The next morning - it’s honeymoon time

The next morning, the sun peeked through the hotel curtains, casting a soft glow on their wedding night memories. Felicity stretched languidly, feeling a delicious ache between her thighs. James lay next to her, his arms wrapped possessively around her waist. He nuzzled her neck, whispering sweet nothings that made her blush, and reminding her of the night before.

After a quick shower, they both got ready for their flight to their honeymoon location. She reached for the outfit he had picked for her to wear on the flight—tiny denim shorts and a white tank top that barely contained her breasts. The fabric was thin, and she knew without a doubt that her hardened nipples would be visible in the air conditioning of the plane.

The drive to the airport was a blur of excitement and nerves. The anticipation of what the next few days would bring had her stomach in knots. As they boarded the plane, James's hand on her lower back was firm, guiding her to their first-class seats. Felicity could feel the eyes on her as they walked down the aisle, the whispers and glances from the other passengers making her skin tingle. She had never felt so exposed, so desired.

Once seated, she tugged at the hem of her shorts, trying to make them longer. The fabric barely covered her ass, and she was certain that anyone walking by would see the purple lace of her thong peeking out.

The tank top clung to her chest, the slightest movement revealing the outline of her erect nipples and the fabric showing hints of the purple bra beneath. She felt a thrill of fear and excitement at the thought of being so openly sexual in public.

The first-class cabin grew dim as the lights were lowered, and James leaned over to whisper in her ear, "You look like a fucking snack." His breath was warm, sending shivers down her spine. He laid the blanket across her lap, his hand lingering longer than necessary.

James’ hand never completely withdrew, instead sliding under the blanket and onto her thigh. Felicity's heart raced as she felt his fingers trace the line of her thigh, inching closer to her pussy with every passing second. The anticipation was unbearable, but she didn't dare move. The thrill of being so close to the edge of scandal was a powerful aphrodisiac. The flight attendant approached, offering them champagne. James took a glass and handed it to her, his eyes never leaving hers as she sipped. The bubbles danced on her tongue, mimicking the sensations that his touch stirred in her.

Once the attendant left, James’ hand resumed its journey, reaching the apex of her thighs. He paused, his thumb brushing against her pussy through her shorts and thong. Felicity gasped, the sensation sending a shock through her body. He leaned in, whispering, "You're mine now, slut. Every inch of you." His words were a declaration of ownership that sent a delicious tremor through her core. She could feel her pussy pulse with need, begging for more.

Felicity tried to focus on the in-flight movie, but every movement of James's hand under the blanket was a silent demand for her attention. His fingers began to stroke her, the fabric of her thong becoming saturated with her wetness. She bit her bottom lip, trying not to moan aloud. The thrill of their secret play, surrounded by unsuspecting passengers, was almost too much to handle.

As his touch grew bolder, James deftly undid the button of her shorts. The zipper whispered as it was pulled down, and she felt the warmth of his hand against her bare skin above the line of her lace thong. He gently coaxed her to lift her hips, allowing him to slip the shorts down just enough to expose her purple lace-covered pussy beneath the blanket. Her cheeks burned with a mix of excitement and embarrassment, but she obeyed, craving the sensation of his hand on her skin.

Felicity's breath grew shallow as James slid his fingers under the damp fabric of her thong, teasing her swollen clit with feather-light strokes. The public setting only heightened her arousal, making her more aware of the danger of their situation. She squirmed in her seat, trying to maintain a semblance of decorum as the other passengers around them remained blissfully unaware of the illicit act unfolding between her legs.

His thumb found her clit, applying just the right amount of pressure as he slid a finger into her, her body reacting instinctively to his touch. She stifled a whimper, sipping her champagne to cover her gasp. The sensation was overwhelming, a heady mix of pleasure and fear of discovery that made her heart pound in her chest. James leaned closer, his breath hot against her neck as he whispered dirty words that sent shivers down her spine.

Felicity’s eyes remained fixed on the screen, trying to follow the movie, but she was acutely aware of the wetness spreading on the seat beneath her. The gentle buzz of the plane's engine became a background to the rhythmic sound of James's fingers moving in and out of her, his hand cupping her mound as if claiming her. The smell of her sex filled the small space under the blanket, adding to the illicitness of the moment.

Her body tensed as an orgasm began to build, her breaths quickening. She clutched the armrests, her knuckles white with the effort of staying quiet. The thought of coming under the eyes of strangers was both terrifying and exhilarating. James’s expert strokes grew faster, his thumb circling her clit with an intensity that made her toes curl in her shoes. She was so close, the tension coiling tighter and tighter.

The climax hit her like a wave, a silent scream lodged in her throat as she bit her lip to keep from crying out. Her body trembled, her pussy contracting around James's fingers, her juices soaking his hand and the fabric of her thong. He didn't stop, continuing to rub her clit through the aftershocks, drawing out every ounce of pleasure from her quivering form. The scene in the movie blurred as she rode the crest of her orgasm, her eyes squeezed shut, her chest heaving with silent gasps.

When she finally opened her eyes, James was smiling at her, a wicked glint in his eyes. He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear, and whispered, "That's my good girl." He kissed her neck, his teeth grazing her skin lightly. She felt a rush of love and desire for this man who had unlocked something so primal within her.

Carefully, and with trembling hands, Felicity tugged her shorts back up, adjusting herself so that no evidence of their intimate moment remained visible. She couldn’t help but feel a thrill as she glanced over at the man in the seats opposite them. His gaze was focused on his magazine, but she was convinced that his knowing smirk was directed at her.

Her cheeks flushed as she took another sip of champagne, her hand shaking slightly. She tried to act nonchalant, sipping the bubbly liquid and focusing on the in-flight movie as if nothing had happened. The fabric of her shorts clung to her damp skin, a constant reminder of the exhilarating encounter. She felt a strange mix of embarrassment and pride, knowing that she had just experienced something so intimate and risky in such a public space.

James’ hand withdrew from beneath the blanket, and he leaned back in his seat with a smug smile, watching her with hooded eyes. He knew the effect he had on her, and it was clear he reveled in her newfound submission. As the film played on, the tension between them released, the air thick with unspoken desires As they drifted off to sleep.