9

Dash

Janine looks like she’s going to a funeral, not a honeymoon.

Right now, as we’re sitting in the backseat of the limo en route to the airport, Janine has her arms folded across her chest, her lips pursed, eyebrows bunched together, and creases in the middle of her forehead.

She was in such a good mood earlier, smiling and humming along to the elevator music. Now, she seems the complete opposite.

“Hey.” I take my hand out of my coat pocket, reaching across the backseat to place it on her thigh. “You’re still not upset about what happened at breakfast, are you?”

She doesn’t answer or look at me.

I slide across the seat so I end up right next to her. “Janine, you can’t let Marissa ruin this for us,” I tell her, holding her hand. “That’s exactly what she’d want.”

She looks at me. “You seem to know very well what she wants.”

I exhale. “She and I are over. We’ve long been over.” “Really?” She raises an eyebrow.

“Really. Why would I lie to you? We’re already lying to everyone else. Why would I keep a secret from you?”

“I didn’t even know you and Marissa were a thing. I didn’t even know she existed.”

“Fine.” I rub her hand. “I’ll tell you everything about her.”

She shifts her body so that she’s facing me, suddenly interested.

“We spent a few weeks together when I was in Virginia, taking a break.”

“A few weeks?” Her eyes narrow.

“Yeah.” I shrug. “Then I had to leave again and I left.

That’s all there is to it.”

She rolls her eyes. “When was this?”

“Three years back, four maybe. I don’t really remember.” “But she clearly remembers you,” she points out, wrenching her hand away and folding her arms over her chest again. “Very poignantly, actually. She even remembers that camisole you got her.”

I lift my hands. “I don’t even remember that.”

“Well, do you remember breaking up with her?” Janine turns her head to look at me. “Because she seems to think the two of you still have something going on.”

I place my hands on my thighs, shrugging. “She has a husband, baby. She knows we’re not together anymore.”

“I told you not to call me that.”

I straighten up with a scowl. “You told me not to call you sugartits, or something like that. I was inside you last night, but I can’t call you baby?”

Her hands fall to her sides. “I just want to know why you didn’t stand up for me to that horrible woman.”

“We are still talking about Marissa, right? The girl from the hotel restaurant?”

“Yes!”

“Janine… I hardly even noticed she was there. I didn’t even remember that we hooked up until she mentioned the camisole.”

She sighs, looking out the window.

I reach for her hand. “Don’t let that rich bitch get to you,” I plead softly. “She doesn’t mean anything.”

She looks at me. “Tell her that.” “I will,” I assure her.

She looks surprised.

I bring her hand to my lips. “You’re my wife, Janine. Business deal or not, I won’t cheat on you. I will never humiliate you like that.”

She blinks at me and tilts her head gently to one side. “Really?”

I frown, wounded by her lack of faith. I’ll just have to win it.

I get off the chair and on the floor, kneeling in front of her.

Janine’s eyes grow wide. “What are you doing?” “Proving that you’re all I want.”

I lift the hem of her loose skirt and slip under it, pushing her thighs apart.

“Dash,” she hisses, fear and excitement in her voice. “We’re in the limo right now.”

“No one will see us,” I tell her, kissing the front of her pink panties.

She grabs my arm. “But the driver will hear us.” “He’s well-paid.”

Frankly, I don’t care.

I part her thighs wider, licking the cotton.

She clutches my arm but this time, she’s not pulling, not urging for me to let go. She’s just holding on.

Grinning, I keep licking, the cotton getting damp with something other than the saliva from my tongue. I can taste her juice on the edges of her panties, sweet and salty. I lick harder. Janine grips me tighter.

I stop abruptly, hooking my thumbs into the waistband of her panties. She lets me go, lifting her hips so that I can pull the piece of clothing off, pulling it all the way down to her ankles and off one foot, which I take out of her shoe. Then I go back to my task, parting her thighs even wider and pressing my tongue against her clit.

I hear her back hit the leather, her fingers raking across it as she lets out a gasp.

I continue swiping the tip of my tongue against that nub, my hands gripping her quivering thighs. Then I move lower, moving her hips forward so that I can trace her wet folds with my tongue before delving between them, my nose buried in her curls, drowning in the scent of soap, sweat, and her sex.

She bucks, a sound between a gasp and a whimper escaping her lips.

How I wish I can see Janine right now, doing her best not to make a sound as I eat her up, but I save that wish for some other time, moving my tongue faster and ignoring the pulsing of my cock inside my pants.

She grips my hair through the fabric of her dress, her knees shaking.

Then her hips push forward, her knees lifting as she pushes my head down, trembling all around me as her sex weeps, the smell of her more intense.

I close my eyes to savor it as she goes still. Then she relaxes, her hands leaving my head, her thighs parting, her knees limp.

I come out from under the tent of her skirt, seeing her still gasping for air through parted lips, her cheeks flushed and her eyes teary.

The sight of it is enough to send my cock straining against the layers of cotton and denim.

I ignore it, taking a deep breath and licking my lips before helping her put her panties back on and returning to my seat.

“Convinced now?” I ask her, straightening my coat as I lean back. “Because if you’re not, I swear I’ll do that again on the plane.”

“I am,” Janine answers quickly, holding my hand. Slowly, the corners of her lips turn up into a smile. Finally.

“Good.” I entwine my fingers with hers as I wipe the sweat off my brow with my other hand, returning her smile. “Good.”