Iris

  I shook my head. I was too old for this shit.

  “Coffee?” I asked as we moved through his house. “Is that really someone’s name?”

  “The name I gave her. I name them all. Coffee got the name because she actually makes decent coffee. Damn, I miss her. Candy doesn’t even know how to work the machine.”

  I laughed. The bastard kind of deserved to have to make his own coffee.

  “Oh, man, I almost forgot to tell you,” he called out when I’d reached my car. “That pool party next week—the one I finally got you to agree to come to—I just found out Tammy is piggy backing her way into it, going as the plus one to one of my friends. How do you want me to handle it? Should I ban her? It’s up to you. I never liked her, anyway.”

  I found myself blissfully unaffected by this. I waved a careless hand in the air. “It’s up to you. I don’t have a preference. I don’t really care if she comes or not. She’s unpleasant, but I’m past caring about that. Not my problem anymore.”

  “Her new man won’t be there, if that makes you feel any better.”

  “Not particularly. She’s way more likely to hit on me if he’s not around.”

  “That’s right. You hit that several times after she left. How long after? Was there overlap with your Iris?”

  “No, no overlap. Several months gap, actually.”

  “But you did screw Tammy after you were separated, right?”

  I flushed. I might have admitted this to him when we’d gotten uncharacteristically drunk a few weeks ago. “Yeah. Barely.”

  “I get it, man. It was like an angry revenge screw, right? You stuck it to the bitch that stuck it to you, and as a bonus, you got to cuckold her new man, just like he’d done to you. A bit of tit for tat.”

  He wasn’t wrong, but I still didn’t feel good about it. I liked to think I’d evolved since then, as I was positive I wouldn’t be falling into that messed up pattern again.

  I’d found new messed up patterns to obsess about these days.

  CHAPTER SIX

  I was working at my desk in my office, exactly two weeks and three days since Iris had given me extreme blue balls in a strip mall, when my phone rang.

  I glanced at the lit screen of my cell.

  It was an unknown number¸ but since Iris, I always picked up, no matter what, though it was never her.

  “Hello,” I said into the phone, fully expecting it to be a telemarketer, who I planned to promptly end the call with. This had been the case the last three times I’d picked up an unknown number.

  “Dair,” came Iris’ voice, all breathy into my ear.

  “Iris,” I said, reclining my office chair enough to give me room to breathe through a suddenly tight air passage. “Where are you?”

  “Nowhere close, unfortunately. I just wanted to hear your voice.”

  I knew the feeling. I closed my eyes, letting her voice wash over me.

  “When will I see you again?” I asked her.

  “Soon. Very soon. I . . . can’t stop fantasizing about you.” Her breath caught. “All the time. I’m in the bathroom right now, masturbating again, thinking about what you do to me.”

  I pinched the tip of my cock hard through my clothes.

  Phone sex? This was new, but crazy as it was, I wasn’t going to say no.

  “What are you wearing?” I asked her, voice rough as I stroked myself over my gym shorts.

  “A dress. I’m wearing that little white dress I had on that last time, when you took me on the stairs. Remember it?”

  I shifted on the chair until I could yank my dick free.

  I fisted myself bare. “Oh yeah.”

  “I have the top unbuttoned. I had to sew the part you ripped, but my breasts are hanging out. My nipples are hard. I’m watching myself in the mirror, and I have my skirt pushed up. I’m fingering myself over my panties.”

  “Shove them to the side, and rub your clit,” I ordered raggedly.

  Some gasping on her end told me she was obeying.

  “Send me a picture,” I tried.

  “I can’t. This isn’t my phone. That would be . . . a very bad idea, but I wish I could. Are you touching yourself?”

  I grunted an affirmative, fisting the middle of my shaft, then slowly rubbing up and down.

  “I want you inside of me,” she breathed. “Bare. It’s all I can think about.”

  I squeezed at my base until fluid beaded out from my tip. “I want that. I’m going to fuck you bareback the next time I see you. I don’t care where we are.”

  I kept jerking my cock, pumping at it hard. I was going to come, and fast.

  “I have two fingers inside of me, but it’s not enough. I need that big, thick cock of yours, Dair. And your mouth. God, I miss your mouth all over me. And your hands.” She paused, her breath growing more ragged. “I’m using a dildo on myself now. My fingers weren’t enough.”

  I pictured her using a toy on herself, slapping noises filling the room as I yanked hard at my cock

  “God, Dair, I can hear that. It’s driving me wild. Tell me what you’re doing with your hands right now.”

  “Jerking off,” I said through gritted teeth.

  She was clearly better at this than I was.

  She didn’t seem to mind, crying out into the phone as she got herself off.

  I shot my load into the air, not bothering to try to catch it.

  “I need your cunt,” I growled into her ear as I came down.

  “Yes,” she gasped, still out of breath. “It’s yours, and you’ll have it soon, baby—” she broke off suddenly, and I heard a muffled voice on her end.

  A deep, male voice.

  Someone talking to her from outside of the bathroom?

  I could only hope. There was no good scenario here, but that was the better one.

