⭐COMPLETE⭐
Book 2 in the 'Our Secret Dream' Trilogy.
Follow Skylar and Bryan as they continue their journey together. Learning not only how to progress as a potentially engaged couple but how to have fun and still enjoy their careers with all of th...
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Thirty minutes later our town car pulls up out side of our hotel.
Our bodies still pressed tightly against each other in the back seat. Still flushed with beads of sweat dripping between us.
The driver climbs out of the car before walking around to gather our cases from the boot. His focus never turning away from his task. I'm not even sure if he heard us from behind the black divider. Even if he did I didn't care.
Still reeling from the intensity of our make out, I heave a deep breath into my lungs before unbuckling the seatbelt and sliding of his lap and into my earlier seat.
Loud pants fill the air around us as, locking us into a trace state of pent up arousal. The intensity of our desire for each other building and building with every pacing minute.
'We should make a move.' I pant. Looking out his window at our driver who is patiently waiting for us with our bags on the side of the walkway. I make a mental note to send him a big tip online later.
He nods his head before lowering a hand to the crotch of his pants, rearranging himself. The action goes straight to my throbbing pussy, he's so fucking hard for me.
He opens the car door pushing it as wide as it goes before climbing out. He strokes out his suit before doing up the single button, the movement of the blazer being done up highlights his body, my mouth dries.
He holds his hand out for me as he waits for me to slide across the back seats. Trying my best not to flash him or anyone else in the process. Perhaps wearing a very short skirt wasn't my smarties idea but since when has smart been in the same sentence when it comes to seduction? As heat coats my cheeks I shuffle my skies down my thighs making sure all my goods are covered before twisting around and placing my feet down on the ground. I lean down to the footwell and pick up my handbag before placing my hand in his and getting to me feet. Taking a step closer to him.
'Où voudriez-vous vos sacs, monsieur?' Our driver asks my husband. His gaze firmly locked on his just like it had been the moment we'd met.
Seems he has some sort of complex about not making eye contact with another mans woman. Which my husband loved whilst I found it fucking rude. I hated being treated different just because of my gender but here we are. I can't hand it against my husband because if I could stop women talking or acknowledging him then I'm sure I'd relish in it too...
I watch them in silence as my husband answers him in his own tongue. Fuck. I never realised how sexy it is to listen to him speak in another language, especially when it's the language of love - that's french right? Or is it Italian?.
