Taking Back His Bride

“Still your spot, I see.”

“Brooks,” I murmur, whimpering as his mouth trails over my skin. “This helicopter, the suit…”

“Later,” he purrs. “I’m not waiting another second for this.”

His lips fasten to my neck, biting and sucking hard enough to bruise, but in that way he knows drives me wild. Heat explodes through me, and I can feel my arousal leaking into my panties, making them slick and hot as I grind into his lap. I can feel him there, this thick, hard… fuck.

No, I never forgot how big he is, or how powerful and thick that gorgeous cock of his is. I mean how the hell could I ever forget that? But it’s been so long, and feeling it now is just… bliss. It’s like it all comes rushing back—how he feels when he pushes inside, stretching me so wonderfully as he fucks me. How he claims me like no other man ever could.

My love.

My husband.

His arms slide to the straps of my dress and as he starts to tug it down, I moan, blushing.

“Brooks—”

“The pilot can’t see a thing back here.”

But the heat still creeps into my cheeks as I turn to nervously look towards the cockpit, even if I believe him.

“I—”

“Let me see you, angel,” he purrs, pulling my attention back to him as our eyes lock. “Let me see what I’ve been dreaming about for over a fucking year.”

He tugs the dress down, making me shiver as his mouth teases down my cleavage. His strong hands cup my full breasts, peeling the cups of my bra away as his lips find my rosy nipples hard and ready. I cry out as he sucks one into his mouth, tonguing it as he peels the dress down to my waist. He groans, hands skimming over my body, touching me and teasing me until the feel of his touch lights fires across my skin. My hands go to his jacket, pushing it off his shoulders as he groans into my breasts.

“Fuck, angel,” he growls, shrugging the jacket off.

I’m tearing at his shirt next, pulling anxiously at the buttons, desperate to feel the heat of him, to touch his skin and his body. The shirt pulls away as he unfastens my bra, and I push my hands over his rock-hard chest.

God he’s even stronger. His muscles thicker, harder. There’s some new ink on his chest, too, and I gasp as I pause to run my fingers over the lettering.

It’s my name.

“When—”

“The week before I heard.”

I pause, a shadow crossing my face as my jaw tenses.

“That I’d divorced you.”

He grimaces.

“Brooks, I’m amazed you didn’t have it removed.”

He smiles slowly, shaking his head. “No. Even if you actually had left me, it’d stay right there. Close to my heart. Forever.”

I melt into him, kissing him, and when I feel his hands slide to my ass and tug my dress up, I moan. He pulls at the rest of the zipper, pulling it down and letting the dress slip to the floor. I shiver, realizing I’m ten-thousand feet up in the air above the city in just a pair of panties, riding my husband’s thick erection.

And God does that feel good.

His hands slide to my ass, gripping me tightly as he growls into my skin.

“Stand,” he groans, his voice rough and tense and demanding.

“What?”

“Stand for me, angel.”

He pulls me off his lap, tugging one high-heeled foot onto the seat next to his thigh.

“Right here?”

“Yes.”

I blush, but slowly, I do as he says, moving to stand on wobbly, heeled feet on either side of his legs on the plush seat. But his hands hold me fast, sliding up my bare legs and gripping me firmly. I moan as I feel his breath against my thigh, and I look down with panting breath as he nuzzles closer to my pussy. He’s so big, and me standing like this has him right in front of where my panties pull tight across my mound.

“Mmm,” he growls hungrily, his eyes flashing fire as they narrow at the gusset of my thong panties.

“Naughty girl.”

And I know he’s seen it—how fucking wet I am. His hand slides up, and when his finger traces over the wet spot darkening the front of my panties, I shiver, moaning. His hand slides higher, fingers hooking into the thin lacy edge of the thong before he starts to tug it down. I whimper as he peels it lower, over my mound, his breath teasing over the small patch of hair above my slit. His tongue swipes at the groove where my thigh almost touches my pussy, and I cry out, my hands sliding into his thick dark hair and holding on firmly.

He tugs the panties lower, until they stretch tight around my mid-thighs. But suddenly, he growls and yanks hard, and I gasp as they rip, shredding right off of me as he tosses them aside.