  “Iris,” I said, voice tight.

  “I’ll see you soon,” she whispered back.

  The line went dead.

  I was so angry that I threw my phone against the wall.

  Four more days passed, and each one added to my frustrated rage.

  I picked up a new phone, since I’d shattered my old one, and spent a lot of time at home, canceling any plans I had that involved venturing outside.

  Foolish as it was, I was hoping she’d come to my house. If I saw her again, I needed it to be private.

  It was three in the morning when she finally came.

  I came to the door shirtless and sweating from another body punishing workout.

  Against all odds, I’d been waiting for her.

  She was wearing that little white dress. The one from the stair incident, nearly three months ago.

  I didn’t touch her, just took her in as I stepped back and waved her through the door.

  She swallowed, and I watched her slender throat work with the action.

  My eyes ran down her body like hungry hands.

  “Take off your dress,” I told her hoarsely, shutting the door.

  She didn’t hesitate.

  She toed off her white flip-flops, and tossed her big yellow bag aside, shrugging the dress over her head.

  She met my eyes steadily, wearing nothing but little neon pink panties, the up-tilted globes of her breasts swaying with her heavy breaths.

  “My room,” I told her, feeling the rough beast of my need take hold of me with an iron grip.

  My inner mouth-breather had taken over.

  I beat it back, with an effort.

  She started walking, me right on her heels, close enough to have my face in biting distance of her ass as she made her way up the steps.

  I restrained the urge. I was determined to stay in control here.

  I had no intention of rushing this first desperate mating. Oh no, I was far past that.

  I’d felt the need to rush two weeks ago.

  Now my need had gone into another realm completely.

  A realm where what drove me as much as my own desire was a necessity to share it.

  She wa
s not as desperate as I was, or she wouldn’t have taken so fucking long to come back.

  But she would be.

  I was determined to make it so.

  Under my hands, she was going to experience the torment I’d been subjected to these long weeks, these agonizing months of waiting.

  I laid her trembling body out on my bed, everything stripped off her but that tiny triangle of neon covering the even tinier thatch of blonde between her thighs.

  That I used to tease her, using one blunt nail, starting just above and to the right of her sex, drawing the material over my finger, and agonizingly slowly, dragging it over, exposing her leisurely.

  Each of her gasping groans was a sop to my aching body, sinking into me deliciously.

  I slid that wisp of mesh to the side, dragging it over her folds, until I’d pushed it aside, and my finger rested at the deep crease where her inner thigh met her groin.

  I held it there for a beat, then another, watching her squirm, waiting for her to plead.

  I didn’t have to wait long.

  I played her body until it coiled so tight with the tension that she vibrated with it.

  She pleaded.

  She begged.

  She cried my name and clawed the sheets before I was through.

  I didn’t even need to lay a finger on her at first, just teased her with that scrap of cloth, dragging it back and forth, rubbing it over her clit as she squirmed and begged for my hands, my touch.

  “Knead your breasts,” I told her in response. I’d let her have her own hands, but not mine, not yet.

  She did, groaning in relief as she felt at her own flesh.

  I stopped teasing her to watch.

  “Don’t stop,” she pleaded.

  I ignored that, watching as her small hands rolled her large breasts in restless circles, pressing them together, rubbing, pinching at her nipples.

  She watched me watching her. “You want these? Titty fuck me, Dair.”

  I shook my head.

  She was not calling the shots, not tonight.

  Instead, I took my mouth to her, going to town until she was so close I could taste it on my busy tongue.

  I pulled back, ignoring her mewling cries of protest.

  I slipped my shorts off and straddled her ribcage, handling her heavy tits roughly.

  I pushed them together, pushing my cock between.

  I let myself drive between them only a few times before I pulled away, but it was enough to milk a few thick drops of pre-come onto the tender flesh of her collarbone.

  I dragged my fingers through that errant fluid, bringing it to her lips.

  She sucked them clean while I bent down and started sucking at one fleshy globe.

  I lingered at her chest, sucking long and hard enough to leave bruising marks all over her flawless flesh.

  I didn’t stop until she was begging for my cock.

  I turned her over, and had her perch on her elbows and knees, ass facing me as I drilled her with my fingers.

  This was when she finally distracted me from my course.

  “Dair, please, I only have a few hours before I have to leave again.”

  I pulled my fingers out abruptly.

  Without warning, or even permission from my brain, I grabbed her hips and drove into her.

  Bare.

  There were condoms in the nightstand, not two feet away, and even when I knew how stupid it was, how much it went against all of my better judgement, I never reached for one.

  I wanted to ask her, at least have a conversation about it, at least get reassurance that if she had been with someone else, she’d had the sense to make them wrap it up, but I couldn’t seem to find the nerve.

  The wrong answer was more than I could take. I knew my limits.

  I dragged out, and drove in again, guttural sounds wrenching out of me.

  Stupid or not, it was heaven like this, skin on skin, inside of her.

  I lifted her legs off the bed with a hard grip on her thighs, until only her elbows supported her, and she was angled for the tightest ride, and started thrusting in earnest.

