She sat up, sliding a hand down her body to her clit, which she started to rub eagerly. He nearly died again watching her pleasure herself on his cock.
“Fucking hell, Iris, that’s so sexy.”
“God, I love watching you,” she moaned, still rubbing herself. “The way your body moves. Watching you try to hold back.” She moaned again as her free hand ran up and down his abs, which clenched as he bucked his hips every time she sank down onto him.
“Your arms are so sexy over your head like that,” she purred. “I just want to lick and bite you everywhere and fuck you into oblivion until you forget your own name.”
He moaned, totally lost to her words, his hips rolling helplessly. “Fuck, baby, what are you doing do me?”
“Making you as crazy as you make me.” She rubbed faster. Rode him harder. His head spun. “I’m so close.”
“I want you to come all over me.”
“Meph...”
“Come for me, Iris. I need it. I fucking need to see you come.”
Her fingers rubbed faster, and her hips slammed down on him until her thighs were shaking from the effort, and he saw frustration bloom in her gaze. She was so close, hovering on the brink, but she couldn’t quite get there on her own.
It was all the permission he needed. Finally—fucking finally—he let go of the pillow, gripped her hips and held her still, and then proceeded to hammer into her from below. He fucked her as hard as he’d fucked her on the table. No, harder. He drove into her so hard, her entire bed frame lifted off the floor and slammed back down, over and over.
And then she cried out and started to come, and so did he at the sight of her above him, lost to her ecstasy.
While he was coming, something weird happened.
He looked at her—pleasuring herself, her head thrown back, blue hair tossing across her back, her pierced nipples begging to be sucked as her breasts bounced—and something awakened in his chest. It was an intense, all-consuming sensation that burned and ached and was simultaneously agonizing and the most amazing thing he’d ever felt.
It washer.
He wanted to lift her up like the monkey dude did to the baby lion in that Disney movie and revel in her glory. He wanted to lay her down on a bed of fucking flowers and just look at her. He wanted to pet her hair and smell her skin and bring her chocolate and whatever she wanted. He wanted to carry her around so she didn’t have to walk. He wanted to hear her laugh and see her smile and know that he was the cause of her happiness.
He just wanted her.
Not just her pussy. Not just sex. Buther. All of her. Everything about her. And he wanted it forever.
By the time they’d finished their orgasms and Iris collapsed with a contented sigh against him, he was going through a full-blown panic attack.
He hadn’t managed to draw a full breath since he’d started coming, and his head was spinning from the lack of oxygen. His hands had begun to shake, and the tremors were rapidly traveling to the rest of his body. His eyes opened, and he stared blankly at the ceiling in pure, unadulterated terror.
What the actual fuck is wrong with me?
Iris lifted her head. “Meph?”
He gasped like a fish out of water.
“Meph!” She jerked upright. “Are you okay?”
He stared at her in horror, absolutely terrified of her and everything she suddenly represented, and kept gulping uselessly at the air.
“What’s the matter?” Her eyes widened with alarm. “What’s wrong?”
He clutched uselessly at his chest.
She scrambled off him, and he lurched upright, twisting away to hang his legs over the edge of the bed and dropping his head between his knees.
“Just breathe.” Her hand rubbed soothing circles on his back. “Just breathe, that’s it. You’re okay.” She seemed to get that he was having a panic attack and kept tracing those soothing circles onto his back. “You’re okay.”
He finally gulped in a breath, his whole body shaking like a leaf.
