Page 162 of Iris
Screw reputations and scandal.
My family will survive, and I can be back by morning if I have to. But I can’t stand being in this house a second longer.
I switch my dancing shoes for my thick ass-kicking boots and shove pillows under my sheets. Then I turn out my light and sneak out by climbing down the trellis outside my window, like I used to do when I’d meet with Quinn.
And then?
I run.
It’s freeing, wild, to sneak through the quiet shadows of the treelined streets of the Upper Side.
My heart misses a few beats as I hear voices. Footsteps. Sometimes close, other times it seems far away, but the noise grows as the neighborhood changes. Soon, I’m in midtown which is pretty dead except for where it starts to meet the Lower Side.
I switch to the streets and start to move away from the water. As I come to round an apartment building, I slam into a girl with a suitcase, who shoves me to the ground and runs.
A bit stunned, I pick myself up.
A guy dressed in dark clothes runs after her, dodging me, and saying, “You never saw us, Omega,” as he passes.
My heart clenches. Is she in trouble? But the girl stops and hands the case to him, and then they disappear to where the near distant sound of a boat is coming from, where the boardwalk is. The apartment building is on the edge, next to a thin spate of parkland, right before the boardwalk and water.
It’s so odd, it sticks with me. His cheap suit, dark hair, and dismissive Alpha attitude that stinks of bureaucracy… She’s blonde, small, and smells of gasoline. A Delta.
Not my business.
I pick myself up just as I shadow falls over me. Hands grab my shoulders.
“Gotcha.”
CHAPTER
FORTY-SEVEN
Killian
Her fists start to fly, but I bring her close to shut her up in the easiest way I can think of.
I kiss her.
The mix of fear, shock, and anger is an aphrodisiac to me, and I take her mouth there on the street, her body plastered to mine.
She’s divine, earthy, an esoteric mix of what I want and never knew I desired. Her innocence shines through, even though both Xavier and I have done our best to sully her and shred that innocence.
She reaches up, grabs my hair and pulls it, ripping my mouth from hers.
Iris licks my throat, rising up, and then she bites me hard, sucking like she wants me maimed, wants her claim staked.
I laugh and turn her, pushing her into the shadows of the low-lit area, right up against the wall of the apartment building. Inside the wall is a courtyard. It’s still on the edge of theLower Side, a melting pot of well-off and working class, of social climbers and criminals.
Pressing up against her, I kiss her throat, using the cloak to hide my hand as I pull up her skirt from the dance and do the thing I wanted to do the moment I saw her.
Finger fuck her.
Okay, I want more than that, but it’ll do, and her cunt is so glorious with my fingers stretching it. Stroking up into that soft and tight space is a special reward in and of itself.
She’s so fucking wet and ready that she starts to pulsate and spasm in minutes. I let her come before whipping my hand away.
Then I drag the hood over her head and tuck her in close, holding her tight. “What the fuck are you doing out here?”
