pocket. “Will you be my wife?”

For a moment, I forget we’re on an airplane, surrounded by passengers. The sound of a collective awwww from the once irate crowd brings back my situational awareness.

This wasn’t my original plan for proposing. I considered more traditional options, like over dessert after dinner at a fancy restaurant.

But as the world collapsed around us, with the door being so forcibly opened, I realized there’s no time like the present.

June stares at me.

“What?” she mutters.

Her eyes reflect confusion.

“You’re sure making this hard on a guy,” I say, trying to sound like I’m joking.

And trying to hide my fear.

What if she says no?

Up until this moment, it never occurred to me that she might. And yet, she’s not jumping up and down shouting with joy and saying yes, yes, yes.

“Carter, I don’t understand.” Her voice is soft, and her eyes start brimming with tears. “The contract says I’ll marry you. You don’t have to do this.”

My brow furrows. Is she really talking about the contract?

“Fuck the contract.” I stand up. I don’t know if it’s what I’m supposed to do, but I rise to my feet to get close to June and bring her closer to me.

I want to hold her and never let her go. I want to make sure that I never lose her again.

So, I envelope her in my arms, and she leans into me. My insides tingle, and I just want to hear her say that one magic word.

The crowd grumbles impatiently.

June looks around and smiles shyly.

“So, June will you be my wife, without the contract?”

“Yes,” she whispers. Immediately, I pick her up and twirl her through the air.

The crowd applauds, and a flight attended appears with a glass of champagne.

“No, thank you,” mumbles June, and puts a hand over her belly.

“I’ll have one, though,” I say, and take the glass.

“What?”

I kiss her on the tip of her nose. “Only this one to help me with the pain.”

June rolls her eyes.

We go back to our seats, holding hands.

By now, the captain is announcing our landing.

I can’t wait to meet June’s dad and everyone else from June’s life in Nebraska—even that dickhead Kody.

Knowing June’s agreed to marry me without the contract makes me the happiest man in the world—no, in the whole fucking universe.

I’ve never been surer of anything in my life.