Iris (The Wild Side #2)(24)

I cupped the sides of her br**sts, pushing them together.

I bent down, folding my torso to bury my face there, nuzzling and then licking my way to a nipple. I sucked it hard as she impaled herself enthusiastically, again and again, riding me roughly.

Her cool, damp hair brushed against me with every jarring bounce; her sweet breath puffing out to mingle with mine.

She started chanting my name as she got close.

I decided that was my favorite thing.

Ever.

She squeezed me hard as she came, and I let loose, gripping her h*ps to slam her harder against me, loud slapping noises filling the huge space.

I came, balls deep and stayed there.

We were clutching each other, panting, mouths to the other’s ear, still recovering, when I found the breath to speak again.

“I want to help you,” I rasped. “Please. I need to save you from whatever it is you’re running from.”

Her voice was unsteady, but her arms weren’t. They were wrapped around me like she was holding on for dear life. “You’ve already saved me, Dair. More than you’ll ever know.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

It was just two days after she’d left my house when I got another call from an unknown number.

I answered, this time with a clue who was on the other end, and praying I was right.

“Dair,” Iris breathed into my ear.

“Iris,” I said evenly. “Where are you?”

“I called to tell you that, actually.” There was a smile in her voice. “Are you busy?”

I shut my laptop. “Not anymore. Where are you?”

“Can you come meet me somewhere?”

I didn’t hesitate. “Yes. Where?”

“I’ll tell you, but I need you to do something for me when you come. It’s very important.”

“Anything.”

Fool that I was, I meant it.

“Wear a baseball cap and dark shades, and don’t bring your car. Take a taxi. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes.” It was all bizarre, but that was Iris for you. “T-shirt and cargo shorts okay?”

“Yes, that’s perfect. And, this is important, make sure you keep your head angled down, so no one can ID you on camera. Do you understand?”

“Sure,” I said slowly, wondering if this was some kind of a prank. “Where?”

“The Cavendish Resort. Meet me at the casino valet entrance. Like I said, keep your head down.”

“When?”

“Now.”

I took a deep breath, then another.

When had I become such a damned hedonist?

A slave to sensation.

A glutton for punishment.

Ridiculous as it was, I lived for these crazy rides she took me on.

“On my way. Do you have a room for us?”

“Yes. Hurry, baby.”

I hurried.

She was there and waiting for me as I stepped out of the taxi and up to the curb, though her appearance was drastically altered. I recognized her body first. She couldn’t hide those curves, not from me.

I had them memorized.

She had on a hot pink wig, cut into a bob, and dark shades. Her lips painted cotton candy pink.

She was hovering by the doors, wringing her hands, bouncing a little in her excitement.

She wore a skintight halter version of a men’s white dress shirt, with a cute little bow tie tucked into the collar. It hugged every curve, and she couldn’t have been wearing a bra. Her br**sts looked obscene in it, just indecent.

As if that weren’t enough, she’d paired it with a tiny leather pleated skirt that barely covered her ass, and thigh high boots with stiletto heels.

She looked like an adorable, delectable, beautiful, high-priced hooker.

“Hey,” she said quietly when I stood in front of her.

“Hey,” I said back. I seriously could have f**ked her right there in front of the gaping valet staff.

“Follow me.”

Her back was bare, from her shoulder to the top of her ass, and my hand ran over it possessively as she turned to start walking.

“So we’re, what, in disguise?” I asked.

She shot me a sidelong grin. “Yes. I’m a call girl, and you’re the tourist that bought me for the night. Very Vegas.”

“I have to say, I am planning to get my money’s worth,” I said into her ear.

She giggled.

“I love coming to this casino,” she said, as we passed through the tables and into a sea of slot machines. “The owner is a super kinkster. Have you seen his sex tape?”

I had my arm wrapped around her waist and buried inside of her shirt, rubbing at her belly as we walked, and so it took me a few beats to catch up to the conversation. “Oh yeah. Hmm . . . James Cavendish, right?”

“Yeah, him. So you have seen his sex tape?”

I had no notion what she was talking about. “No. The guy that owns this place? The billionaire? You’re saying he has a sex tape?”

She giggled again. “Yes. Try to keep up. Some ex of his released a video of them together after he got engaged, because she was jealous of his fiancée. Rumor has it she recorded it without his knowledge, like for blackmail, but it is wild. Super kinky. Normally I hate  p**n os. It just, I don’t know, makes it all seem so cheap. Sex should be about losing yourself in another person, not treating them like a piece of meat you want to stick your dick in.”