Fucking Iris and her blue fucking hair and hot-and-cold attitude.
One minute she was in mega-bitch mode, and the next she was all heated looks and apologies.Apologies. He still couldn’t believe that.
He wanted to bunch all that hair up in his hands and hold her head back. He wanted to see where else she had tattoos on that slender, lithe body. He wanted to see that saucy little mouth stretch wide as he fit his cock between her lips.
His hips actually rolled a little at the thought. Damn it, he was going to embarrass himself in front of everyone if he didn’t get a hold of his urges.
A thousand years later, he became distantly aware that the movie credits were rolling, and he could have cried with relief. Somewhere far away, he heard Belial’s rumbling bass voice suggesting they make drinks followed by hearty agreement from everyone else, but Meph wasn’t really aware of it.
The group began migrating into the kitchen. Music started playing, covering the hum of conversation. He was aware of Raum giving him a strange look when he didn’t make any effort to get off the couch and join them. But there was no way he was standing up right now.
Raum disappeared a moment later with Iris’s hound in his arms, and then, suddenly, everyone was gone.
Everyone except Meph and Iris.
The hand not covering his hard-on gripped the couch like he was holding on for dear life, and he stared straight ahead, jaw clenched. Why wasn’t she leaving? He could feel her gaze on him, but fuck, if he looked at her he was going to lose it.
And damn it, she was staring at his lap. He chanced a glance down at it and cursed himself for wearing sweats (like he did every day, but still) because, even with his hand carefully draped, there was a pretty obvious dick outline in the fabric. And with how closely Iris was watching him, there was no way she was missing it.
He breathed a curse and then finally just looked at her. There was no ignoring the elephant in the room, and he was not some juvenile virgin. So maybe he’d had some hang-ups recently, but that didn’t mean he’d suddenly lost all his game.
The minute his eyes met Iris’s, he knew she was as horny as he was. And fuck if that didn’t make him even hornier.
Amazing. He hadn’t thought that was possible.
He was so indescribably horny, in fact, that he suddenly knew that he wasn’t going to freak out if she touched him like he did with other females. He wanted her so badly that his body was overriding whatever wires were crossed in his brain.
Neither of them spoke, but their faces were getting closer and closer, and their breathing was getting heavier and heavier, and they were both throwing off some serious heat.
There was only so much a man could take.
He shifted his arm, and his cock sprang up like a jack-in-the-box. Iris’s gaze flicked to it, and she panted. She honest-to-godpantedat the sight of the hard-on tenting his pants, and he’d be damned if that wasn’t the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.
He twisted around on the couch toward her, and she did the same to him, and the sexual tension was so thick in the air he could taste it.
And finally, fina-fucking-lly, their faces were close enough that their mouths kinda brushed. It wasn’t really a kiss. It was more just heavy breathing on each other, which was a bit weird, but man, it was hot as hell the way her breath gusted in and out against his lips.
He bridged the gap a little more, increasing the point of contact. The tiniest gasp escaped her, and his cock jumped at the sound. He could feel pre-cum leaking out already, and she hadn’t even touched him.
He wanted to say something. He was the master at saying dumb kinky shit to make girls hot for him, but right now, he couldn’t think of anything. He couldn’t think, period. He just brushed Iris’s lips again, nearly coming in his pants when another one of those tiny gasps blew against his mouth.
“Last chance to run away,” he croaked.
He’d meant it to sound all ominous and threatening, but it came out breathless because of how stupidly turned on he was.
She didn’t run. She didn’t do anything at all except breathe shakily against his lips, and that sealed her fate.
He finally just went for it. He extracted his hand from its white-knuckled grip on the couch arm, twisted the rest of the way around, and threaded his fingers into her silky blue hair. And then he used that hand to pull her closer, and he kissed her hard.
She moaned against his mouth, and he swore he came a little.
There was too much pent-up tension between them to waste time with teasing, exploratory kisses. He pried her lips apart and thrust his tongue into her mouth. She was right there with him, twining her tongue against his, reaching over to clench his shoulders and dig her sharp little fingernails into his skin through his shirt.
Seconds later, he was rubbing her pussy through her pants, and she was digging her fingers into his abs while trying to smother her moans against his mouth. He wasn’t even sure how things had escalated so quickly. She was so wet for him, her leggings were damp against his hand, and the way she was panting and writhing told him he could make her come without too much effort.
He twisted further toward her on the couch, pressing her against the cushions and covering her with his bigger body. She spread her legs wider to make room for him, one of them bent up against the back of the couch, and rolled her hips into his hand as if craving more friction.
Happy to fulfill that need, he shoved his hand into her leggings. They were tight and it was awkward as hell, nowhere near enough room for him to maneuver properly, but it didn’t seem to matter. She was soaked, and his fingers slid through the wetness like she was trying to suck him inside her.
