Chapter 29
As I expected, she threw her temptress skills at me left and right when we got back to her parents’ last night. So I gagged her and fucked her as delicately as I could.
And the Quiet Fuck was born.
I can’t wait to get her to Paradise so she can scream to her heart’s content. Not that’ll I’ll fuck her hard. Nope. Gently does it.
We left the in-laws early and got on the road, just Ava and me, and that’s how it’ll be for the next few days. Blissful.
“Shit,” Ava says out of the blue, jarring me, as I head for the private hangar.
Blissful? Maybe if I wash her mouth out with soap and water. “Ava, mouth,” I grumble, looking across at her as she dives into her handbag. “What’s up?”
She reaches for the door as I take a left, throwing me a scowl. “Will you take it easy?”
“There’s no place you’re safer than in a car with me.” I scan the road ahead for the turning, slowing. “What’s the matter?”
“My passport. I’ve left my passport in my box of junk.” She continues to scratch through her bag. Don’t know why. She just said herself it’s in her box of junk. So it’s a damn good thing I’m the organized one in this marriage.
“No, you haven’t,” I say, retrieving it from the safety of the glovebox. “But you have forgotten to get your name changed, Miss O’Shea.”
She smiles and takes it. “So I’m traveling a single?”
“Shut up, Ava.” Why does she choose words she knows will rub me up the wrong way? Because she wouldn’t be Ava otherwise. I ignore her brief chuckle and pull to a stop, slipping out and looking at the jet over my shades as I round the car, smiling.
“Mr. Ward, welcome,” Vincent says, appearing from the hangar with the captain, paperwork in his hands.
“Morning, Vincent. Good to see you.” I nod to the captain, who politely nods back as I open the car door. “Come on.” I take Ava’s passport and hand it over with mine, giving Vincent a signature before popping the boot so our luggage can be carried on.
When I return to Ava, she’s still in the car appearing bewildered. “Are you going to sit there all day, lady?” I ask, helping her out.
“What’s that?” She frowns past me, and I look back on an unsure smile.
“That’s a plane,” I say, leading on and taking the steps up, smiling at the flight attendant—her name escapes me. But I’ve seen her around the rooms of The Manor, along with the captain. Seen her in my bed. Best not mention that to Ava.
I can already feel resistance between our joined hands. Is she afraid of flying? “Ava?” I ask when she stops outside the jet.
“I’m not getting on that thing.”
I notice her chest is pumping. She is. She’s afraid. I don’t recall her ever saying she has a fear of flying. In fact, I distinctly remember her demanding I take her somewhere hot and on a plane.
“Of course you are.” I try to encourage her onward, but she’s firm in her stance, her eyes full of fear. Not a fan. I’m forced to step back out of the plane when she retreats. “Ava, you’ve never said you’re scared of flying.”
“I’m not,” she says, only confusing me more. “I like big planes. Why are we not going on a big plane? Why can’t we go on one of those?” she asks, pointing to a commercial aircraft.
“Because they’re probably not going where we need them to.” I go to her, crowding her body, which is smaller than it usually is, her uncertainty seeming to shrink her. “It’s perfectly safe.” I turn her face back to me so she can see my reassurance.
“It doesn’t look safe.” She eyes the jet. “It looks too small.”
“Ava.” I soften my voice. My eyes. My face. “This is me, your possessive, unreasonable, over-protective control freak.” I’m humoring her, obviously. “Do you really think I’d willingly put you in danger?” I drop a pacifying kiss on her face.
“I feel a little nervous.”
No shit.“Answer my question.”
“No,” she sighs. “I don’t.”
“Good,” I say, taking her shoulders and guiding her on. “You’ll love it, trust me.”
“Good morning,” the attendant says, her eyes interested. She’ll have heard. Everyone will have heard. Married. Pregnant. Hopefully those two significant things will deter any inappropriate behavior that may have my hormonal wife throwing the attendant out of the jet without a parachute.
