Chapter 11
DEVIN
It’s torture being this close to my bride and unable to touch her. Not only are we not on a flight where we can sit right next to each other, but there’s an emotional wall in place I cannot seem to penetrate. I look over to where Jessica glances about, her eyes wide as she takes in her little pod.
I’m guessing this is her first time flying first class. At least first class is nice. Seems as if I’m bestowing a lot of firsts onto my little omega. Part of me can’t wait to see what other new experiences I can spoil her with, but first we have to at least be able to meet in the middle.
A soft chuckle slips past my lips as she presses on various buttons. She’s like a kid in a toy store—not sure which thing to play with first. The near silent squeak as she finally presses the button to close the doors has me stifling a laugh.
Though I think I do a good job covering it up, I apparently didn’t do it fast enough. Jessica gives me a glare as the doors continue to close in slow increments until her face is gone. Perhaps it’s best to give her these hours to herself. It’s going to be a long flight as it is .
A longing thrums through me as I look across the aisle separating us. Perhaps I should have booked regular or business class seats. Maybe then she’d be forced to be next to me instead of able to squirrel away and hide. Damn me for wanting to make this excursion something special.
I’m paying for it in a way I never expected. It’s not as if I was planning on molesting her while we were flying. Tease her a little, maybe. Sexually frustrate the hell out of her, definitely. Now, I can’t do anything but look at the closed doors.
We haven’t even negotiated our dynamic in a way where I feel comfortable ordering her to keep the doors open.
If we had, there’d be a whole hell of a lot more I’d have her do for me and to herself at my command.
Maybe I should push my luck and strike up the conversation as soon as she opens the doors.
Closing my eyes, I rest my head against the plush pillow and sigh, a worried frown pulling my brows down until a dull ache pounds behind my eyes. How did it go so wrong so quickly? When I kissed her, I felt the arousal pulsing through her body. But when I mentioned Greece, she froze.
Could Angie have been that wrong? She claimed to be a friend.
Or at least an acquaintance who should know something about my new wife.
Shaking my head, I pull out my phone and send Kessily a text.
If only I knew earlier who I’d be with. Then I could have gotten all the intel I needed from a reputable source.
Soon, she responds, but all it does is make my head ache even more. Angie wasn’t wrong. It’s not Greece. Apparently visiting Santorini has been a bucket list item of Jessica’s ever since Kessily knew her. Then what else could it be?
Is it because I insisted on stopping by her apartment to change first? I thought she’d love to get out of the formal dress and into something a bit more casual for the trip. However, since the moment I crossed the threshold, she’s been even more sullen and drawn in.
None of this makes any sense, and my gut tells me if I pry too soon, it will do nothing but back her into a corner even more. It’s as if she’s a wounded animal and she sees me as a predator. My lips part into a feral smile at that thought.
I am a predator, but not one who actually wants to make her suffer. If she’d only talk to me, she’d know that. Granted, all of this is as sudden for her as it is for me. Perhaps she just can’t handle the stress of things moving so quickly.
Another ding pulls my attention back to the phone, and this time I manage to keep the laughter at bay. Seems as if my little newb is stuck and cannot open her door. It does make me happy to know she’s not hiding away from me on purpose.
With all the buttons in front of her, I can just imagine the panic at not being able to find the correct one. Pocketing my phone, I wait for the announcement to come on that we’re allowed to roam around the plane. The instant I’m able to, I head over to her little cabin and knock on the door.
“Kessily told me you’re stuck.”
“It’s not funny,” her muffled voice flits through in a sullen huff.
Closing my eyes, I rest my head against the door and hold back the laugher threatening to rise to the surface. I can almost see her in there, sulking like an errant brat. However, as much as I want to take her in hand, I need to get her to open the door first.
I shake my head and pull away, keeping my tone as neutral as possible. “No one said it was. ”
“I can hear it in your voice!” This time, she’s a little louder, as if possibly screaming.
This won’t do. Making a scene will only make matters worse. Dropping my voice into ‘Dom mode,’ I lean in closer so nothing I say is missed. “Keep acting like that, and I’m definitely going to laugh at you.”
Small vents near my face pop open, revealing a set of wide eyes blinking at me. “You shouldn’t laugh at people.”
