Wanna see the super hot cover and an explicit excerpt for The Bride?
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We buckled in for take-off, and once we were safely in the air and had the all-clear, we unbuckled and headed to the rear compartment.
“No bed?” I asked, trailing my fingers over the tabletop between the two rows of inward facing seats.
“I don’t think we need one.” Neil unbuttoned the sleeves of his chambray shirt to roll them back. It struck me that he was dressed pretty much the way he’d been the day we’d met, except that beneath the open outer shirt, his tee sported the red, white, and blue target logo of The Who. That day at the airport seven years ago, he’d had on a David Bowie tour shirt. I wondered if he always equated classic rock acts of the seventies with air travel.
“I have a game in mind,” he continued, sliding the pocket door closed. There was a little latch on it, and he flicked it down. “Are you interested?”
“Then get naked and get your ass on that table.”
“Yes, Sir!” As I readily complied with his order, he took something out of a seat pocket. A deck of cards. So, it really was a game.
“Is something funny?” he asked, a delicious hint of warning in his tone as he slid smoothly into his role as my Dom.
I shook my head. “No, Sir. Just anticipation.”
“If you enjoy anticipation, then you’ll very much enjoy this game.” He slid the cards from their box and shuffled them between his big hands. He waited until I was completely naked and sitting primly on the edge of the table, then he said, “Slide back, bring your knees up, and spread them. If you’d put your heels on the corners of the table, that would be ideal.”
“But then I’ll be wide open, Sir,” I teased, slowly pushing back and lifting my feet up to rest where he’d indicated. There was such a naughty thrill at being completely naked in a situation where people normally weren’t naked. I mean, I’d never seen anyone so exposed on an intercontinental flight before. Maybe I’d been on the wrong planes.
“While I explain the rules, I’d like you to stroke your clitoris. One finger only, no penetration,” he added sternly.
I slipped my middle finger into my mouth and held his gaze as I sucked it down to the knuckle. When I pulled it out, it was shiny with my saliva, and I reached between my legs to do as he’d instructed.
He pulled a card from the deck and held it up. It was a seven of clubs. “Clubs, denial.”
I took a shaky breath. We’d played games with my orgasms before. It was my most– and least– favorite activity.
He plucked another card from the center of the deck, glanced at it, put it back, and pulled another. Ace of spades. “Spades, ruined.”
Ruined orgasms were the worst. But they made every one that came after them so much more intense, because it took longer to get there.
“Sir?” I asked. “Do the number values on the cards have any bearing, or are we just going by the suits?”
He considered a moment. “Which would you prefer?”
I thought about how frustrating a ten of spades would be, and decided, “Let’s just go with the suits.”
“Numbers for another time, perhaps?” he suggested with a lascivious smirk. He pulled another card. “Diamonds–”
“Mean I can come?” The hot flush of arousal that pulsed between my legs intensified at the word.
“Mean that I decide the action.” He stepped between my legs and traced the edge of the card from my knee to my ankle. “I’ll give you a command, and you’ll obey.”
“That sounds like just another day at the office,” I challenged him.
He moved the edge of the card down the slope of my thigh, over my hip and stomach, between my breasts, up to my throat. He dropped the card and gripped my jaw, the rough touch sending darts of desire through me. “Do you want a spanking?”
I lifted my leg and rubbed my toes across the front of his jeans. “Always.”
He grinned down at me and leaned in for a languid kiss. I savored his mouth on mine, darted my tongue along his lower lip. He released my face and sank his fingers into the hair at my nape. My leg caught between us as he pressed me back. I rubbed my clit in slow circles, the shocks of pleasure there echoed by the delicious tingling in my lips and tongue. When he pulled back, I flexed my foot, feeling the thickness of his erection through his jeans.
With a maddening half-smile, he picked the cards up again and shuffled them, then withdrew one. “Hearts mean you’re allowed to orgasm. Do you understand the rules of the game?”
I nodded, my breathing increasing in tempo to match my rising desire. “I understand, Sir.”
He put the cards down on the table between my legs, and drew one from the top. A heart.
I thought he would be disappointed that his game had so quickly rewarded me. If he was, I saw no sign of it as he brushed my hand away from my mound and spread my labia to expose my engorged, throbbing clit. He pinched it between his thumb and forefinger, and dropped to his knees to give me a long, slow lick.