I walk Ava to one of the chairs and help her down, fixing her seatbelt. Lowering to the chair opposite, I sit and rest Ava’s feet to my lap. Swollen ankles are a real thing. I’ll have to rub her feet the entire flight.
“Champagne, sir?”
Kimberly. Her name is Kimberly. And by the look on her face, marriage and babies isn’t an issue. But of course. She’s a member of my fine manor. And, really, I wouldn’t have the first idea of her relationship status, although I suspect the captain features somewhere in her life, and not in a professional capacity.
“Just water.” I flick her a stoic face. A warning face. I think she gets the message if her prompt escape and falling smile are a measure. I remove Ava’s shoes and start rubbing her feet. “Okay?”
“Not really.” Surprisingly, she appears oblivious to Kimberly’s obvious friendliness, her attention pointed out of the window. “There were regular flights available, weren’t there?”
“I don’t know, I didn’t check,” I admit. “We don’t do commercial, Ava.”
“You don’t. I do,” she mutters. “I haven’t got swollen feet yet, you know.”
Prevention is better than cure. “Close your eyes,” I order, seeing Kimberly on her way back with our water. Ava sighs and settles, her petite body sinking into the huge leather seat, my thumbs rubbing firm circles in the soles of her feet. I nod at the table, prompting Kimberly to set the drinks down without a word, then I focus on Ava, watching a small smile creep onto her face. She’s thinking of me. I’m not being presumptuous.
I get comfortable, hearing the door being closed, but I don’t take my attention off Ava. I love watching her. I love wondering what’s running through her mind. I love rubbing her feet, seeing her lashes flutter. Her breathing deepen. Her chest rise and fall. I know she’s out for the count when her chin drops slightly.
My gaze falls to her stomach, the corner of my mouth twitching. Watching her belly grow with our babies is going to be incredible. My future will be filled with nothing but amazing things. And my past is full of horror.
Don’t look back.
“Don’t look back,” I whisper, sinking deeper into the seat. She’s with me, and London is far behind us. Our troubles are far behind us.
For now.
The jet starts moving smoothly toward the runway, and we’re soon speeding down it, the glorious weightless feeling coming over me. She doesn’t stir once. Dreaming. Sleeping for fucking England again. I just can’t see how work is an option for her at the moment. It seems the second she sits or lies down, she dozes off. I pull the camera up on my phone and snap a picture of her sleeping.
“Can I get you anything, Mr. Ward?” Kimberley asks, hovering over my seat.
“Just more water, thanks,” I reply, and she’s soon placing two glasses down. “There will be nothing else.” This will be the easiest flight she’s worked on. I want nothing. Just peace.
I lift Ava’s foot to my lips and lick her instep, chuckling when she shifts in her seat, eyes still closed. My tongue drags across to her toe. Her leg stiffens and one eye opens.
“Dreaming?”
“Of you,” she breathes, settling again. “Tell me when we take off so I can put my head between my legs.”
“I’ll put my head between your legs.” I nip her toe, feeling her tremble.
“Just tell me.”
“Look out the window, baby,” I say softly, watching as she leans up and checks. She gasps lightly and looks around. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“And miss the sounds and looks you were making?” I kiss her toes and place her feet back down. There’s too much space between us. “Come here.” Reaching for her, I undo her belt and help her across to me, getting her comfortable on my lap. “Go back to sleep and dream of me, lady.”
She settles, and I relax back, my head falling to the side to look out of the window. Paradise. It’s been years since I’ve been. The risk of bumping into people I didn’t want to see was too high. I never dared take a break at my villa. It would have been too lonely on my own. Too secluded. No sex.
Now? Seclusion is just what we need.
I fasten the belt around us and rest my head on her, closing my eyes, feeling content and settled. There’s something special about falling asleep together. The closeness. The equal vulnerability.
And now as we fly away from the UK to another country, I can say, hand on heart, I feel the most relaxed I’ve ever felt.
It’s going to be a hard feeling to let go of.