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.”
“No, thank you.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m not here to use you. I have a feeling you’ve had a bit too much of that in your life, Dair.”
“You wouldn’t be using me. I’m offering, for me, because it would make me feel better to know you have a safe way to get around.”
She patted my knee and didn’t say another word about it, no matter what I said. It was infuriating. She was as stubborn as she was sweet.
Sweet and affectionate. Even as she drove, she kept reaching over to touch me, sweet touches, stroking my cheek, rubbing my shoulder, patting my hand.
I was still tired, still sleepy, but I sat there like a stone, hands on my knees, while she did it.
It feels nice to be touched, I mused.
It was comforting, it occurred to me, and I was surprised by the thought.
CHAPTER EIGHT
I fell asleep the second I laid myself out on my bed and more than half-expected to wake up alone.
But I didn’t, this time.
I roused wrapped around her, her little blonde head burrowed under my chin, one of her arms thrown over my ribs, her blunt nails tracing soft patterns onto my back.
It was still light out, so it couldn’t be that late. I was relieved. I wanted more of her and not tomorrow.
Today.
Now.
My hand stroked over her soft hair, and she shifted back to look at me, her gaze very alert, as though she hadn’t slept at all.
I took her face in both hands and started kissing. It was a slow, open-mouthed kiss. Wet and warm and perfect. I would have been happy just to stay in bed and keep kissing her like that, but she went limp, then started moaning, and I knew it wouldn’t be enough for long.
My hands started wandering. She was wearing a white T-shirt, one of mine, I thought, but I quickly discovered that she wore nothing underneath.
She’d showered while I slept, I could tell. Her hair was dry, but she smelled like my soap. My inner mouth-breather (the one that was just now coming forth) loved that, relished that it marked her as mine.
I pulled away from her soft mouth with a gasp, buried my face in her neck, and took the deepest breath. This thing between us, this insane energy that took me over when she came near, didn’t seem to be fading the more I had her.
It was the opposite.
I really hoped she wasn’t going to disappear from my life anytime soon, but I was very aware that I had little to no control over that.
She pulled away suddenly, shifted her body out from under mine, and moved away.
I blinked, once, twice, trying to shift gears, attempting to keep up with whatever was going on, but my body was not cooperating.
“We need to eat,” she told me, her face and voice unreadable. “We skipped lunch, and it’s time for dinner. I’m starving.”