My Burning Desire by RK

Chapter 11

Janelle's POV

I’m still in a dazed, floating state of absolute awe. Mrs. Reed. The name echoes through my head like a sweet, impossible dream that somehow actually came true.

Just a week ago, I was his quiet, efficient assistant, guarding his schedule and keeping his chaotic corporate world from spinning off its axis. Now, my clothes are hanging in his closet, my life is completely tangled with his, and I am sitting squarely on his lap at thirty thousand feet, flying toward Italy as his wife.

Any lingering disbelief evaporates the second I shift against him.

Between my legs, I can feel him hardening, thick and demanding beneath his trousers, his body reacting to the mere friction of me straddling him. A shiver races down my spine, hot and electric, settling deep in my core.

He groans, a rough, guttural sound that vibrates right through me, and his hands slide down to grip the curve of my hips, holding me flush against him so I can feel every single inch of his arousal.

"You're doing that on purpose," he murmurs, his dark eyes burning into mine with a fierce, hungry intensity that makes my breath catch.

"Maybe," I murmur back, a breathless, teasing challenge slipping past my lips as I grind down just a fraction, feeling him twitch and swell in response. "What are you going to do about it, husband?"

Oliver’s eyes darken to nearly black. Any lingering pretense of civilized restraint shatters right there in the leather cabin seat.

"I'm going to ruin you for anyone else," he growls, his mouth crashing down onto mine in a rough, bruising kiss that steals the very air from my lungs.

His hands slide up under the hem of my dress, his palms skating over my thighs, heating my skin wherever he touches. The gentle, composed assistant I used to be feels like a lifetime away. Up here in the clouds, locked away with the man who claimed my heart and my life, I don't want to be sensible. I want to be entirely, recklessly consumed.

He pushes two fingers deep inside me without warning, sinking straight to the hilt as his mouth trails hot, scorching kisses down my throat.

A sharp, high-pitched gasp tears from my lips, muffled only by the collar of his shirt as my back arches instinctively against his hand. He’s already soaking wet with my arousal, and the smooth, effortless slide of his fingers hits a point so exquisitely sensitive inside me that my vision blurs at the edges.

"So wet for me," he murmurs against my skin, his voice a low, gravelly rasp that vibrates right against my pulse point.

He curls his fingers upward, pressing firmly against that swollen knot of nerves while his thumb strokes a heavy, steady rhythm against my c**t. The friction is immediate and overwhelming. I grip the shoulders of his jacket, my fingers bunching the fabric as my hips stutter helplessly against his hand, chasing the relentless pressure.

"Oliver—please," I breathe out, the command dissolving into a broken moan as the first bright, terrifying waves of an orgasm start tightening in my lower belly.

He doesn't let up. He drives his fingers deeper, matching the frantic, needy roll of my hips against his lap, feeding on the way I unravel completely in his arms. The steady hum of the jet engines fades into nothing, replaced entirely by the sound of our ragged breathing and the dizzying, soaring rush of coming completely undone thirty thousand feet in the air.

After my body finally calms down from the staggering intensity of my release, a soft tremor still echoing through my limbs, Oliver doesn't set me back down in my seat. Instead, his strong arms scoop me up completely, effortlessly standing me up against his chest as he carries me straight through the cabin toward the private bedroom at the back of the jet.

He kicks the heavy door shut behind us, locking out the world entirely, and sets me down on the edge of the plush bed.

Before I can even catch my breath, he steps in close, towering over me with a dark, predatory heat in his eyes.

"Come here, Mrs. Reed," he growls, the word dripping with an absolute, undeniable territorial claim.

His mouth crashes onto mine in a fierce, demanding kiss, setting off a spark that instantly reignites every nerve ending in my body. There is no gentleness left in him, and I don't want any. We are both moving frantically, our hands trembling as we strip away our clothes, tearing buttons, shoving jackets off shoulders, and kicking off shoes until we are completely bare and tangled together in a desperate, heated rush.

He cages me against the mattress, his heavy, muscular frame pressing me down into the sheets as his hands map every inch of my skin, reminding me all over again that I am his, heart and soul.

This time, when he positions himself at my entrance, the frantic, burning rush shifts into something infinitely more deliberate. He pushes himself into me slowly, an inch at a time, stretching me wide and filling me completely.

"Look at me," he commands, his voice dropping into a rough, commanding register that makes my chest tighten. "I want your eyes."

I lift my gaze, meeting his dark, burning stare. I don't try to hide it—I can't. I let him see right through me, exposing every ounce of love, devotion, and raw vulnerability I feel.

