Oh.Fuck.
The word hits in a way entirely unexpected, and my balls draw up tight. I’ve never been called that before, never thought I’d like the implication, but with Iris it feels right. I want to be that for her; her safe place, her firm hand, the man who makes her feel better than anyone.
“Good girl,” I grit out, barely hanging on.
My fingers find her clit and stroke, and she whimpers, pleading, “Say it again.”
I lower myself flush over her, taking her mouth in a bruising kiss. “You’re my good girl, Iris. So fucking perfect.”
And with that, she clenches tight around my shaft, mouth opening around a silent moan as she comes. I pull her tight against me, a guttural growl tearing from me as I finally spill into her in a rough, messy release.
The first thing I notice coming back to reality is Iris’s face turned away, her eyes pressed shut. Concern lances through me, and I climb off her, heart racing.
“Shit, Iris. Are you okay?”
She shakes her head, not meeting my gaze, and I silently curse. I knew I shouldn’t have let go. She forces her gaze to mine, and what I see there is like a punch in the heart.
She’s crying.
“Fuck,” I mutter, reaching for her, then withdrawing my hand. I’m probably the last person she wants touching her right now. “What can I do, baby? I’m so sorry.”
She blinks. “What? No—” She wriggles closer, wiping her eyes. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to get emotional.”
“You can get emotional, sweetheart. That’s okay. Did I do something…”
“No. God. Aidan.” She leans in, pressing her mouth to mine. “I just… I didn’t know sex could be like that. It was amazing. Too good.”
Relief washes cool over me, and I tug her into my arms, tight against my chest. “Shit, you scared me. I thought I was too rough.”
“You were perfect,” she murmurs, trailing a finger through my chest hair. “It was like the sex of my fantasies.”
Wow.
“Mine too,” I admit, then realize that’s a lie. “No, it was better.” I stroke a hand gently across her hair. “When you called me that…” I swallow, not sure how to address it in the afterglow of sex, but needing her to know. “It did something to me.”
“Me too,” she whispers. “I never thought I’d want to call a guy that… until I met you.”
I press my lips to her hair, breathing in her sweet orange blossom scent. “And I’m so fucking glad you met me.” I release her gently, rising to fetch a washcloth from the bathroom, then lower myself between her legs, wiping up my mess. Iris watches me reverently, like it’s the first time a guy has ever bothered, and it makes my chest tight. She’d better get used to it.
When I climb back into bed, she curls into my side. “Is it okay if I sleep like this?” she asks quietly, as if I might say no.
“You’d better sleep like that.” I squeeze her. “Otherwise, I’ll come looking for you in the night.”
She laughs, reaching over to turn off the lamp before softening against me. “I don’t want to go back to the city,” she whispers.
“I know. It’s going to be… complicated.”
“How will we…” she begins, then seems to let the question die before it’s asked, as if she can’t bear to hear the answer.
“We’ll have to be careful,” I say, thinking aloud. “Make sure we don’t do anything at work.”
She lets out a quiet sigh, and I feel the need to reassure her.
“This is real for me, Iris. I know the circumstances aren’t ideal,” I add, not letting myself think about John, about the risk I’m taking with my career. “But you and me… I want this with you, even if it’s messy.”
“I want that too,” she whispers.
Her lips find mine in the dark, soft and sweet, and it’s the best fucking feeling. Having her here in my arms, finally.
