Page 65 of Someone to Tempt
“Okay.” Her voice is little more than a squeak, which makes me grin even harder.
The breath whooshes out of my lungs because she’s taken off not only her bra, but the leggings as well. Her cheeks and chest are flushed with color, and she’s having trouble looking me in the eye, like it’s not easy for her to stand in front of me naked.
“You’re so beautiful, Iris.”
“I’m so naked,” she replies.
I’m not going to say out loud how much that makes her all the more beautiful to me, but I take a step closer and use one finger to trace the shallow indentation from her shoulder to the swell of her breast where the bra strap left a mark.
“These poor, imprisoned ladies. Finally earning some well-deserved freedom.” I cup her breasts in my palms, and it’s no surprise they’re a perfect fit.
“It’s better when they’re not bouncing around.”
I trace my thumbs across her pebbled nipples, and she draws in an unsteady breath. “Bounce away, girls.”
She laughs and then hooks one finger in the waistband of my sweatpants. “You’re overdressed for this occasion.”
It takes me seconds to yank down my sweats and boxers and step out of them. My cock springs free and juts out like it’s straining for attention. No surprise, given that it feels like I could pound nails with it.
Iris’s eyes widen in—oh, yeah, that’s appreciation, and my cock hardens even more, which I didn’t think was even possible.
I draw her forward, and we step into the shower with the spray at her back. Iris tips up her head, giving me access to the graceful column of her neck as water cascades over us. I kiss and nibble her soft skin until she jerks away with a yelp.
“No hickeys,” she commands, holding my face between her hands and looking deep into my eyes. “This isn’t high school, Byrne, and I’m not a fan of turtlenecks.”
“I wouldn’t even think about marking you.”
It’s a bald-faced lie. I want to mark every inch of her skin so the whole damn world knows she’s mine. I want to get her a biker jacket emblazoned with the words “Property of Jake Byrne,” which is embarrassingly primitive, especially knowing that my independent woman doesn’t belong to anyone but herself.
Which is one of the things I lo?—
Nope, not going there. It’s one of the things Iappreciatemost about her.
“No hickeys,” I promise, and one corner of her mouth tips up before she fuses her mouth to mine.
We kiss for minutes or maybe hours. Finally, I grab the bar of soap and lather up my hands, then move them across her body. I could stay like this for hours, especially when I glide my hand around her hip and down to the juncture of her legs, sliding one finger through her soft folds.
She bites down on my lip in response. Not hard enough to draw blood, and in this case, the pain is pleasure. I move my hand so I can push two fingers inside her while using my thumb to press against her clit. We’re still kissing, our tongues tangled together, and I’m gathering her soft, sexy moans inside my mouth like I’m lost in the desert and catching raindrops on my parched tongue.
Those moans turn into cries, and she grips my shoulders like she’d melt into a puddle on the shower floor if I weren’t holding her steady. That works for me. I wrap an arm around her waist as I speed up the rhythm of my fingers. Then I pull out. She offers a whimper of protest, but it’s drowned out almost immediately by a sharpened cry as I gently squeeze her clit between two fingers.
As good as it feels to make her tumble over the edge from my touch, it only makes me want more. It makes me want to bury myself inside her and stay there forever, like she’s my actual home.
Despite the longing pounding through me, I’m happy to let her revel in her release all day if she needs it, so damn self-satisfied that I’m the one to give her that pleasure. Her forehead rests against my chest, and I wait until her breathing starts to return to a normal rhythm before opening the shower door.
As much as I’d love to take her right here against the wall, there’s not enough room for my need to spread her out in front of me.
“Bedroom,” I manage, my voice shaking. I open the shower door then still when her hand grips my arm.
She looks up at me with those big brown eyes. “We’re not going anywhere yet.”
25
IRIS
“Sweetheart, waiting isn’t an option.”
Instead of answering, I close the shower door and drop to my knees in front of him.
