by Dani René
My cock is thick, aching behind my zipper. “This will have to wait,” I promise, pulling my hand away. Her glazed stare is filled with the same desire I’m sure is in mine. Not long after I settle back, the car pulls into the hangar, and the sleek, silver jet is parked, ready and waiting.
“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” she asks again, her voice raspy, but I shake my head. Opening the door, I exit the car and help her out.
“You’ll see soon enough, my sweetheart.” We head toward the aircraft while our driver lugs the suitcases from the car. “Up with you.” With a swift spank on her ass, she squeals and runs up the stairs into the belly of the plane.
Inside the jet, we take our seats, her by the window and me beside her. The crew prepares for takeoff, and the hostess brings a small trolley filled with drinks and snacks, offering Mila something. I watch with a smile as she grabs the chocolate muffin, which I knew she would, and a Coke.
Once I’ve got a water for myself, I lean back and close my eyes, waiting for us to be airborne. “Are you afraid to fly?” Her voice is in my ear, serving to harden my cock further, straining in my jeans. I open my eyes to regard her.
“No, I’m trying to reign in my restraint,” I respond gruffly.
“Why?” she teases, sucking chocolate muffin from her fingers, and I have to shut my eyes again, grinding my teeth to keep from gripping her and making her straddle me.
“Because if you keep teasing me with that damn chocolate, you’ll be joining the mile-high club very soon, sweetheart,” I bite out, meeting her gaze again.
“Well, what’s stopping you?” She giggles again, licking her thumb, sucking on it like she loves to suck my cock.
“Jesus, Mila.” The jet suddenly hits cruising height, and I can’t wait anymore. Undoing the seat belt, I unclick hers and tug her onto my lap. “Hold onto me,” I grunt, and she does. Her hands twine around my neck and I pull her up. Stalking toward the back of the plane, I kick open the door to the bedroom and push it shut behind us.
Her giggles echo through the room when we stumble and fall onto the bed. “Grayson,” she moans as I tug her tank top off, and once it’s on the floor, I make quick work of her shorts. Her smooth skin shimmers in the dim light, and I push her thighs open, inhaling her scent.
She’s wet, and when I place a kiss on her material-clad pussy, the taste of her arousal is enough to have my mouth watering. “Jesus, Mila.” With one swift tug, I rip off her panties and dive in between her legs, lick and laving at the sweet, slick heat.
Her hips buck and writhe against my mouth. Her fingers tangle in my hair as she tugs on the strands, trying to pull me closer. “Oh, God . . . Grayson . . . Jesus . . .” Her moans are louder, and I’m sure everyone on the plane can hear her, but I don’t care. I feast on her like her body is my final meal.
I slide two fingers into her tight heat, crooking them up, I find the spot which pushes her over the edge, and she flies apart below me. She's trembling, and her thighs on either side of my head tighten as she finds her release.
“Mm, fuck, you taste so good, sweetheart.” Meeting her darkened gaze, I rise and shove off my jeans and boxer briefs. She scoots up on the bed, propped up on her elbows. She watches me crawl over her with the tip of my cock at her pussy, needing and aching to drive into her.
“Fuck me, please?” She pouts, and I chuckle. Gripping my shaft, I stroke her entrance with the tip, teasing her wet folds, and her hips buck, trying to get me to slip inside. But I continue teasing. “Jesus, Grayson, please?”
I love when she begs.
Slowly, inch by excruciating inch, I slip inside her. Savoring the sensation of our bodies connecting in the most primal way. Rolling my hips, I fill her, feeling her body pulse around me. My mouth molds to hers, and she licks the flavor of her juices from my tongue and lips.
It’s erotic, sensual, and so beautiful to feel so connected to someone. We’re ready to take the final step marriage. I want it more than anything. Mila is young, she needs to find her footing in her studies, career, and her life. I will never stop her from doing what she wants. But I need to put a ring on her finger.
With that thought in mind, I connect us by thrusting into her. Pulling out, I slam back in. My desire heats my blood, and she rakes her nails down my back. Digging into the skin, earning herself a grunt.
“Faster, please . . .” Her mewls spur me on, and I slide almost all the way out and power back into her, hitting the deepest depths of her body. As if I could get closer to her.
“Mila, I need you to come, baby, please,” I bite out. My release is close, and I want her with me. Reaching between us, I circle her clit with my thumb, applying pressure, and just then, her body tightens, pulling me into her, deeper, and my body locks. “Come for me, sweetheart, come all over my cock.” My words send a surge through her, and she smirks. Her body shudders as a release rushes through her, dragging me along with her, and I fill her with my seed.
Her eyes flutter closed, her cheeks are flushed, and her body trembles below me. Leaning in, I plant soft kisses from her breasts up to her neck, suckling on the flesh, causing her to shiver. Soft moans, whimpers, and unintelligible words fall from her lips.
When I reach her ear, I breathe the words, “I’m yours forever, sweetheart. Always and forever.” I lift my head, meeting her stare, which is filled with love and adoration.
“And I am yours, Grayson Connor.” The words I’ve wanted to hear for far too long wind themselves around my heart causing it to thud wildly in my chest.
