Iris (The Wild Side #2)(29)

“Sixteen is the legal age of consent in Nevada.”

I wanted to rip my hair out.

What was she saying? “So you’re only . . . ?”

Her mouth twisted wryly, but she still didn’t look at me. “I’m over eighteen, okay? The IDs aren’t for that purpose. They’re to hide my identity, not my age.”

“Swear it. Look me in the eye and swear to me that you’re over eighteen.”

She did, her eyes steady, voice even. “I swear.”

I knew she was a liar. Knew it. It was a fact that she’d lied to me before.

So why did I believe her now?

I couldn’t have said why, but I did believe her, and in that moment, it was enough.

And I was just as certain that she’d never explain all of those IDs to me, so I didn’t even ask.

She counted cards at casinos and had been shot with a gun before. Of course she’d have multiple identities. It was so Iris.

I kissed her, my hands going to her shorts, yanking them down, my relief so huge that it could only be expressed in one way.

She backed away from me, turning onto her stomach, then her knees. I thought at first that she was still trying to leave, but her shaking hands pulling her shorts down assured me that we were back on the same page.

I covered her, taking her from behind.

She was wet, but at that angle, I still had to ease in slowly at first.

I was halfway in when she moaned and arched her back.

My hands fondled her br**sts as I shoved home roughly.

We f**ked like animals in heat, moaning and keening.

I had her screaming by the end. I couldn’t get enough, and even when I shot my load deep inside of her, I kept thrusting.

“You should get off birth control,” I growled, my brain misfiring in all directions. “I want to get you pregnant.”

She took it well, at least, laughing instead of running in terror.

I mean, I was half-tempted to run, and it had come out of my stupid mouth.

“Slow down there,” she said wryly. “What’s the rush? Do you have any clue how young I am?”

She had a twisted sense of humor, to be sure.

I slipped out of her. My c**k was so wet that it was dripping as I dragged free of her. It got me going again, just the sight and feel.

Having her ass pointed at me didn’t help, either.

I pushed at her rear entrance, dragging a trail of moisture up from her pu**y and lubricating her liberally.

I didn’t ask permission, just started pushing my c**k into her ass.

I figured I’d stop if she told me no.

She didn’t.

Instead, she braced herself on the arm of the couch and let me f**k her ass. I don’t know what made me do it. It wasn’t something I’d done before.

I mean, I’d watched a  p**n  or two with hot chicks getting anal, but that was it. I’d never thought of doing it in real life, never thought I’d have a partner that I’d be comfortable enough expressing my curiosity about it.

Tammy would have called me a pervert, for sure.

Iris wasn’t like that. She was so giving as a lover that I was never afraid to show her exactly what I wanted. And she had, after all, said I could do it any time.

I instantly understood what all the fuss was about.

It was a tight, quick ride.

My only complaint was that I couldn’t f**k her as hard as I wanted to like that. I didn’t want to hurt her, and she whimpered a few times, whimpers that I wasn’t sure came all from pleasure.

“That second time was no way to get me pregnant,” she told me as I dragged myself out of her.

I laughed, kissing her cheek. “I love you,” I told her, feeling it down to my soul.

It was a crazy thing to say, but I couldn’t hold it back. And it was far from the craziest thing I’d said that night.

She turned and hugged me hard. “You are the sweetest man. I’m so happy I found you.”

In terms of possible reactions, it wasn’t the worst thing she could’ve said. An I love you back would have been nice, but I’d take what I could get.

And it wasn’t like she hadn’t said it to me before.

We were clean and na**d in bed a bit later. I was just on the edge of sleep, her sweet head on my chest, when I heard her murmur, “I love you, too. Always will.”

Of course when I woke up and she was gone, yet again, the next morning, I wasn’t sure that last bit hadn’t been a dream.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

I’d had no word from her in weeks when I found a small envelope on my doorstep.

It had no postage, wasn’t even addressed. All that was written on the envelope was Dair in neat handwriting.

Without opening it, I knew whom it was from.

And even before I read it, I felt an awful, pervasive dread creeping over me.