Hours later, sated, exhausted, I lay in bed, wide-awake.
Something was bothering me.
Enough that I couldn’t sleep, instead I just lay there, her soft blonde head on my chest, while the evidence circled.
In all fairness, it had been bothering me for a while, but somehow, that night, I just couldn’t stop thinking—obsessing about it.
Exhibit A: Something she’d said, months ago, but still, she’d said it.
The bit about, ‘Oh yeah, I’m twenty-four, right?’
Yeah, that bit. And the fact that she’d said something similar more than once.
Exhibit B: Turner’s theory that she was much younger than she claimed.
He’d seemed so sure.
Exhibit C: The fact that she refused to show me her ID again.
All of it was enough to have me worried, but the fact that I knew she made a habit of lying was the cement that had me taking action.
I slipped out of bed, slowly, carefully, so as not to disturb her.
I needed to check out her ID again.
Just to study it a little harder.
For peace of mind.
I could recall the big yellow purse she used left in the entryway. That’s what I needed to look at.
I padded quietly through the house in nothing but my boxers, thinking that my life had taken a very strange turn.
I grabbed the bag where it lay on the floor, opened it, and stopped.
I went into the nearest bathroom, shut and then locked the door. I felt like enough of a bastard for invading her privacy. The last thing I wanted was to get caught doing it and then have to explain why.
I found her little pink wallet, took out her ID, and studied it for a good five minutes, turning the lights to bright, tilting it this way and that.
It looked almost perfect, but there was one small flaw along the side of her picture. It was so tiny, so minuscule of a line, that it could have been nothing.
But it just happened to run the entire length of the picture.
I almost let it go, but some devil had me searching the rest of her bag. I checked every pocket, and came up with nothing out of place. Some hand sanitizer, tissues, her tiny neon bikini, and lots of makeup,
No credit cards, though there was plenty of cash. A ridiculous amount of cash, actually, but that was no surprise at this point, so I didn’t linger on it.
I’m not sure why, but I couldn’t seem to stop searching, going along the lining of her bag, feeling for some secret.
Turns out, I was right to be vigilant.
A thick, heavy bulge (maybe a large wallet?) was in the lining.
Sown in.
Going for broke, I ripped it.
It was not a wallet, but three passports and eight (I counted them three times) driver’s licenses were stacked into a sandwich sized Ziploc bag.
I just stood there and stared at them for the longest time, not believing that my paranoia had actually been leading me in the right direction.
I was horrified as I began to study each one.
So many names and birth dates.
The birth dates concerned me the most.
By far.
One of them placed her as young as sixteen.
I felt sick to my stomach as I stalked up to my room, evidence in hand.
I had a pain in my temple that was turning into a great black void in my vision.
“Iris,” I growled, turning on every light in the room, stalking through it like a madman.
She shifted onto her back, not opening her eyes, and parted her legs, like she was ready to be taken. “Dair,” she murmured, one hand moving down to rub her clit, getting nice and ready for me. The other squeezed one of her pert breasts, puckering the nipple for me.
Even with what I’d just learned, I had to restrain myself from fucking her then and there.
Instead, I lost my temper.
Just lost it.
Flinging all of the cards, those lies of hers, onto her naked body, followed by her yellow bag, I began to pace as she woke up with a start, looking confused as she studied the small objects I’d assaulted her with.
“You’ve been busy,” she said wryly, her voice still rough with sleep. “Do you know what a pain in the ass it was to sew them into the seam?
“Is that all you have to say to me? What the fuck is this? What are they for? What are you playing at? And are any of them real?”
“Why don’t you just ask what you really want to? Is the one that pins me at sixteen real?”
I was shaking in rage.
My voice was trembling with it.
“Is it?” I was terrified to ask, because her answer could ruin me.
“Does it matter? You’ve fucked me every which way, Dair. The damage is already done, don’t you think?”
“Get out!” I shouted.
I felt beyond my limits.
I didn’t trust myself.
I’d never felt this betrayed before, not even when I’d caught my wife with another man.
What was it about this that I just couldn’t take?
Her reaction was infuriating, because there was none.
She quietly gathered up her things, the things that I’d thrown around like a maniac, shoved them in her bag, and then walked into my closet.
When she walked out of the closet not a minute later, fully dressed and obviously planning to leave, I felt instant and extreme remorse.
“I didn’t mean it,” I ground out. “Don’t go. Not like this. Let’s talk about this.”
Her face was devoid of emotion, but her voice was resigned. “No, I think this is for the best. There’s really nothing to talk about. It’s just what it looks like. I’ve lied about my identity and my age.”
“Don’t,” I whispered, but she walked out of the room.
I followed her. I tried to take her bag from her at the top of the stairs.
We had a brief struggle before she let me have it, simply moving ahead without it.
I carried it down, still hot on her heels.
I dropped it as we neared the front door.
Some wild beast got ahold of me, and I wrenched her shirt off, leaving her in only a thin lace bra.
She kept moving, intent to leave, even without the essentials.
Like a maniac, I dragged her to the couch, pushing her down to straddle her hips, pinning her there.
She wouldn’t look at me.
“Stop this,” I told her, gripping her shoulders and shaking her slightly.
“You told me to leave. I won’t be told twice.”
“Just swear to me you aren’t sixteen. Swear you’re at least older than eighteen. That’s the part I have to know.”
“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 h
er 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 breasts as I shoved home roughly.
We fucked 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 cock 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 pussy and lubricating her liberally.
I didn’t ask permission, just started pushing my cock 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 fuck 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 porn 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 fuck 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 naked 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.
