The Wild Side (The Wild Side #1)(18)

I’d probably lose my gym membership for this, but did I care?

Not f**king likely.

The door to the small room she pulled me into did not have a lock.

That didn’t stop us.

She moved to the table, her back to me.  She tugged her shorts down, and leaned forward, elbows on the padded surface in front of her.  “We need to be quick,” she said quietly.

Fuck.  My wallet (with a condom) was in the locker.  It may as well have been an ocean away, with her ass pointed at me like that.

“I don’t have anything on me.  I need to go to my locker and get something.”

“I’m clean and I have an IUD,” she said, straightening just long enough to unzip and shrug out of her itty-bitty sports bra.

Well f**k.

Apparently, even a lack of protection wouldn’t stop us.

I wasn’t an idiot.  Far from it.  But I was just learning in that moment that I was as capable as your average mouth-breather of having an idiotic moment.

I told myself that I could worry about it later.

And that actually worked!

I was surprising myself by the second.

I stripped down, because she was, and I wanted to feel her back against my chest when I mounted her from behind.

My hands covered her hands, and I shifted my h*ps until I felt her wet entrance teasing my tip.  With a groan, I gripped one fleshy tit, and moved my other hand to guide myself home.

I sank in a few perfect inches.

I wasn’t gentle as I used her br**sts like handles and began to thrust.  She didn’t complain.  No, not a bit.  The sounds coming out of her were definitely moans of pleasure.

I lost it and took her hard and fast.  I embarrassed myself, being bare inside of her too much for me, and came before she did.

I pulled out still coming, spurting against her ass.  This was not going to be an easy cleanup, but I couldn’t make myself care.  I needed to make her come.  I needed to leave her satisfied enough to keep coming back for more.

I turned her, lifting her up onto the table.  She was so easy to handle, light as a feather.

I pushed her until she was flat on her back, and began to work her with my fingers, bending down to draw on the hard peak of a nipple.

I stopped when I thought she was close, because I was hard again, and whether or not I was capable of coming again, I wanted to be inside of her when she did.

I turned her, wrenching her legs open, and stepping between, her h*ps at the edge of the table.  She was sopping wet, and I eased in fast and hard, jolting out, then in again, my finger working her cl*t softly, my eyes all over her perfect body, her lovely face as she came, clenching on my cock.

I didn’t stop, couldn’t, and embarrassed myself, yet again, by not lasting much more than a f**king minute.

“I’m sorry,” I gasped out.  “I’m not usually this fast.”

She laughed.  It was a shaky laugh, as she was obviously still recovering from her own pleasure.

It was music to my ears.  I loved that laugh.

“Don’t apologize for that,” said Iris.  “That was amazing.  You’re the best lover.  You have to know that.”

I shook my head, dazed, my eyes on her splayed out, perfect tanned, perfect everything’d body.

She sat up just enough to cup my jaw in her hand.  “Seriously.  The best.”

I was suddenly weak, so tired I could barely stand.  “I, um,” I started to pull out of her, and even exhausted, I watched my progress with careful adoration.  Every inch that dragged out seemed to be caressed lovingly as it went.

I felt shaky as I got dressed, but she seemed to bounce back with no problem.  I reflected briefly on the beauty of being twenty-four and tireless.  She could certainly run laps around me.  Though I know that biologically sex tended to be more exhausting for men, the age difference had to be at least a bit of a factor.

“I have a few hours before I need to be anywhere,” she told me, grabbing my hand.  “Let’s go back to your place and take a nap.”

I let her lead me to the car and didn’t even put up a fight when she decided to drive.  She’d worn me out.  I was pretty much putty in her hands.

“Why don’t we go to your place this time?” I asked her as she started to drive.

Her expression was pleasantly blank.  It didn’t so much as twitch at my question.  “Maybe next time.  It’s a little messy at the moment.”

“How do you get around?  You don’t have a car, do you?”

“I don’t,” she said, shrugging.  “Which is fine.  It’s not hard to get where you want in this town.”

“Well, feel free to borrow one of mine.  There are several in the garage.  Take your pick.”

Her face became even more blank and only slightly less pleasant.  “I’m good, but thank you.”

“I don’t mind, really.”  It suddenly occurred to me that it would bring me immense relief if I knew she had safe transportation.  How did she get around?  And how could it possibly be safe for her to do so without a car?

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I am worried about it.  Just pick a car and use it.  It would make me feel better if you did.”