Once he’s fully buried inside me, the rhythm changes. This isn't the frantic, clothes-tearing desperation we shared a moment ago, driven by the sheer hunger to couple like it was our last breath. Now that he has me pinned beneath him, completely vulnerable and entirely his, it takes a deeper, more torturous turn.

He moves with agonizing slowness, each deliberate pull and push calculated to make me feel every single inch of him. The friction is exquisite, a slow burn that coils tight in my lower belly.

Looking up into his eyes, I catch a flash of something dark, possessive, and raw crossing his features—a heavy, overwhelming intensity that takes my breath away.

"Mine," he growls, the word a heavy, proprietary vow.

"Oliver... I need more, please," I beg, my hips twitching instinctively against his, chasing a friction he is deliberately withholding.

"Wife," he repeats like a mantra, his gaze locked onto mine, anchoring me to him.

He still doesn't speed up. Instead, he holds me suspended in that delicious, maddening agony, letting the heavy, deliberate strokes push me right to the edge. And as I feel the pressure building once again, deep and consuming, I...

He brings his mouth right to my ear, his breath hot against my sensitive skin, and whispers the words I’ve been secretly dying to hear.

"I love you."

"I love you," he repeats, pulling back just an inch as he parts from my ear. He trails a scorching path of kisses down my jaw, across my cheek, and over my lips, murmuring the words over and over like a sacred mantra branded directly onto my skin.

With every slow, deliberate thrust inside me, he breathes the confession into my body, anchoring every single inch of his claim to my heart.

The weight of it—the raw, absolute truth of his love pouring out of him while he holds me captive beneath him—shatters every remaining defense I have. A sob catches in my throat, tangled with a blinding wave of ecstasy, as my body clenches around him, completely and utterly undone.

My thighs tighten hard around his hips, a desperate, involuntary plea for him to let go, to move faster, to push us both over the edge as his words break every remaining piece of my control.

The confession of his love is a match tossed straight onto a powder keg, and my body instantly combusts.

Sensing the shift, Oliver’s pace changes. The agonizingly slow, deliberate torture snaps, replaced by deep, punishingly hard thrusts that slam into me with an intensity that steals the breath right from my lungs.

"That's it, wife," he growls against my lips, his own composure finally fracturing as he loses himself to the rhythm. "Take it all."

The friction is blinding. Every nerve ending in my body screams, tightening into a massive, spiraling coil of heat that snaps violently. A shattered cry breaks from my throat as a shattering orgasm crashes over me, wave after blinding wave tearing through my core.

Hearing me shatter pushes him over the edge. With a hoarse, ragged roar, Oliver drives deep inside me one last time, holding me flush against him as he follows me into the dark, staggering freefall of his own release.

As the heavy, breathless silence settles over the cabin and our racing pulses begin to slow, I roll onto my side, turning completely toward him. I cup his strong face in both hands, my thumbs brushing his cheekbones, and pull him in for a lingering, tender kiss before pulling back just enough to look straight into his eyes.

"You love me?" I ask, the words slipping out in a breathless, disbelieving whisper, still reeling from the weight of what he confessed.

Oliver cups my face right back, his calloused palms warm against my skin, his dark gaze locking onto mine with an unshakeable, absolute certainty.

"With all my heart," he answers, his voice thick and unwavering.

A heavy, emotional shudder ripples straight through me. Somehow, more than the breathtaking intensity of our coming together, more than the rings or the vows or the private jet cutting through the dark skies, that is what undoes me entirely. Knowing that this powerhouse of a man, who commands rooms and bends corporations to his will, feels this fierce, consuming devotion for me.

"You love me," I repeat, a wide, radiant smile breaking across my face as the tears of sheer happiness finally spill over my lashes.

Oliver’s expression softens into something profoundly tender, a rare, breathtaking smile touching his own lips as he presses his forehead against mine.

"From the very first day," he murmurs against my skin, pulling me flush back into his arms where I belong.

As I cuddle into the solid warmth of his chest, a sudden, unfamiliar wave of shyness washes over me. All the fierce, uninhibited passion from moments ago gives way to a quiet, breathless vulnerability.

I press my face against his skin, my fingers tracing slow circles over his heart, and whisper the words against him.

"I love you, too."

Oliver freezes for a microsecond before a low, rumbling chuckle vibrates right through his chest, wrapping around me like a blanket. His arms tighten instantly, pulling me so close there isn't a single millimeter of space left between us.

"I know," he murmurs, his lips pressing a lingering, reverent kiss into my hair. "And I'm never letting you go."

I close my eyes, listening to the steady, heavy beat of his heart beneath my cheek as the jet hums softly through the night. The rest of the world fades away entirely. Up here in the clouds, wrapped in his arms as his wife, I’ve finally found home.