The pilot puts the seatbelt sign off, which means I’m free to touch her however I want.
Deliberately, I haven’t done more than brush my hand against hers since we left the celebration.
I can feel the electricity between us growing. Hot, boiling, like water when it reaches its highest temperature.
I slowly unfasten my seatbelt, but when I go to stand, she shakes her head no.
“Wait here until I call you.”
I smile, even if I’m a little impatient. Still, I know that whatever she’s planning is going to be delicious.
Minutes later, just as she promised, she opens the bedroom door of the plane, wearing nothing but a silk robe. I instructed the flight attendants to give us privacy, and that’s why she’s acting so boldly.
I move toward her, already fully aroused. Jazmina is the only woman who can make me lose control like this.
Face to face, we stare at each other.
“You can choose the armchair or the bed,” she says, bold and very much in control of herself.
I mask a smile. Let’s see how long she can keep up this dominant act. I know my wife, even with her fire and temper, is submissive during sex.
To my surprise, she goes to the remote control and turns on the music. A memory comes rushing back. The song reminds me of what was playing the day I saw her dancing on top of the table on Vicenzzo’s yacht.
What are you up to, Jazmina?
She opens the robe, and my jaw drops.
“I’m a princess of a thousand and one nights, and I’ve never danced for you, my husband.”
She’s wearing a skirt full of veils and a bustier that leaves her entire abdomen exposed. It’s covered in small sparkling stones and barely conceals her beautiful breasts.
I’m no expert on the Middle East, but I know this outfit is typical of odalisques.
I stand up again.
“What are you doing?” she asks when she sees me taking off my clothes—shoes and socks—leaving only my boxer briefs.
“Getting comfortable. If you’re going to dance for me, I want to enjoy the experience properly.”
She blushes, and I love her mix of wickedness and modesty.
I sit and wait. “I’m ready for you, wife. Use me as you wish.”
“You can’t touch me until I allow it, or I’ll forget the dance,” she says, hands on her hips. “You’re irresistible to me.”
Damn it. She seems to know exactly what to say to drive me crazy.
I devour every inch of her body with my eyes.
From her bare feet to her thighs barely covered by the veils, her belly where she carries our child, the breasts I intend to suck on all night long, and finally, her angelic face.
“I don’t want to rush you, love, but if you expect me to keep my promise of staying still and only watching, be quick.” My voice comes out harsh, rough, because not touching Jazmina is almost painful.
As if she’s affected too, consumed by the same fever, she starts to dance.
“Do you know the name of this performance?” she asks, perhaps trying to keep some control over herself.
“No.” Not a single brain cell of mine is working right now. I’m pure instinct, and all of it is locked on her. On the sway of her hips.