Dear Alisdair,
If you’re reading this, it means that things have gotten out of my control. It means I’ve had to leave you, probably forever, and I wrote this because I could not leave you without saying goodbye. Know that I did not leave you willingly, that I could not. I’d give my life to stay with you, but also know that I’d give you up to keep you safe. In a world full of lies, you were my truth. You were my light and my compass. I may have been cursed with a short life, but you made it worthwhile.
Do not wait for me. Please, move on, live a happy life. You deserve it, and I want that for you. I love you, and if you don’t believe any other thing I ever said to you, you should believe that. You were my first love and my last, but I shouldn’t be yours.
Yours forever,
Iris
BOOKS BY R.K. LILLEY
THE WILD SIDE SERIES
THE WILD SIDE - AVAILABLE NOW
IRIS - AVAILABLE NOW
DAIR - COMING JULY 25TH 2014
THE OTHER MAN - COMING SOON
TYRANT - COMING SOON
THE UP IN THE AIR SERIES
IN FLIGHT
MILE HIGH
GROUNDED
MR. BEAUTIFUL - COMING SOON
LANA (AN UP IN THE AIR COMPANION NOVELLA)
AUTHORITY - COMING SOON
THE TRISTAN & DANIKA SERIES
BAD THINGS
ROCK BOTTOM
LOVELY TRIGGER
THE HERETIC DAUGHTERS SERIES
BREATHING FIRE
CROSSING FIRE - COMING SOON
TEXT LILLEY + YOUR EMAIL ADDRESS TO 16782493375 TO JOIN MY EMAIL NEWSLETTER.
Click here to purchase my books on Amazon.
Visit my website for news and new releases here.
For email updates from Amazon, like my page here.
HERE’S A TEASER FROM DAIR (THE WILD SIDE #3) COMING JULY 25TH
DAIR
TWO MONTHS LATER
I pulled back into my drive with a sense of relief. I’d only been gone a week, but a week with my parents over the holidays was more than I wanted to deal with.
A week of pretending I was okay, that everything was normal, that it was the divorce that had me acting like a robot; asocial, going through the motions, quiet and stuck in my own head unless directly addressed.
But of course it wasn’t the divorce. I hardly thought of that anymore.
It was Iris. Or rather, the lack of Iris.
My parents had fallen back on protocol, making polite small talk. They were civilized and well-bred to a fault. They may have been worried, but they’d never pry. Even as a child, they’d always given me my space, too much so, at times.
It worked out for the best. There was nothing I wanted to talk to them about.
It had been a rough two months.
Two months of longing and mourning.
Two months of denying and grieving.
How perverse was it to realize just how off the deep end in love you were with a near stranger only after finding out that she was gone forever? Possibly dead.
Probably dead.
I could recite that cryptic last letter of hers by heart, and still, I wasn’t sure how to decipher its true meaning.
I wouldn’t be seeing her again.
Even after reading that letter a hundred times, I had to keep reminding myself of that. Even so, I looked for her at every turn, as though she’d just appear in front of me, like she had before.
She’d clearly been in some kind of serious trouble, but she’d never let me close enough to help her with it.
I was certain I could have kept her safe. That was the part I thought about the most—the what ifs.
What if she’d let me help her? What if she’d stayed close and let me keep her safe?
The letter had clearly implied that if I was receiving it she was likely dead, but I just couldn’t seem to accept it.
And as for moving on, I hadn’t been doing a bit of that. Instead, I’d been dwelling and obsessing, dreaming and fantasizing.
I’d started writing everything about her down. I didn’t want to forget.
The color of her hair. The depth of her eyes. The stubborn shape of her jaw. The way her lips shaped words with such expression. The way her voice made my chest ache. The way she gave advice beyond her years.
The way she listened like she cared about every word.
The way she made me feel—Alive.
E
very curve and hollow of her body was recorded, in my mind, and now my hard drive.
There was a bit of truth in every lie, and even if it had only been fed to me in the smallest increments, I wanted, needed to remember the real Iris.
I put my car in park and turned it off, sitting there for a time, summoning up the energy to get out.
I unloaded my car. Two small suitcases, very tidy, like my life used to be.
Now it was a sham, but I spent a lot of time and energy going through the motions, keeping everything in order.
In my mind, though, chaos reigned.
I’d taken to making a grueling daily schedule for myself, without a minute of idle time, and even while traveling, it never let up. If I allowed myself to indulge my feelings, such as they were, I’d take to my bed and never get up.
I entered the house via the laundry room. I was heading straight to my bedroom, but was stopped in my tracks one step into the living room.
I wasn’t alone. I had company.
Unwelcome company.
“You,” I breathed, suitcases dropping from both hands and hitting the ground with two loud, echoing thuds.
“Me,” he agreed.
The fucker in the Jaguar.
In my house.
“How did you get in here?”
He smiled a less than friendly smile. “Is that really the question you want to ask me?”
It felt like a tight hand squeezed my chest. “What happened to her?”
His mouth twisted bitterly. “Do you really care?”
I was trembling, I wanted to hit him so badly.
Was this the man responsible for my Iris going missing? What had he done to her?
I tried my best to hold onto my temper. “Yes. Yes, I care.” I swallowed hard, having to force the next part out. “Please, I’m begging you. Tell me what happened to her.”
He shook his head. “I can’t do that,” he said, and I lost it, charging him where he sat, my fist slamming into his stomach twice before he could react.
Theoretically, I knew how to fight, but I’d never used those skills in a serious fashion on a real target.