Iris (The Wild Side #2)(18)

“Oh God,” she whimpered. “It’s too much.”

“No, you’re wrong,” I murmured into her hair, twisting my hand repeatedly to rub her entrance, and my base roughly. “It’s never enough. Never. Tell me, how long can you stay with me this time?”

She was starting to move, to shift against me. “A few days.”

It would have to be enough, and it was certainly better than the last time, when she’d barely given me a night.

“You enjoy messing with me, don’t you?” I asked, still twisting and jerking my hand, working us both up into another frenzy.

“I enjoy doing anything at all with you, Dair, but I’m not playing you, if that’s what you’re asking.”

The fact that she could still lie even with me buried inside of her sated cunt had me riled in an all new way, and abruptly, I pulled her off me, arranging her on her knees between my spread legs.

She didn’t have to ask what I wanted.

I watched through half-lidded eyes as she bent over, tonguing me, watched my tip as it pushed past her lips, felt as it slid along the roof of her mouth, hit the back of her throat, and went deeper, squeezed tighter by the inch.

I gripped a handful of her silky hair, and her plush tit and enjoyed the view as she deep throated me.

Perversely, getting my c**k sucked made it impossible to hold onto any sort of animosity or even so much as remember the cause.

I was done being riled and back to being smitten with a few enthusiastic bobs of her head.

I figured there was probably a name for this, something Turner would know, when she sucked me off while I was still covered in our last bout of sex.

I didn’t know the name, but I did know that it felt incredible, and that the memory would definitely be stored in my mind for future jerk-off sessions.

I warned her when I was getting close, but sweet girl that she was, that just had her latching on tighter, and sucking even harder when I shot down her throat.

CHAPTER NINE

We used one of Turner’s showers to clean up, and got back into our suits, since Iris unfortunately wanted to stay at the party.

I’d have preferred to go home and pass out, but I was also in the mood to indulge her.

She was tying herself back into her bikini while I pulled on my swim trunks when she said something that gave me pause.

“Tammy saw us. She didn’t look too happy.”

I straightened, blinking at her. “Tammy saw us? What do you mean?”

She was pulling the strings of her top into the complicated pattern that kept her at something approaching decent. It was fascinating to watch each of her pale pink ni**les disappear under a little triangle of fabric, so fascinating I had a hard time focusing on my own question.

Her answer, however, brought me back. “She came into the room while we were ha**ng s*x and saw us.”

I ran my tongue over my teeth, studying Iris.

She didn’t appear the least bit concerned that someone had apparently watched us f**king.

She saw the look I was giving her and grinned. “What did you expect? We had sex in a room without a door, at a party. We’re lucky we didn’t draw a crowd.”

“What exactly did she see? And when did you notice this?”

“When I was on your lap, riding you. She was hovering in the doorway. I can’t be sure, but I think she may have watched the whole thing. She was upset, I could tell.”

Was it all women, or just the ones I knew, that I couldn’t understand to save my own life?

“Why didn’t you say something?” I asked slowly, stressing the words.

“I didn’t want you to stop. I was so close to coming. And who cares? Let her watch. Let her see that you’ve moved on.”

I hated the invasion of privacy, but I would have been a hypocrite if I’d taken issue, considering all the details of our sex life I’d shared with Turner.

Still, talking about and seeing were two very different things. If Turner had watched us having sex, I’d have punched him in the nuts, and worse.

“I’d have preferred she not see us like that,” I explained, using my most reasonable tone.

“Well, that wasn’t exactly an option. She’d already seen us. You were inside of me, buried to the hilt, when I noticed her. And correct me if I’m wrong, but if you’d confronted her, she wouldn’t have just left calmly and let us finish. It would have been a screaming match. Given the choice between an amazing orgasm, or a frustrating argument, which would you choose?”

I couldn’t dispute any of it, and none of this was on her, anyway. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m not upset with you. It’s her. It’s infuriating that she’s still finding ways to mess with me. I look forward to the day when she doesn’t get to me.”

“Your divorce got really ugly,” she observed.

“Yes. I’ve clocked in a lot of hours, expended a lot of energy despising that woman. How did I spend so much time on a woman like that? She’s so hateful. And also, so easy to hate.”

“When you invest in negative, it’s like owning stock. You made the mistake of doing that, by playing her little games, falling into her little traps, but it’s not the end of the world. You need to just sell it back, and move on with your life.”

Another statement I couldn’t dispute. “I’m getting better at it,” I reassured her.