  She came first, and fast.

  I followed quickly, emptying inside of her with a rough shout. I didn’t pull out, still thrusting, and let her milk every tremor of my release.

  When it was enough, I pulled out, flipping her onto her back.

  I covered her, taking her mouth with my own, rubbing our bodies together, still so hungry for her that I ached with it.

  My insistent hands played with her breasts and plunged into her pussy, getting her ready for the next assault.

  When we were both desperate again, I rolled onto my back and pulled her to straddle me.

  I lined myself up at her entrance.

  I paused as our eyes met, unable to keep one question to myself.

  “Should we be using condoms?” I asked her, throat tight.

  Her eyes were steady and sure. She didn’t hesitate, shaking her head.

  “No,” said Iris, and impaled her lovely body on my ravenous cock.

  I was pretty sure said cock was running the show at this point, but even knowing she was a liar, right then her answer was enough for me.

  In any case, if there was damage to do here, it was already done.

  And I was quickly beyond the ability to think as she started to move.

  Her pert breasts were bouncing hypnotically, the rest of her toned flesh flexing gloriously as she rode me. I palmed her perfect tits, rolling the sensitive tips against my palms.

  I jackknifed until I was sitting up under her, leaned forward, and sucked them hard while she bounced up and down on my shaft.

  I let her for as long as I could stand before I gripped her hips and took over, slamming hard into her again and again until I went over the edge, managing at least to take her with me.

  We never stopped, didn’t take a moment of rest before it was time for her to leave.

  I fucked her mindless.

  I took her until we were both sore from it.

  Raw.

  Flesh over-used, muscles strained.

  She didn’t walk out so much as wave a white flag and limp away the next morning.

  At least I was awake to see her go. I hated when she left as I was sleeping.

  I made her look me in the eye and say goodbye.

  “When will I see you again?” I asked, cupping her jaw.

  I hadn’t been a tender lover to her that night. I’d been rough, and arduous, and demanding as hell, more demanding than even I knew I was capable of.

  But regardless of my actions, she held a little tender place in my chest, one that only she’d ever been able to unbury and expose.

  The lack of her had done nothing to bury it again.

  I wasn’t sure what would.

  What could.

  She bit her lip, and I had to stop myself from kissing her.

  I needed this answer.

  I’d gone past needing all of the answers to just the ones that I couldn’t live without.

  “Sometime in the next four days, hopefully not in the middle of the night again, I’ll come back to see you.”

  I stroked her hair back from her face, studying her.

  She looked worn out, tired, and well-fucked. I loved it and hated it.

  With a frustrated sigh, I kissed her forehead, and let her go.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  It was four days later, and I was just pulling my car out of the garage when I saw a silver Jaguar pulling up to the curb in front of my house.

  The silver Jaguar.

  I put my car in park and got out, fists clenching, and started striding towards it.

  Iris opened the passenger door, nearest to me.

  That blond fucker was in there, behind the wheel and saying something to her, his handsome face serious, his eyes intent on her.

  She nodded once, leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek, said something in his ear, then got out.

  That was when his eyes swung to
me, and his whole demeanor changed, his hard jaw clenching, his eyes going glacial.

  The guy hated me, despised me almost as much as I did him. I knew it in one look.

  I broke into a run, determined to catch him before he left.

  Iris shut her door, one look at her telling me that she really hadn’t wanted me to see who was dropping her off.

  The Jaguar peeled away with a screech.

  I almost chased him on foot, barely stopped myself from that act of lunacy.

  Instead, I rounded on Iris.

  She was looking back and forth, between my car and me.

  It was still running, driver’s door open.

  I half-toyed with the idea of going after him in the car, but what was the point?

  She was here now, for the moment, at least. It was clearly the most I’d ever be getting from her.

  I went to her, grabbing her shoulders, wanting to shake her. “Who the fuck is he? Tell me.”

  “I can’t. I would if I could. Trust me.”

  I shook my head. I didn’t trust her. How could I? She’d given me cause to do nothing but distrust her. She gave me no answers, so I was forced to draw conclusions, and those conclusions were based on logic, not hope, so they never worked in her favor, because there was no good, logical reason for the things she lied about.

  She seemed to know it. “I’m sorry. I wanted to see you, to be with you, but this is how it has to be. I can’t talk about him, and I wish you hadn’t seen him. Where are you headed in your swim trunks?”

  I let out a frustrated breath, dragging my hand through my hair. “It’s not important. Let’s go inside. If I only get a few more hours with you, I want to spend them in bed.”

  She was stubborn, digging in her heels when I tried to tug her towards her house. “Tell me where you were going. And I can stay for more than a few hours this time.”

  That reassurance did wonders for my mood, and had me answering her question. “My friend is having a pool party, but it’s nothing important.”

  She beamed. “I love parties. Let’s go. I need to stop and buy a suit, though.”

  I didn’t want to take her, didn’t want to share her company with anyone, let alone a large crowd.

  Something vulnerable entered her eyes. “I almost forgot. You don’t want to be seen with me.”