Page 59 of Devil's Iris
“You’re so fucking wet…dripping.” His words vibrate against my neck. “And it’s all for me.”
The possessiveness in his voice hits me like a jolt, my pulse pounding so hard all I can hear is the frantic thump-thump-thump in my ears, my skin burning with uncontrollable need. “Romero, please,” I groan, pressing into his hand as sweat slicks down my spine. “Stop teasing me.”
He smiles up at me, dark and feral. “I’ll do whatever the hell I want with you.”
Before I can retort, he presses harder, his fingers working their way inside of me, and I cry out, the world blurring around the edges as the sensation builds—tight, overwhelming,magnificent. My body moves with his instinctively, desperately seeking more of this exquisite torture.
Just as I’m losing myself completely, the car jerks around a corner, but instead of breaking the spell, it only drives me higher. Right now,nothingmatters except this heat between us, this relentless pressure coiling tighter and tighter.
I’m never going to be the same again after this.
The realization sparks something bitter at the back of my throat. Something familiar. Fear. I must be a masochist, because fuck if it doesn’t only escalate my pleasure.
Then Romero’s mouth closes over my exposed shoulder, his tongue flicking out to taste my pulse as he curls his fingers inside me—and I explode.
My body tenses for one suspended moment before convulsing against him as waves of pleasure crash over me, making me gasp and shudder.
I can’t stop it.
I don’t want to.
The orgasm rips through me with the force of a hurricane, leaving me breathless and trembling in his hold. And still his fingers don’t relent, coaxing me through every jagged wave, the sensations so sharp and intense, they feel like they’re carving something new into my soul.
I cling to him, my nails digging into his skin, and I hear him groan low, almost in strained satisfaction, as I collapse against his chest, fighting to remember how to breathe.
When he finally pulls his hand away, I feel an aching emptiness. But the lingering warmth of his touch is still there,stamped on me like an imprint I know damn well isn’t ever going to fade.
His chest rises and falls with each breath, taking me with him since I’m draped across him. When I feel strong enough to move, I push up, meeting his gaze.
There’s hunger there. Possessiveness. And for one terrifying, intoxicating second, I wonder if he knows just how much he’s consumed me. How much heownsme in this moment.
But I don’t have time to think about it because the car rolls to a stop. We’re home, and with it, reality comes crashing in.
Holy fuck. Did his driver hear us?
I scramble off his lap, deliberately ignoring the obvious strain in his pants. My hands shake as I fumble with the door handle for several breathless seconds before he leans over me, his chest pressing into my back. I go rigid at the sudden heat of him, but then just as quickly, it’s gone.
The door clicks open, and I’m out.
I don’t dare look back. I all but bolt into the house, heart ricocheting wild and frantic.
What the hell was that?
I jog up the stairs to my bedroom—no,hisbedroom. A bedroom we’re going to share starting next week.
Oh God.
On shaky legs, I slip into the bathroom, lock the door behind me, and sag against it, chest heaving with my breath. We didn’t even take our clothes off for me to experience heaven. What will happen when we actually have sex?
Did he feel the same intensity I did? Or is this just what happens when you have your first orgasm with a man?
No… deep down, I know it wasn’t just that. Not any man could lift me to that height. Only Romero.
I’m so screwed.
I spend the rest of the night locked in the room like a coward, and the next morning I wait until I hear the sound of his car leaving before I dare to step out. No matter how much I try to psych myself up, I’m too embarrassed to face him.
Just act normal. It was just an orgasm. People have them all the time.
