by Vivien Vale
That’s better.
It’s nice and comfy when I sit down, but boy, is he being, um, adamant today.
Carter leans down so fast, it’s like he’s freaking falling…but the next thing I know he’s smooching my neck with manic yet focused diligence.
“Oh, well, hey there!”
I’m hollering for his benefit, I think, but he doesn’t react directly, which makes me even hotter.
We start hitting another crazy air pocket as Carter drops to his knees. The total effect is enough to make me gasp, but the sudden rise in intensity is tempered for a nice little moment when Carter rubs a gentle hand on my belly.
“Oh, hey there again.”
“I can’t wait to taste your wet pussy and make you come over Ohio, then over Indiana, then twice over Illinois.”
“Eloquent.”
Again, no verbal response, just the feel of Carter’s hands on my legs, roughly massaging my skin, taking his time but sending the unmistakable message with every movement of his hungry hands that his appetite is ravenous and bottomless.
A delicate kiss just off the top of my thigh…a slightly less delicate kiss lower down, on my inner thigh.
Another slightly, but only slightly, less delicate kiss on my inner thigh, then another, rougher, needier kiss on my other thigh.
My hands, starting to tremble as if they were hitting some moderate turbulence of their own, start moving clumsily to pull up my skirt.
Frustration suddenly rushes though me, because my hands are vibrating with excitement and can’t move fast enough to get my skirt out of the way.
Abruptly, Carter’s hands are on either side of my skirt, pulling it down with almost startling efficiency.
“Read…my…”
No, I’m not going to finish.
I can’t.
Carter is back to kissing my thighs. He alternates from just above my knees, then stays on my left inner thigh as he moves rapidly upwards.
Those adamant kisses become softer, and then the sensation changes…
“Oh…dear…”
Carter’s tongue takes the place of his lips as he gets closer to the warm, tingling lips of my ready pussy.
“Holy…wow. Yes. That’s…yes.”
The tip of Carter’s tongue rubs around the outside of my pussy lips, staying so maddeningly close yet not touching the slick, excited realm of my womanhood quite ye—
“Oh, my dear sweet word, goodness me, fuck yes!”
There he goes, his tongue traveling gently up, down, and around. It feels so freaking amazing, but the promise of what’s to come has heat flushing through every inch of me.
Carter doesn’t get faster or harder with his movements like I expected. As his tongue slows, he seems to be getting more of my pussy with every lap and lick.
I can now clearly feel his tongue flattening against my pussy, setting every nerve in that entire region of my body on gosh-darned fire.
Carter’s licks simplify, turning into straight runs up my lips.
Slow runs. More like walks or a gentle sunset stroll…
A gentle stroll across a field of wheat at sunset that’s about to make me.
There’s another brief, intense pocket of turbulence—then stillness.
Carter’s tongue stops moving, staying where it was. The rapturous feeling is almost unbearable.
Carter’s tongue begins moving again, when there’s an impatient knock at the door.
“Hold your freaking hors…”
My body trembles, interrupting my own shouting. Oceans of bliss overtake everything within and around me.
And this was just the beginning.
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.
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.
Chapter 38
June
“Are those apple trees?”
The whispered question comes from somewhere on Carter’s side of the aisle—because where else would it come from?
Do these city folks really not know what an apple tree looks like?
Whoever whispered that little query also has the worst timing in the world, since we just said our vows, and we were about to kiss, but now I’m distracted.
“They have apples on them, don’t they?” I yell, answering the question and getting a laugh from all the guests on both sides of the aisle.
The nearby honey crisp trees are the only trees around, surrounded by a sea of golden wheat.
With the sun setting over the boundless fields, it’s finally time for Carter to kiss the bride.
That would be me.
My senses prickle with anticipation as my new husband flashes one of his million-dollar smiles at me.
I’m wearing a white wedding dress with lace on the front, but the most unique part of my attire is the pair of brown leather cowboy boots at my feet.
Yep, that’s right. I wanted to stay true to my roots. These boots had been a gift from my grandma right before I left for New York. A parting gift of sorts, you might say.
Grandma told me she wanted to give me something I would remember her by, and I had been so touched by the caring gesture.
Now, here I stand as a beautiful—and enormously pregnant—new bride to one of the most brilliant, gorgeous men in all of Manhattan.
Or the most gorgeous, brilliant, big-hearted, and amazing man in all of New York.
Or, really, just the hottest and best freaking husband anyone could want in the entire freaking world.
The decision to get married in my small hometown in Nebraska really seems to be agreeing with Carter.
On the other hand, I’m not sure how his city slicker friends and family are taking to the scenery. I notice several of them staring listlessly at the flat horizon, which is filled with nothing but golden pastu
res of wheat as far as the eye can see.
Carter, being the tasteful, well-dressed man that he is, is wearing a designer tuxedo. It’s so freaking sexy on him that I keep getting distracted with thoughts of ripping it right off.
But I know that opportunity will come later.
Now, it’s time for that amazing kiss that I’m about to receive from my brand-new husband.
I close my eyes and lean in, ready for the sparks to take over.
And they do.
I feel his lips press against mine.
Excitement rushes through me—the excitement of the kiss and the excitement of what’s to come.
Of everything to come.
Grinning, we pull apart from each other.
We have something to reveal to our beloved wedding guests, and neither of us can keep it to ourselves any longer.
Without a word, Carter crouches down on one knee and rubs my swollen, tremendously pregnant belly.
He plants a kiss on one side, then grins at our friends and family slyly, as if he’s got a trick up his sleeve.
My legs start to shake I absolutely cannot wait to see everyone’s faces when they find out what Carter is going to do next.
He pats the right side of my belly in the same place he’s just kissed, then he moves his head to the other side of my belly, kisses it, and gives it another little pat.
“I love you, guys, and I can’t wait to meet you. Both of you,” he says in a bellowing voice loud enough for everyone to hear.
“Twins?” Carter’s father cries out with excitement, and Carter smiles, taking my hand and giving it a squeeze.
“Yep,” I announce to everyone, and then squeal with delight because I just can’t help myself. “We’re having twins!”
Just as I anticipated, everyone cheers and claps, hollering and whistling with joy at the news of not only one, but two bundles of joy getting ready to join and merge our families together.
It might be legally official with a marriage license, but there’s nothing like a pair of adorable babies entering the world to make the blend of families complete.
The fiddles begin playing the exit song, and I walk—well, more like waddle these days—down the aisle, hand in hand with my groom.
We take a few pictures as a married couple and then make our grand entrance under the canopy tent for the reception.