“If you don’t want people laughing, then you shouldn’t be acting like a brat,” I counter.
She slumps down, disappearing from view. “I’m not acting like a brat.” Again, her tone turns sullen—a clear hallmark of a brat in need of taming.
“Your petulant tone begs to differ,” I counter, willing my erection to flag.
The last thing I need is a hard-on while trying to coax my skittish bride out of her enclosure. It’s hard enough to think when her scent coats me from the inside out.
Again, she pops back up, her gaze blazing. “It’s not petulant!”
“Wanna try that again?” I raise my eyebrow at her, the Dom in me stirring to the forefront once more.
I’m more than happy to give her space, if that’s what’s needed. What I will not do is allow her to continue acting like this without giving me just cause.
“Sorry, Master,” she whispers, her gaze lowering to the floor.
My cock surges up again as arousal strangles my brain. It must have been my tone. I certainly wasn’t expecting her to use my honorific from last night. Does this mean she’s far more receptive to being my slave than we both originally thought ?
Maybe beneath this icy veneer, what she really needs is for me to take her in hand. Could I really have been that blind? Should I have just taken her over my knee and spanked her the moment her mood shifted?
No. There’s no way that would have helped anything. I am, however, filing this interaction away for future study. Craning my neck forward, I look past her submissive stance to the buttons I can see.
“Press that red one. See what it does.”
All traces of submission leave as she glares up at me and plants her hands on her hips. “Don’t you think I tried that? It’s the button that closed the damn doors to begin with.”
Taking in a deep breath, I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I understand that. But I want to see what it does. Nothing more. Nothing less. I’m not calling your intelligence into question.”
The look she gives me seems doubtful, but she does what I tell her to do. Nothing. Not even a hint of gears grinding to work. Odd. Stepping back over to my side, I press the button and wait as the doors close.
Pressing it again, they open without a hitch. “Try holding the button for five seconds then press it again. Maybe there’s a lock feature we don’t know about?”
I wait as she fumbles about, but still nothing. “I don’t know what else to do,” she wails, panic lacing her tone.
The sound claws at my chest as I stand outside, helpless. My one job is to protect her, and yet, I’m already failing. More than that, we haven’t even gotten to Greece yet and I can’t make her happy.
“Hold tight. I’m going to get a flight attendant.”
“Right,” she grumbles. “As if I have anywhere else to go.”
My fingers clench as I press against the vents. “I’m sure you’re going through something right now, but I will not allow this disrespect to go on any longer. I have no problem spanking you on this plane, if that’s what you need.”
Her face turns red, but she remains silent. “Is that what you need?” I goad her, my voice raspy with need. “Would a good spanking to set things right?”
“No, Master.” Her voice is soft, barely a whisper, but I hear her.
My soul hears her words and the longing hidden within them. She needs something all right. But not until we get to the resort. If only this flight wasn’t so damned long. If only I had the time to book a private plane instead. Then none of this would have been an issue.
Thankfully, the flight attendant is able to get her door open with ease. The bad news is that it’s a malfunction. Now, instead of being right across from me, she’s a few rows down where I can’t even see her.
Some start to a honeymoon. Storming my way over to the bar, I get a shot of bourbon for myself and a juice for Jessica. I have no clue what she likes, what she doesn’t like, what she drinks, eats, or anything. Stopping short, my brain threatens to short-circuit.
How in the hell am I supposed to make it work with a complete stranger? The only thing we really have in common is our sexual appetite and proclivities. Granted, she’ll probably deny it with her dying breath.
Walking over to her little booth, I stop short as I watch her looking at her phone. She doesn’t seem to see me yet. Her shoulders hunch up around her ears as sorrow drifts off of her, souring the air.
Who could be texting her? Is it her mother?
Seeing as I know nothing about her family except what the officiant said, it stands to reason her mother is making her miserable about this.
The moment we’re back in the states, I’m going to insist on meeting them so they can know once and for all Jessica’s happiness comes first. Even with them.
When I hunch down to hand her the juice, she jumps and turns off her screen. An odd niggle of suspicion slithers down my brain, but I refuse to allow it to take hold. We’re just now at a point where we can learn about each other. It wouldn’t help to allow my emotions to get the better of me.