Dair (The Wild Side #3)(8)

I may as well have died and gone to heaven.

I moved down her body and pulled her sweats down, taking her panties with them.

I couldn’t help it, as I moved back up, I stopped at her sex and started lapping.

She gripped my hair, digging her heels into the bed to push my tongue deeper.  I filled my palms with her ass and went to town.

I wasn’t timing it, but even so, I was certain that she came in less than a minute, the room filling with her loud cries, and I pulled back with a gasp, straightening to loom over her.

I started to lift off her sweatshirt, but she stayed my hands, keeping her arms in the sleeves.

I didn’t care.  I had access and a visual on everything I needed.  And I was too desperate to take even one more delay.

I gripped the bottom of her thighs, pushing them high as I nudged my c**k at her slick entrance.

When my tip was in, I shoved, propelling myself deep, seeking the very center of her with every aching nerve in my body.

It’d been so long.  Too long with nothing but my hand and only the thought of her for relief.

Going from so little to everything, every single sinful inch of her, all at once, a squeezing vise around me, was almost too much.

I held onto the most meager ounce of control at first, but only barely and not for long.

Holding her steady, I put her ankles on my shoulders, and pounded deep, deep, deeper until her body was writhing.

I stopped on an upswing.  One of her cries had been a touch beyond frantic and into panicked.

“Too much, Iris?”

She didn’t answer.  Even her chanting had stopped.  She just lay shaking under me.

I could have used an answer.

Without one, I reverted back to a mouth-breather, panting while I held her in place and worked my hard length in and out, rough and steady.

I watched my c**k pull out of her, then force back in, my brutal thrusts becoming heavy and jagged in an effort to keep from increasing my pace.

I tried my best, but she wasn’t with me when I bottomed out and spilled deep inside of her.

I pulled out, and she writhed, unfulfilled as though she hadn’t come just minutes before under my tongue.

I didn’t even require recovery time.  I was still twitching from the last round, and it already felt like I needed her again.

I flipped her onto her stomach, and held her in place with my open palms, my mouth moving up her back, along her spine.

I tried to push her sweatshirt up out of my way, just below her shoulder blades, but she tucked her arms and kept it in place.

Even in a nearly mindless state, this gave me pause.

What on earth could she be trying to hide from me?

I had no notion what it could be, but I was bound and determined to find out.

“Get on your hands and knees,” I ordered, voice roughened with need.

With trembling gasps she complied.

I came up close behind her, my burgeoning erection digging into her ass.

She bowed her spine, swinging her h*ps to push her ass back against me.

Without warning, and swiftly, I bent forward, pushing her sweatshirt up and over her head, so her back was completely bared to me.  She didn’t have time to stop me, that time.

I saw it right away, the discoloration of it catching my eye.

It froze me for an endless moment, then my heart started pounding frantically.

Just on the edge of her shoulder, about the size of a dime, was a healed over pink wound.  I knew what it was because it matched the one on her shoulder to a tee.

It was a gunshot wound.

Another one, a fresher one.  It had to be just a few months old.

My teeth clenched, my pounding heart doing a slow, torturous roll inside my chest.

“You were shot again?” I asked raggedly, though the answer was obvious.

She’d stiffened up, clearly bracing herself for my reaction.

“A flesh wound,” she said quietly, trying and failing to keep her trembling voice calm.

“Who shot you?”

“I didn’t get a good look at the guy.”

That was a frustrating answer, but I moved past it, as something else occurred to me.  “That letter . . . did you write that to me before or after this happened?”  It seemed like an important piece of the puzzle, my mind racing with all of the possible ramifications.

“Before.”

I covered her back, embracing her firmly from behind, my mouth working at her ear as I spoke, “So you knew it was coming?  You knew that someone was actively trying to kill you?  And instead of coming to me for help, you wrote me a letter?”

She took a very deep breath that moved both of our bodies.  “Yes.  I’m sorry, but this is another thing I can’t explain to you.”

“And then you were shot, so now you’re being held here?”  Rage filled me as another idea occurred.  “Did that blond motherf*cker have anything to do with you being shot?”

Her ear moved against my mouth as she shook her head slowly.  “No, Dair.  Heath has something to do with me being alive right now.  You know I can’t give you the details, but trust me when I say that he’s as deep in this mess as I am.  I was grazed on the shoulder, but he took two bullets for me that time, or it would have been much worse.”

I didn’t know what to make of that.