I know how I must sound when I complain about my marriage. My own mother thinks I'm being melodramatic. When she first met Cameron, he charmed her immediately. Of course he did. It didn't hurt that he took us to a ridiculously posh restaurant. I stabbed at my overpriced salad as he asked her for every detail about my childhood and looked positively enthralled as she told him my most embarrassing stories.
"He's awfully sweet," she said to me in the powder room. "And he's obviously crazy about you."
"It's weird, though, right?" I answered as I fished my lipstick out of my clutch. "No man is that attentive."
"Tessa," she said to my reflection, "are you honestly finding fault with that? If your father had been even half that attentive...." She shook her head as her voice trailed off. "I think you're just looking for things to worry about."
"Do you know what happens when I talk with another man at a party?"
"He gets jealous. So what? It's flattering, isn't it?"
"We leave the party, Mom. He pulls me out of there and fucks me in the car on the way home."
"I'll pretend I didn't hear that."
"I know. Sorry," I rolled my eyes. "I just miss being normal at parties."
"Still, if that's the worst of your worries—"
"It's not," I cut her off. "But who gives a shit, right?"
"Don't get like that, honey," she said. "Just try to focus on the good stuff, okay?"
Focus on the good stuff. It's the mantra that echoes in my brain as Cameron leads me to the airstair of his plane. His hand didn't leave my thigh as he drove me to the airport.
"Are you feeling okay, baby?" His hand is at my back as he guides me up the steps.
I watch my feet move gingerly up the steps. Am I feeling okay? Various answers, mostly snarky, come to mind: yeah, I'm feeling great, honey. I love being hunted down and basically kidnapped by my own husband.... I finally turn to him. "I just need to sleep," I mumble.
"Of course." He nods to our flight attendant, Katia, as we enter the cabin. I hear him instruct her to bring me some cheese and fruit. "You'll sleep better with some food in your stomach," he says quietly, turning back to me.
The truth is that I am kind of hungry. I make quick work of the small platter as the jet prepares for takeoff. The moment it's safe to move, I look inquisitively at Cameron.
"I'll join you in a few minutes," he says, grabbing his phone. "Just have to answer a few messages."
I nod and get unsteadily to my feet. Cameron grabs my hand. "I'm still fucking mad at you for running away from me," he says, pressing his lips against my fingers.
"I know." Tears threaten to break because I hate him. Because I love him. Because a part of me is beyond hate and love. I walk back to the bedroom, strip down to my bra and panties, and slide between the cool sheets. I make a mental list of people he's texting and calling. Sokolov. His investigator. Some lackey whose job it is to call Bertie and tell her I'm not dead. As I add more names to the list, sleep overtakes me.
****
I'm dimly aware of a hot tickle between my thighs, but it's the sound of my own moan that wakes me. Sleeping next to Cameron has conditioned my body to wake up before my mind does. I blink and look up at the ceiling of the plane, remembering where I am. Then I feel Cameron's tongue press against my clit again, and I reflexively press my body against his mouth.
He groans appreciatively and gives the top of my slit a teasing lick. "I couldn't stop myself, baby."
I push up on my elbows and look at him. He has nudged my thighs apart and pushed the crotch of my panties to the side. "You never could," I answer.
"No, I never could." He looks down at my pussy so reverently that I blush. As his tongue delves so deeply into my pussy that I don't know how he's breathing, I squeal.
This is not the first time Cameron has gone down on me while I'm asleep. At one point in our marriage, he did it so many nights in a row that I began to fear I'd never know uninterrupted sleep again. Sometimes he fucked me after making me come on his tongue; sometimes he just kissed me, his lips glazed with my juices, and held me until I drifted off.
Cameron's tongue flicks at my clit. I moan hoarsely, my voice shot from screaming over the music at the club just hours ago. I reach down and pull his hair hard; my thighs tighten around his head. He's going to make me come despite my fatigue, despite my anger, despite everything. His breath is so damn hot on my overstimulated pussy. He reaches up and squeezes my breast through the lined cup of my bra. It's not enough for him: he pulls the cup down and rolls the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. The combustion of sensations sends me over the edge. I cry out and pray that Katia can't hear me over the roar of the jet engine. God, I hope she's asleep.
Cameron looks up at me. Even under the dim lights, I can see the sheen of my wetness on his lips. "So goddamned responsive," he says hoarsely. His eyes drift over my body, and I try not to think how tragic I must look: smeared makeup, rumpled hair, and one breast exposed. If you had told me earlier today that I'd end up naked in the back of my husband's jet, I don't know whether I would have laughed or cried.
However ghastly I think I look, Cameron seems hypnotized. "I know you're tired, baby," he says, kneeling on the foot of the bed. I wriggle up toward the pillows as he looms over me. "I'm just so fucking wound up." He yanks down the other cup of my bra and flicks both nipples between his thumbs until I'm writhing like a woman who didn't just come literally two minutes before. Jesus, has any woman ever capitulated as quickly as I do?
My breath is coming quickly from the orgasm and from the way he's making my nipples hard. His palms cover the taut peaks, and he watches my tits press together as he plays with them. "I want to fuck them," he says, still staring at them.
"I know you do."
"Yeah? Do you want that, baby?"
It doesn't matter how I answer because he's already unzipping his fly.
"Lie back," he says, pressing my shoulders against the mattress. I watch him pump his fist over his erection a few times as he straddles his way up my body. I bring my hands to the sides of my breasts and push until they're snug around his cock. "Jesus Christ," he hisses. "If you knew"—he begins thrusting—"how many times I thought about your tits...." His voice trails off as he covers my hands with his and moves faster.
"It gets me so hot when you touch them," I say breathily, knowing it will speed his orgasm.
He groans and swears under his breath.
"When you suck on them," I sigh, seizing the moment. I see the muscles of his mouth twitch. The fact is that I'm turned on, too; it's the way he's watching his cock move between my tits and the way he's responding to my voice. But I'm also exhausted. I need him to finish before I succumb to sleep. "When you come all over them."
"You want my come, baby?" His voice is thick and urgent.
"Yes," I whimper. "Give it to me, Cameron."
That does it. He releases my hands and pumps his fist a few times. I can't help but moan as the first spray of come lands across my breasts. I feel it begin trickling up toward my neck as another load splatters hotly on my chest. His eyes dart between my lips and the mess he's made on my body. I smile sleepily at him.
Cameron dips two fingers in his come and brings them to my mouth. I open my lips obediently and swirl my tongue around his fingers until they're clean. He swears, and I feel a little more come land between my tits. His fingers rub back and forth across my bottom lip.
