Page 115 of Touch

She laughs. Who’s the selfish one now?

Andrew swoops down, claiming her lips and stealing her breath. His hot tongue entwines with hers, pulling a moan from the back of Iris’s throat.

Her toes curl. The crease of her pussy aches, as it routinely does with him. The desire never wanes; rather, it ignites swiftly. And frequently.

With another moan, Iris inches back before her concentration breaks and she ends up dragging him into the forest. It would not be the first time they’ve fucked against a tree.

“I was thinking about this bridge,” she confides, scraping her fingers lightly over the front of his coat. “It could have been a secret place once, where people from different worlds met and crossed the threshold to each other. Might that have been possible?”

Andrew runs his mouth over hers. “In my head, anything’s possible.”

“Good,” she says, pleased.

With a naughty smirk, he bites her lip, then tugs her forward. “Come. I have a surprise for you.”

Iris hopes that surprise involves their bed. She’s about to follow, but the air shifts. The force sweeps through and grows thicker, colder. The sensation comes from some distance behind her, and she wants to turn and look, but the hairs along her arms stand up, warning her not to.

Then again. When has she ever listened to reason?

Iris cranes her head over her shoulder. But there’s nothing there. Just a dome of stars, a vista of trees, and snow embossed in silver.

Except something is different. A presence lingers nearby, as if she and her beloved are being watched by a figment. Someone with a temperamental heartbeat—a pulse that races like a firestorm—is watching her.

Yet the breeze isn’t dangerous. It’s lonely.

Lost. Protective.

The wind strokes her cheek. Sympathy floods her chest for whoever’s out there alone and yearning, looking out for her. Iris wishes she could answer them, touch them back with her fingers, if only to offer comfort. Somehow, she knows the specter had once offered the same to her.

“Iris,” Andrew says. “You okay?”

“I am now,” she says to the forest, hoping the figure hears her.

Just in case, Iris raises her free hand toward the woods, not quite a wave but hopefully an assurance. Perhaps they’ve encountered one another before.

With her other hand clasped in Andrew’s, she steps with him toward the village, suspecting she won’t feel that rush again. Eventually, she might even forget it.

***

Andrew covers Iris’s eyes as he guides them into her office. Her arms extend in front of her, grasping nothing but air. With a grudge, she stumbles forward, trying to wrestle his hands from her face.

“Release me,” she demands.

“Keep walking,” he orders. “I’m going to surprise you with something you’ll like. Then after that…” He lets the sentence hang for a moment, provoking an influx of wicked thoughts. “I’ll touch your fiendish mouth, beautiful tits, and sweet pussy until—”

“Let me go. Let me go this instant!”

Chuckling, Andrew removes his palms from her eyelids. “Selfish creature.”

Indeed. Thankfully, Ulrik isn’t home. The man is tolerable most days and approves of Iris’s “give-no-fucks” attitude, but because Andrew is skilled at sex, this makes it impossible for her to come quietly. Iris has lost count of the times her beloved has covered her shouting mouth while she convulsed around his cock, to the point where she’s bitten his palm and drawn blood. And despite the size of this house, Ulrik has rebuked them on more than one occasion to “dial that shit down.”

But tonight, Ulrik is working late. Therefore, Iris and Andrew can holler to the stars if they wish. Better yet, she will make her beloved roar.

Iris is about to flip around and attack Andrew when she notices what he’s done. A telescope tied with a silver ribbon stands beside the high windows, its neck pointed to the hemisphere. She had mentioned wanting one after they’d read an enigmatic passage in the journal archiving their relationship. Something about the stars and how there’s one that refuses to shine. Perhaps she can locate it.

That is not all. A mural of the night sky is painted on the ceiling, constellations branching out from the reeded ceiling lamp and extending to the crown molding. Andrew must have done this while she’d been idling beside the woods.

One of the constellations consists of five stars. Yet another oddity that feels familiar.

---