Iris (The Wild Side #2)(17)

He grimaced, rubbing the spot where I’d hit him twice. They hadn’t been light blows. “My bad.”

We were both momentarily distracted when one of the girls Iris was dancing with reached to finger the strings draping her hips.

I heard Turner suck in a sharp breath.

I socked him in the arm again, because I was pretty sure I could read his mind.

After a vigorous (and distracting) round of dancing, Iris approached the cabana.

“Will you show me to the powder room?” she asked me, breathless from her exertions.

“I can show you,” Turner told her.

I glared at him and stood.

“We’ll be back,” I said, trying my damnedest to sound neutral.

I was pretty sure I knew what she had in mind, and I was hoping it wasn’t just wishful thinking on my part.

Iris looked too delectable not to touch. I wrapped my arm tight around her waist as I led her back to the house.

I squeezed her hip and put my lips to her ear. “Do you really need a powder room?” I asked.

She nodded.

Inwardly, I cursed, but I showed her the way as politely as I could.

The house had about a half a dozen bathrooms, but I led her to the one that adjoined one of Turner’s downstairs gaming rooms, because the space was more private, though the room didn’t have a proper door, just a secluded hallway that branched it off from the main part of the house.

“Wait here for me?” she asked, looking up to give me very good eye contact.

I nodded, taking a seat on the room’s large sofa. I was already hard. I wouldn’t dream of leaving now.

The music out back was pumping loud enough that even this quiet room had some bass vibrating through it.

I leaned against the couch, throwing my arms over the back, letting my head fall back. I’d only had one Mai Tai, but I wasn’t much of a drinker, and it was enough to have me feeling happily relaxed.

And an afternoon of watching Iris dance in a bikini was hardly a bad deal, aching c**k or no.

I didn’t open my eyes when I heard the restroom door open. I felt, more than heard, as Iris move over to me, every nerve in my body tuned in to her.

My heartbeat picked up, my c**k throbbing in time to it, as I felt a light touch against the outside of my thigh.

I reached and felt a slender ankle there. She’d perched her foot up on the couch.

“Come closer,” she said softly.

I opened my eyes and shifted forward until I was sitting on the edge of my seat, face inches from her naval.

She smiled and started rolling her hips.

“Take your shorts off,” said Iris.

She didn’t have to say it twice. They were off in a flash.

She stayed in her tease of a bikini, dancing for me, driving me wild, and by the twinkle in her eye, loving every second of it.

I kept my hands to myself for maybe five minutes.

She threw her leg over my shoulder and started gyrating into my face.

That was my breaking point.

I had her ass cupped in my hands, my mouth nuzzling her bikini aside to eat her pu**y between one gyrate and the next, one hand still cupping her ass, the other working to untie her stringy, triangle bottoms.

I tossed them aside when that was accomplished and held her to me with both hands, going at it furiously with my tongue, partaking of her.

She was a feast, and I was a man starved.

She gripped her hands into my hair and tilted her h*ps up for a better angle, my name punching out of her lungs, over and over, like a prayer.

I relished the sound of that enough to keep going, forget about myself, and bring her over.

She never stopped saying it, even when she came against my tongue, and even after, like a mantra, she kept chanting it.

I ate it up.

Literally.

I shifted her leg until her foot was perched on top of my shoulder, tore my mouth away, and leaned back against the sofa.

This stretched her over me, and gave me a spectacular view of my own little slice of heaven, right between her gorgeously tanned thighs.

“Take your top off,” I told her, shoving two fingers solidly into her cunt.

She whimpered, pulled her br**sts free from that sin of a top, and started whimpering my name again.

It was good enough for me.

I jerked my fingers in and out of her fast, relentless with it, finger f**king her until she was trembling over me, her long legs shaking.

I took pity on her then.

Her and myself.

I pulled my fingers loose, setting her propped foot down on the ground. I turned her, then brought her slowly onto my lap.

Or, more specifically, onto my cock. I arranged her, legs spread wide over my knees, head against my shoulder.

I impaled her inch by agonizing inch, until I was balls deep.

She was limp and close to reaching her pleasure. I brought her the rest of the way by slamming her down on my c**k a half dozen times.

A half dozen more had me exploding inside of her with a rough cry.

I didn’t move much for a long time after. Couldn’t move much. I lay limp, with her boneless on top of me.

My hands were the only thing I had the energy left to use and those just to lazily touch.

I stroked a bared breast with one hand, plucking at a sensitive nipple.

The other was between our bodies, exploring the spot where our slick sexes met, her pu**y still sheathing my cock.

I wrapped my fingers around the base of my shaft and gave a few restless jerks that agitated us both.