A long breath eased out of me. She wasn’t leaving. She didn’t want to leave. And she…she cared about me. The thought of her having feelings for me made it hard to breathe, and I didn’t quite know how to deal with the emotion it called up inside me. I didn’t even know what that emotion was.
A few months ago, I would have scoffed at myself. I knew I was better on my own, and I knew that being vulnerable only opened you up to getting hurt. Those were deep, undeniable truths.
But Iris was vulnerable, and I found myself feeling closer to her than I ever had before. With slight pressure on her hips, I pulled her forward, tilting my face to hers. She followed my lead, tangling her fingers in my hair to press a kiss on my lips. I tongued at her bottom lip and groaned at the taste of her.
“Clara could walk in any minute,” Iris whispered against my lips, but she didn’t pull away.
“Better be quick, then,” I said, sliding my hand under her panties to get at the wet warmth of her. I groaned as my fingers slid through her slickness, entering her opening with ease. She whimpered and rode my hand until her breaths were pants.
“This is so bad,” she said, voice fracturing on the last word. Her breath was hot on my neck as her head fell forward.
I huffed a laugh, adding a second finger while my thumb found her clit. “Better be a good little girl and come for me then.”
I wondered if this was always how it would be between us. I’d never felt this kind of insatiable desire with anyone before. I’d never been so desperate for a woman in my life, but somehow I couldn’t get enough of Iris. The only way we knew how to communicate was with sex. She was worried about something, but I didn’t know how to ease those worries in any other way.
Her hips rolled over my hand until I slid my fingers out of her, replacing them with my other hand. There was a frantic, hungry need inside me. A need to claim her, to make sure she knew she was mine. All her fears were unfounded. They had to be. There was no way this connection between us could falter.
Sure, our arrangement was unconventional. And I knew, logically, that it had to end someday. But I couldn’t see the shape of our relationship in any other way. I wasn’t the type of man who could have a wife and kids and a normal life. I wasn’t built that way. I didn’t have the required neural connections in my brain that would give her all she needed in a partner. All she deserved.
But I’d be damned if that meant I’d let her go.
I wrapped my arm around her hip and found her ass with the tip of my finger coated in her arousal. I teased her there, loving the way she ground down on me. She gasped, pupils blown out as she lifted her head, her hands curling into my shoulders as she rode both my hands to a shuddering release.
We were both breathing heavily by the time the trembling in her limbs abated, and I pulled my fingers from her, wishing I could replace them with something else.
Iris shifted, sliding to her knees on the floor before me. Her hands were at my belt in an instant, eyes darting to the door before meeting mine with a wicked glint.
“You don’t have to?-“
“I know,” she said, and she pulled me free from the confines of my pants before taking me into her mouth in one long suck.
My hips bucked off the couch and my hand flew to the back of her head. She hummed, and my eyes rolled back. The silk of her hair tightened between my fingers as I fisted into it, feeling the sharp daggers of her pointed nails in my thighs as she sucked me off like she was desperate for the taste of me.
When I came, she drank down my release in greedy gulps, and three little words rose to my lips, bursting to come out. She lifted her head and smiled at me, dazed, running a finger along the edge of her lip while her tongue darted out to lick it.
My breath heaved. I stared at this woman, this goddess, at a loss.
“I’d better go fix my makeup,” she said, and she rose to her feet like she hadn’t just shattered something inside me without even trying. I watched her disappear behind the door to my office’s ensuite then stuffed my softening cock back into my underwear before zipping myself up.
A while later, we took the helicopter to my parents’ estate and sat through an excruciating dinner where no one gave thanks for anything. Iris responded to their chilly formality with a kind of stubborn cheerfulness, smiling at veiled insults and complimenting the food as if my mother had cooked it herself.
At the sight of my mother’s disapproving glare, my lips curled into an unrepentant smile. I found Iris’s fingers and threaded them through my own, then brought her hand up to my mouth so I could place a kiss on the back of it.
She arched her brows at me, eyes glimmering, and I wished I had the courage to name the feeling trying to burst out of my chest.
Iris’s POV
Our weekend at the Monks’ private island was fast approaching. It was the last weekend of December before the holidays started, and lots had happened. Bonnie had made up with Arlo in a dramatic stand-off that, coincidentally, happened on the ground floor of the Branson building. I missed the whole thing because I was in the bathroom when everything went down, which was becoming a more frequent occurrence. I told myself I was drinking more water on account of all the energy I expended during sex, but I was still mad to have missed Arlo engaging in a bout of fisticuffs with a ghost from Bonnie’s past. Besides that drama, things were good. Work ramped up, and I’d gotten to know most of Branson’s most important clients.
With some careful spending, I was inching closer to repaying my debts. Blasphemous as it might be, I eyed my closet full of beautiful clothes and wondered if I could sell some of the more valuable pieces to be rid of my mistake.
Because I was a new woman. One who was chosen, who was worthy. Someone who wasn’t just a placeholder or a stand-in while the main character waited for a better thing to come along. I was me, and that felt great.
I was a woman who’d get her first ride in a private jet. I whistled as our car slid to a stop at the bottom of the stairs on the tarmac, and Jared grinned at me.
“I’m glad I can still give you a few novel experiences,” he said.
“You’ve given me more than a few.” I laughed at the twinkle in his eye and turned toward the door that Keith opened for me.
“Enjoy your weekend away,” the driver told me quietly, and I smiled at him and squeezed his arm in response. Beyond Keith was the airplane crew including a number of hostesses waiting for us at the top of the stairs. I had a moment of near panic at the sight of the jet, suddenly feeling like an impostor who didn’t belong here at all, but Jared’s presence at my back steadied me. We climbed the steps and entered the jet, and I delighted in the welcome drinks, the snacks, and the gigantic seats and lounge area.
Jared watched my reaction to everything, his lips kicking at the corners. I arched my brows at him, and he shrugged in response. I settled in my seat, and happiness spread through me like warm honey on a slice of toast. It was rare that I was able to read someone else’s expression that way, that I could have whole conversations without uttering a word. But with Jared, it was possible. Sometimes, I could tell the moment he woke up beside me just by the cadence of his breath over my skin.
On the side table beside my seat waited a glass of champagne, some fresh fruit, and a couple of truffles the air crew had brought over. The snacks looked delicious when they set them down, and they were fabulous, but the longer I looked at them, the less I wanted to eat them.
“Still queasy?” Jared asked quietly, his knee nudging mine.
“A little.”
I hadn’t eaten breakfast this morning-or yesterday, come to think of it. It wasn’t entirely rare. I sometimes skipped breakfast and had huge lunches. Or skipped dinner and woke up ravenous. I’d never been set in my routines.
I tried a tiny sip of champagne and grimaced before setting the glass down.
“That bad, huh,” Jared asked sardonically, watching me. “That’s not poor-quality stuff, you know.”
“No, it’s not that,” I said, then tilted my head. “Well, maybe a little. I don’t know.”
Jared’s hand landed on my leg, and he stroked softly. “Try to have some fruit, at least.”
The warmth and worry in his voice made my insides melt to goo. I nodded and nibbled on a strawberry and was glad when it didn’t upset my stomach. Then our glasses and dishes were being whisked away, and we were getting ready for takeoff.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.