Desire resurges, overtaking me like a hurricane. I pull her to her feet and lift her. She wraps her legs around my waist, and her forehead drops to rest against mine as I walk us to the bed. Our breaths meet, a sultry congress between our mouths. I lay her down like she might break, but I already know I’m gonna fuck her like she’s indestructible.
How can I not?
Dark hair streams behind her, and I study her for long minutes, determined not to rush this. She’s small. Her shoulders are slim, her breasts full, her waist narrow, and her hips flared. A master craftsman took his time with the dips and lines of her body, ensuring symmetry. He exaggerated her curves, balancing them to perfection.
With one knee, I nudge her leg to the side. Taking my cue, she silently opens both wide.
“I want to look at you.” I glance between her legs, waiting for her subtle nod. I push her legs up until her knees are bent and she’s completely exposed to me. A self-conscious laugh slips past her lips.
“August.” She covers her face, hiding her eyes. “Are you just gonna stare at it all night?”
“Definitely not.” With my hand under her ass, I guide her up to me and swipe my tongue through her wet folds. Her taste, her smell, the silky heat of her saturates my senses. I press my palms inside her thighs, widening her even more until that bud buried between her lips plumps and rises, begging to be sucked, bitten, consumed. I comply, giving her clit the complete and undivided attention it deserves, while one hand slides up her torso to twist and pluck her nipple.
“Oh my God.” Her hips buck into my face. Her back arches. Inch by inch, her body loses control, loses inhibition. When I probe her entrance, rolling my tongue tight enough to slip into the small opening, her hands claw into my hair and rake over my shoulders. God, she’s wild. She presses the arch of her foot on my shoulder, urging my face deeper between her legs. She grinds against my lips, and I love every hot, juicy second of it.
Her orgasm is an infinite refrain of whimpers and moans, a keening sound set loose in her throat. She unravels before my eyes, liquefying right into my hands, her lips moving in a soundless, sensual prayer.
She’s limp and sated. She got hers. She took it, and I love that. I shower her shoulders and breasts with kisses like she’s the only girl in the world, because for me she is. I glide my fingers over her clit, inserting one, two, three fingers until she’s fucking my hand so hard, the headboard knocks the wall. She wrestles with her passion, pinning it down and then bucking wildly when it flips her and regains control. I love her wanton and disorderly.
I suckle at one breast and continue working between her thighs. Her eyes glaze over. Her mouth slackens with unrelenting pleasure. I lick the underside of her breast, my open mouth kissing the curve.
“Oh, God, August,” she says hoarsely. “Now. Please now.”
I get up to grab my sweatpants and pull a condom from my wallet. It’s on before I even make it to the bed. Her eyes fix hungrily on my cock. I pump it lightly, as much for me as for her.
“It’s all yours, Iris.” I settle between her hips and thighs, relishing this last moment of mystery when I haven’t known this part of her. The moment before a miracle of intimacy, when we merge and for those moments, become one.
I plan to ease in, take my time, but as soon as my cock gets that first taste, I surrender to a force that is almost centripetal, drawing me in deeper. I plunge into the tight clutch of her body. She folds around me as I enter. When I withdraw, there’s a reluctant letting go. With every thrust, she takes more of me. Her body is the call, and mine is the response.
“Holy shit, Iris,” I groan into her neck.
I’ve never had anything like this. Not just her pussy, though the tight, wet grip of her is the best I’ve ever had. No, I’ve never felt anything like this. Like my soul is being turned inside out. Does she feel this, too? I rear up on my elbows to watch the answering passion play across her face. I dip to kiss her, and the contact ignites a scorching intercourse of lips and teeth. We’re mouths clashing, hips colliding, and hearts pounding in tandem, in sync. This feeling is sorcery. Her touch is a spell, and Iris? She’s my witch.
She goes first, her hands shaking as she cups my face, her head tipping back into the pillow, the elegant line of her neck straining and exposed. I rut unrelentingly, pounding between her legs, gripping her thigh tightly, holding onto her for dear life because I’m coming apart. Splintering. Parts of me peel away, falling at her feet.
“Don’t stop,” she whispers. “More, August. I didn’t know it could be . . . I had no idea. Oh, God, I had no idea.”
The awe in her words and in her eyes undoes me. I grip her neck, nipping at her lips and muttering words of worship into the untamed spill of her hair.
I empty myself of all I was before and take whatever she has to give. There’s a newness when our eyes meet—wonder in the laughter we share while I hold her. We don’t speak, but there’s eloquence in our fingertips, in our hands as we touch and explore. Our bodies commune, confess.
I don’t have to say the words.
She knows I’m hers.
Iris
“Okay if I move that one here,” I say, shifting a number on my spreadsheet, “then I could put that over here.”
I move fifty dollars from the column marked electric bill and squint at the bottom line like it might have grown bigger when I look back.
Nope. Still a tiny amount of money to live on after the bills are all paid.
Paid-ish.
I’ll call on the water bill to see if I can get an extension.
I’m still doing the dollar shuffle at my makeshift desk, also known as the dining room table, when a pair of huge hands slides under my arms to cup my breasts through my T-shirt. My nipples instantly pebble beneath the cotton, and my breath constricts. August’s thumbs tease the tips of my breasts, and he sucks at the curve of my neck.
“Come back to bed, Iris,” he says huskily. “You know I have to leave soon and I reeeeeeeally need to fuck you again.”
The words stroke a finger along my clit.
This man.
I had no idea—no earthly idea sex could be so addictive and satisfying and transformational. Every time August is inside me, I feel different afterwards. Like we’re swapping atoms—I’m taking some of him and giving so much of me.
I used to think Lo was being silly when she said I settled for sex with Caleb because I had nothing to compare it to. Boy, was I wrong. I want to write letters to Cosmo about my experience. Diary of the Previously Underwhelmed.
Maybe that could make me a little change on the side . . .
“Okay,” August whispers. “Don’t make me pull out all the stops.”
“Is that a metaphor for your dick?” I laugh when he twists my nipples.
Also, I may leak a little.
“My dick doesn’t need a metaphor to know how awesome it is. It’s a literal dick, and I will literally pull it out whenever you want. It’s at your service.” He laughs at his own joke into my shoulder. “No, I meant the oral. That seems to always get you.”
August has a talented tongue, and it’s in league with his teeth and lips to drive me crazy every time we make love.
#Keeper.
Some things, like brain-bursting orgasms, never get old.