Page 78 of Wicked Fury

I let the water sluice over Iris’ body, rinsing away the remaining lather I’ve spread across her curves, the suds spiraling down the drain in a vortex.

“Want me to wash your hair?” I offer, my voice a soft growl against the soothing sound of the shower.

I have her full attention, green eyes fierce and unreadable. A shake of her head sends droplets flying as her dark waves cling to her shoulders; they catch the light, shimmering like tiny diamonds. “No,” she breathes out, lips barely moving.

“Okay.” The single syllable hangs between us.

With a sudden shift, Iris presses close, her hands sliding up my chest, fingers catching on the cross I wear—ironic, given the shit we’re steeped in. She stands on tiptoe, sliding her tongue across my lips before dropping back down. The faint taste of herself lingers from her little act.

“Your turn,” she murmurs, her breath just coasting along my skin before she sinks to her knees.

“Like what you see?” I tease, tilting my head down just to watch her work her magic on me.

“Shut up, Lincoln,” she retorts without missing a beat, her tone a mix of playful and stern.

Iris knows what she does to me, and she revels in it, her every touch deliberate, every glide of her palms forcing out a ragged breath from deep within me. I let out a low chuckle laced with the edge of surrender. “You’re full of surprises, angel.”

“Keep up, Blackwood.” That’s all the warning she gives me.

“Fuck,” I gasp, all breath and no bravado as her lips close around me. The heat of her mouth is hotter than the water that pelts down on us both.

She mumbles against me, her voice sending vibrations straight to my core.

“Damn, you feel incredible,” I groan, each word punctuated with a thrust that draws a whimper from her lips. My hands find their way into her chestnut waves, using them as the perfect anchor.

“More,” she breathes out, pulling off my cock before swallowing me back up, nails digging into the back of my thighs, drawing lines of fire down my legs. Her urgency is a drug, and I’m addicted to the way she unravels beneath my touch.

The air’s thick with steam and desire, and the sound—fuck, the sound of her taking me deeper is dark and seductive. It wouldn’t take much to steal all the air from her lungs. I can’t hold back the guttural groan that escapes me, the tiles amplifying the sounds.

“Like that?” I manage to choke out, watching her nod, her movements deliberate and slow, teasing out every shiver that racks through me. “You’re gonna make me lose my mind, angel.”

Her response is a hum and I feel it spiral down my spine. The wet noises, filthy and perfect, send me to the edge and I’m teetering.

“Jesus Christ, Iris...” My words are a mix of reverence and raunch, my voice bouncing off the walls. “That mouth of yours is downright sinful.”

“Look at you,” I breathe out, the sight of her beneath me etching itself into my memory, an image I’ll recall forever. “Don’t stop, angel. Don’t ever fucking stop.”

Heat coils in my gut, a burning tension wound tighter with every flick of Iris’ tongue. The steam from the shower clouds around us like a damn shroud, heat upon heat. My breaths come in short, ragged gasps, and the wet slap of skin echoes off the tiles. I’m close, teetering on the edge of a cliff she’s more than ready to push me over.

“Fuck, Iris... I’m—” The words dissolve into a raw groan as that creeping climax rips through me. Her name is a prayer, a curse, a confession all in one. I slap my hands against the shower wall as I release into her mouth. When the last spurts finally leaves my body, I feel myself relax as the tension bleeds out.

And then she pulls back, just enough, her green eyes locked on mine. There’s a challenge there, the same one that’s always simmered between us. She shows me my cum on her tongue, that smirk playing on her lips, before she swallows it down. It’s a move so full of power, so quintessentially Iris, it nearly knocks me backward.

“You’re something fucking else,” I pant, voice reduced to gravel.

The water shuts off with a finality that matches my heavy heartbeat. With no hesitation, I bend, arms sliding beneath her, muscles bunching as I lift her up from her knees. She’s light as air, or maybe I’m just fueled by this frenzy she’s caused within me.

“Lincoln Blackwood, a gentleman. Who would have known?” she teases, voice husky as it mingles with the dissipating steam.

“Only for you, angel. Don’t forget I’ll fuck you like an animal also.” My tone is a low growl, but the smile tugging at my lips betrays the affection laced within the rough timber. Her body pressed against mine; I carry her out of the bathroom, possessiveness thrumming in my veins.

The silken sheets greet her back as I lay Iris down before sliding myself between her legs. She wraps her limbs around me and our eyes lock; I notch myself between her thighs, the heat from her core inviting me in.

“Ready for me?” My voice is a low promise, and she nods.

I thrust into her, and her breath catches, a sound so sweet it’s almost sinful. The rhythm we set is primal, every movement laced with urgency.

“Linc...” Her whisper is a siren call, pulling me deeper into the abyss.

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