Page 151 of Reverie
“You’re right, baby. You’re right that I’m fucked up from all the shit I’ve gone through and the shit I’ve done. And I haven’t had people around me to help me find myself through that. So I picked up whatever pieces I could find and pulled myself together. And there are parts of me that don’t fit; there are jagged edges to me that I’ve been trying desperately not to let cut you.”
Balling my skirt in his fists, he stretches the fabric taut over my upper thighs. “What I did with her was a Band-Aid.” He releases the tension in my lap, looking into my eyes, pleading. “Please believe me when I say that.”
I bite my lip, nodding to show him that I understand, that I believe him.
“You think I need to be like that with you, but the reality is, baby, I don’t want that. I want to be gentle with you. I want to be strong for you. I want to hold you and worship you and make you feel like the most spectacular woman on the planet. Because that’s what you are to me.”
His hands go to my waist, and I part my legs, letting him get closer to me. He lifts my shirt to right beneath my bra. I’m self-conscious about my rolls and the way my stomach has grown with each week of my pregnancy, but Hunter stares at me with such reverence that I feel like a goddess.
He puts his lips to the flesh above my navel, giving me sucking, open-mouthed kisses across the width of my abdomen. He kisses me on the flesh that protects our child.
“There will never be another woman you need to be jealous of, Winter,” he whispers against my skin. “There will never be a time when I don’t want every piece of you that you’re willing to give me.”
I ball my fists, desperate to run my fingers through his hair. “Can I touch you, Hunter? Please,” I say, tension in my voice.
I’m dimly aware of Jami’s presence on the other side of the plane, but at this moment, I can’t force myself to care.
Hunter shushes me, bringing his hands up my ribcage and to the clasp of my bra at my back. He unsnaps it. When I stiffen, he says, “Trust me.”
I relax back into the seat and nod once. He pulls my top and bra off in one move.
When the cold recirculated air hits my breasts, my nipples tighten, drawing a line to my clit. My gaze flicks toward the galley, embarrassment blooming hot over my cheeks.
“Eyes on me,” Hunter commands, and he puts his hand on my jaw and forces me to look at him.
Only at him.
When I suck in a breath and drop my voice to say, “Yes, Sir,” he smiles—beams.
“Good girl,” he growls. My panties get stupidly wet, and I do a Kegel involuntarily. “What’s your word, Winter?”
I shiver. We’re really doing this.
“Paris,” I say on a breath.
“Use it if it gets to be too much.” Hunter lowers his head to my right nipple and my back bows off the seat. He palms the other, squeezing the peak of my other breast between two fingers. When he draws hard on my skin, I moan loudly and shut my eyes, dropping my head to the headrest. Distantly, I feel him unbuckle my seatbelt.
A beep draws me from the ecstasy he’s stoking within me, and my eyes snap open. I immediately fix my gaze on the illuminated call light above me and gasp, looking down at Hunter.
“Do you want to use your word?” His gaze and voice are hard, commanding.
I can’t resist him; I don’t want to deny him. It dawns on me that I really, really want to do this. I want to go there with Hunter.
So I shake my head, even though Jami’s blond head looks past the galley curtain to where we sit.
“Don’t move unless I tell you to,” he commands. And this time, he isn’t daring me to stop him. He wants me to be in this with him.
He invited me to dive into the madness. And I’m following him like he’s Virgil and I’m Dante, going all the way into the darkest parts of Hell together.
“I trust you,” I say. My tits tremble from anxiety as much as from the cold.
He lands another reverent kiss to my stomach before standing, pulling me up with him.
I want to cross my arms over my chest, but Hunter moves behind me and sits in my vacant seat. He doesn’t order me to sit—instead, he pulls my skirt up, bunching it high around my ribcage, and sits me on his lap.
As Jami bounces closer, Hunter’s hard erection presses to the cleft of my ass.
When he puts my hands on both armrests, I let out a squeak. I want to cover myself, hide myself from her. Not because of insecurity, but rather because I don’t want to be vulnerable in front of this woman.