I groaned and leaned back on my elbows, letting my head fall back. My hair hung loose, brushing my shoulders, and I sighed happily as Neil’s lips closed over me. He rolled my clit between his fingers while he lapped and sucked at it with his tongue, and I squirmed against his mouth. After a year together, he knew everywhere I needed to be touched. He could get me off almost as fast as I could get myself off, which made sense, since he’d studied me doing it enough. I whimpered at the intensity that built without faltering, and, mindful that we weren’t alone on the plane, I breathed deep through my nose to keep from moaning.
He slipped a finger into me, and I clutched on him, rocking my hips against his face. He found my g-spot like he’d grown up in the neighborhood, and my fingers curled against the polished wood tabletop. My calves cramped and my thighs hugged his head. I managed to subdue myself to a low groan as I climaxed.
He withdrew his finger, but kept the other hand busy on my overstimulated clit as I panted and tried to wriggle away. He took another card and held it up, and my brain registered that it was a spade even as I climbed toward a second orgasm, one I would be cruelly denied at the last possible second. Neil had ruining an orgasm down to a science. My pussy clenched, the sharp edge of pleasure twisting tighter and tighter, and just when I thought I would come, just when I desperately wanted it, he pulled his hand away.
“No, don’t!” I begged, but I didn’t say “red,” the word I used when I really wanted to stop our games, so he didn’t give in.
He laughed low and said, “Oh, Sophie. Begging for mercy? Have we met?”
I ground my teeth together as he reached between my legs and rubbed me with the tips of his fingers; it was like I’d already had an orgasm, though I hadn’t felt it. “When are you going to draw another fucking card?”
That earned me a quick, sharp slap to my vulva, and I hissed at the pain.
“Talk to me like that again and you’ll get worse,” he warned, and my body throbbed in response. It was almost worth it to sass him again, just to see what “worse” meant.
He drew another card, and this time it was a diamond. He got to pick the next action, though I had an idea what it would be.
“Lie on your back, hang your head over the table.”
I smiled to myself as I did as he ordered, maneuvering into position so that the base of my skull tipped back at the edge of the tabletop. I spread my legs wide and planted my feet on the seats on either side of the table.
Unbuckling his belt, he stepped up close. I suppressed a giggle as he pulled his erection free and tapped the massive head of it against my lips; I’d been right, I had known what he wanted. I opened wide and took him in, undulating my tongue against the top of his shaft and opening my throat as the head of him passed my gag reflex.
He growled appreciatively, his hands bracketing my stretched neck. “Touch yourself while I’m fucking your throat.”
Well, when my Sir commands…
I had never tried any drug, any drink, any experience that made me feel the way sexual submission to Neil made me feel. Every sight, scent, taste, texture was like gasoline on my already burning body; the hard, cool tabletop against my back was a caress, the familiar smell of his skin a potent aphrodisiac. I wanted to please him, above all else, and I knew that in pleasing him, I would have pleasure, myself. So, even though the flesh between my legs ached and touching my clit felt like brushing against an electrical current, I did as he ordered.
Slowly, he withdrew, and a flood of my saliva sputtered out around his cock. He groaned and pushed back in, and I half-gagged, half-moaned, humping my hips against my hand as I got closer and closer to the edge of another orgasm. I needed this one. I was miserably turned-on and still disappointed from having my release spoiled before. When I could breathe, I whimpered tight, high-pitched mewls around his cock. The building shock of my anticipation locked my legs rigidly against the table.
“Oh no, Sophie. You won’t like this one.”
My heart dropped to my stomach. I sped my fingers, but he grabbed my wrists. It was his dumb luck that he got my hands away from my body just as I reached the peak, and though I humped frantically at the air, there was nothing— no extra little nudge— that could bring me over the edge. My muscles ached from straining up, straining against his hold, and a tear leaked from the corner of my eye. I tried to beg him– “No, no, no, please!”– but my words didn’t make it past the thick column of his cock impaling my throat, and I sputtered and gagged.
He pulled out gently, and brushed a tear away from my eye. “Where are we, Sophie?”
I sniffled and tried to ignore my aching clit. What he was doing to me was torture… and I loved every demented moment of it. There was no way in hell I was stopping. “We’re still green, Sir.”
He tucked himself away and drew another card. He looked at it, frowned, and flipped it over between his fingers to show me the image on the reverse.
“What does the joker do?”
“We never set a value on the joker,” he said with a note of dismay. “I suppose I’ll have to think of something.”