“Good girl. I think it’s time I got you a little gift. Something to show everyone you’re mine.” Her eyes widen at my words. We’re still connected as I soften and slip from her. “Today, I’m buying you a ring,” I tell her.
She has no choice, because she is mine.
Her mouth opens, and she utters three words I’ll never forget.
“I can’t wait.”
Epilogue
The knock on the door makes my heart leap into my throat. I haven’t seen my Aunt since Grayson and I got together. Her job has her traveling all over the world, but now that she’s back in Seattle, she’s wanted to meet up for weeks. Each time she’s offered to come by, or invited me for lunch, but I’ve told her I was busy.
There’s no more hiding.
Pulling open the door, I find my aunt, who looks exactly like my mom standing on the threshold of the house where I grew up. When I told her to come here, I was hoping being in the familiar surroundings would ease the news I’m about to deliver.
“Mila,” she pulls me into a hug, holding me so tight, I can’t breathe.
“Aunt Shanika,” I smile. Shutting the door behind her, I lead her into the living space.
Her long dark hair is pinned back, so her face isn’t hidden by the curtain of black locks that usually frame her expression. She’s nothing like my mother - serious, almost cold and distant. But this hug is something else.
“I’ve spoken to Gabriel,” she tells me as she settles on the sofa, and I take a seat on the opposite couch. I know she’s heard about Grayson and me. There’s no other reason she would be here.
“Okay,” I say, dragging out the word, unsure of what to tell her.
“At first, I was shocked, to be honest, I thought it was disgusting that you’re in love with Grayson,” she utters, her voice is low, but there’s no menace to it, and I wonder where she’s going with this.
I bite back a retort. I want to defend myself, defend the man I love. The ring that’s on my left hand is painfully clear where my life has taken me. And even though I’m starting a career soon, and Grayson is supporting me following my dreams, I also would like her blessing.
“Your mother was very much a free spirit,” my aunt says with a fond smile. “That’s where we differed. She was always off doing something exciting, upsetting our folks. But there’s one thing I can say, is that I’ve always admired her.”
“She never told me any of this,” I whisper, feeling the
tears prick my eyes at her reminiscing.
Aunt Shanika nods, “You’re so much like her. And I know, deep down, she would’ve been happy, as long as you were. If Grayson is the man who looks after you, makes you smile every day, and gives you the support you need, then I guess it’s okay.”
I’m on my knees, holding her close. My heart is filled with warmth and happiness. It’s all I ever wanted.
“Is he good to you?”
I glance up at my aunt and nod. “He is. He’s the best man, I promise I’ll always look after myself, but I can’t stop loving Grayson.”
“Then we’ll have to plan the wedding.” Her smile is everything to me. It brings me the comfort in knowing I have my family near, and I have the man I love to spend the rest of my life with.
BONUS NOVELLA
Copyright © 2017 by Dani René
Published by Dani René
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book
or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.
The following story contains mature themes, strong language, and sexual situations. It is intended for adult readers.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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Forgive me Father…
Reid
It’s been one of those days.
The collar is tight.
The church is stifling. The only thing I long for is time outdoors. Fresh air without the memory of her. She walked into the confessional again this morning. Her voice so gentle, sweet, wholesome. I recognized the tone at once; even though confession is anonymous, I knew it was her.
Sage King.
One of the most popular eighteen-year-old girls in this modest community. Trinity is one of those scenic harbor towns. When the rector asked if I wanted to move to Canada, I accepted. I’d needed to leave the US, and this was the ideal opportunity.
Eight months ago, I packed a suitcase and strode out of the small log cabin I called home and never looked back. When I turned twenty-five, I didn’t expect my life to take the direction it did, but now, at thirty, I’m married. Not to the woman I loved. To God.
Only, I’ve had a wandering mind. It goes places it shouldn’t. I’m sitting in my office, preparing a sermon for Sunday’s mass, and the only thing on my mind is that young woman.
Her long, dark hair, sleek, straight, and glossy. The color reminds me of gingerbread, the length perfect for wrapping around my fist. Her big, brown eyes innocent, although sinful. Her mouth. Fuck. I can’t think about her lips without my dick straining against the black slacks I wear every day.
Dropping the pen, I sit back, shutting my eyes, remembering the confession this morning.
“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”
“And what is it you need to confess, child?” My tone is gravelly. Her voice sends heat racing through every part of my body, and I have to adjust my thickening erection. It’s worse than I realized. The guilt eats away at me, but I’m a human being. Weak. Needy. I can’t stop my desire for her.
“I’ve . . . I mean . . .”
“It’s okay, child. You’re safe here.”
Is she? No. Because if she strode into this booth and dropped to her knees, I don’t think I’d be capable of saying no. There’s no way I’d be able to resist sinking into her mouth. Having those glossy, pastel-pink colored lips around my cock would be heaven itself.
“There’ve been things I’ve done. Things I shouldn’t do. My parents would disapprove of me if they knew.”
