Page 154 of Reverie

“Come on my cock,” he whispers for my ears only.

I obey him. My god, I obey.

When all my muscles clench and fireworks bloom behind my eyelids, I finally allow my hands to move, reaching one hand back to grasp the back of his head behind me.

“Watch her as she comes and know that you’ll never have this again,” Hunter growls. My orgasm goes on and on, sucking at his cock greedily as I crest and crest and crest?—

“Winter.Wife,” Hunter says as he surges his hips up in three sharp thrusts and explodes inside me. The feeling of his dick twitching against my walls has me rolling over the peak one more time.

In the aftermath, all Hunter and I do is breathe.

And just when the shame and discomfort begin to edge into my post-orgasm haze, Hunter saves me and says to Jami, “Get out of my sight and stay out of my sight. And never say another word to me or my wife again.”

I feel Jami move off toward the front of the plane.

Still, we can only look at each other, so I see it when Hunter’s gaze turns from dominant to vulnerable. He closes his eyes, lifting me off his softening cock. When I stand, turning to face him with his essence dripping down my thighs, he leans back, looking away from me.

And if my heart is correct in my assumption, he’s waiting for my rejection.

It doesn’t come. It never will.

I settle back on his lap again, this time facing him with my skirt bunched between us. When I land on him fully, he takes a deep breath and holds it.

When he releases it, it shudders out of him, but his face is still like stone.

“Look at me, Hunter,” I say, putting my hand on his jaw. His five o’clock shadow scratches my palm.

“I am your safe space. You are safe with me. I love you, and I’m not leaving. You can’t scare me away,” I say. Then, just because I want to, I lower my forehead to his and sigh.

And wait.

The plane banks to the side and absently, I note the captain’s voice as it comes over the intercom, detailing something about our travels.

But I tune the pilot out when Hunter opens his mouth for several long seconds, preparing himself to spill his truths.

“I love you, Hunter Brigham. I am so incredibly happy to be your wife,” I say.

He shudders again. Drawing in another breath, he begins to speak.

“The leader was someone who I expected to hurt me. He was my father’s co-conspirator, his right-hand man, and he was always on Isla Cara when I was there. He was always watching me. His name was Alistair.”

I commit the name to memory as Hunter rasps the last word of his sentence.

“My father sat across from me, watching, the entire time I was being raped by Alistair and his friends,” he begins.

I still all my muscles, ready to listen to him say as much as he needs to.

As much as he wants to.

“I want to tell you about it, Sunbeam,” he whispers against my lips. So I wrap him in my arms and bring him close.

“I’m here to listen, baby,” I say. Running my fingers through the hair at the base of his neck, I dedicate the next two hours in the clouds to hearing all the horrors Hunter Brigham has endured.

TWENTY-TWO

WINTER

Breaking international law is surprisingly anti-climactic.