“We all do things we’re not proud of, little lamb. It’s how we repent that absolves us.” Her breathing hitches. The sound sends a jolt of pleasure to my balls. They hang heavy, wanting to empty into a willing vessel. Something tight. Hot. Wet.
Fuck. Scrubbing my palms over my face, I inhale a long breath.
“Father, I’ve touched myself.” Her words come out in a whoosh.
As wrong as it is, her voice has this effect on me, and my dick agrees. He's ready to burst through my slacks. I shouldn’t do this. But I find my hand on the bulge as she tells me her dirty tales. “There’s a man. He’s . . . older. I . . .”
“Go on,” I urge. My voice strained as I stroke myself through the material.
“I think about him, and I feel a tingle between my legs. It’s . . . I’m so ashamed, but I can’t stop. I mean . . .”
I know what you mean, I want to tell her. To confess my own dirty fantasies. My own filthy sins. But I can’t. I don’t. Instead, I rub the aching hard-on in my pants.
“My fingers get so wet,” she continues her torturous confession. “And I . . . I find release. I find ecstasy. How can it be wrong? It feels so right.” My body locks. Immediately the wet spot in the black material shows, and I stifle a groan.
“Ten Hail Marys’ child,” I bite out, shoving the door open, fleeing before she sees me.
Glancing at the page that has two lines of a sermon, I sigh, realizing I’m no better than the damn sinners I’m talking about. How do I tell people to pray, to confess and repent, to be honorable citizens when my mind is filled with dirty thoughts? I should be different. It’s why I entered the church, to dedicate my time and life to doing good.
I’m worse. I’m a hypocrite. Every Sunday I stand up before my congregation and preach about morals, values, respect, and I’m breaking every one of those rules. I should rip off the damn collar and burn it. Perhaps I’ll burst into flames.
A knock at the door drags me from my secret thoughts. “Come in,” I call to the visitor. Rising from my chair, I round the desk only to be halted in my tracks. The brunette who’s been haunting my mind, dreams, and fantasies stands on my threshold looking almost ethereal. I say almost because her body is far from it. It’s sinful. Curves fill out the black jeans she wears. Her top—a pastel-blue, flowery, satin material—fits loosely around what I can only imagine being pert breasts.
“I’m sorry if I’m interrupting you, Father. I . . .” Her voice drops to a mere whisper. She regards me with big eyes glistening with hope and anxiety. “I wanted to talk to you.”
“You’re not disturbing me, Sage. Come in.” I should go to her. Perhaps escort her into the office, but I can’t. My legs don’t work, and it appears my brain has also short-circuited.
When she closes the door, I can't help the heat coursing through my veins. She approaches me, and a faint fragrance of apples invade my senses. It reminds me of a happy day I’d spent in an orchard with the woman I was convinced I would marry. And instead of being annoyed with Sage for bringing back that memory, I’m glad because I want to associate that scent with her. The sweet, lingering fragrance.
I want to revel in it. I ache to collapse with desire at her feet. To taste her skin. Shaking my head of the wayward thoughts, I nod. Gesturing to the chair. “Please sit down. What can I do for you?”
When I settle behind the desk, I meet her gaze. It’s filled with trepidation, then changes. “I know what happened this morning. It’s been weighing on me. On my mind. What you did in there. I did it as well.”
Her confessi
on startles me.
Wordless.
Senseless.
I’m so screwed.
Sage
He stares at me for so long. Too long.
The embarrassment heating my cheeks is too much to bear. The man I’ve been fantasizing about for months knows I’ve touched myself thinking of him. I planned to walk in here and beg him to take me, but the moment his green eyes pin me, I’m speechless.
I may be a naughty girl, but this time, I’m as nervous as I was the first time I kissed a boy. As if I’m thirteen again, and he’s just out of my league.
“I . . . ,” he mumbles, clearing his throat. “I don’t think you should be here. It’s better if you leave. I can’t . . . I don’t . . .” His denial burns with lies. I take a step forward and notice how his eyes trail from my ballet flats up my jean-clad legs until they reach my breasts. The top I’m wearing is loose-fitting, so I know he can’t see my hardened nipples. When he looks at me again, I smile.
“You can’t deny the pull. Do you disagree with what I feel? Were you not turned on by me earlier?” My question stills him for a moment before I feel the electric current in the air between us. Yes, it’s wrong to taunt him, but I can’t help myself. I settle on the chair opposite his desk, crossing one leg over the other, causing his gaze to drop to my legs once more.
He doesn’t respond, but those lust-filled orbs are glued to the curve of my form. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I’d be sitting here seducing the priest who’s been teaching us about living a Christian life for the past few months. The shepherd herding his flock. The only problem with this little lamb is she’s left the rest behind. She’s the black sheep.
I’ve never been a good girl. I never prayed like my mom and dad taught me to. And now, as I sit here, as wrong as it is, I’m wet for him. I want to be with him. Those eyes that remind me of a forest are deep green pools of need. The same emotions that match mine. The stubble darkening his jaw makes my mind race with images of his mouth on my core. My inner thighs tingling from the scratchy beard. His tousled chocolate hair that I’m dying to tangle my fingers through looks as if he’s been tugging at it.
