"You taste like heaven," I murmur, voice hoarse. "Best thing I've ever had in my mouth."
She stares up at me, eyes wide and unfocused, lips parting without a single word escaping. I dip my head to kiss her, letting her taste herself on my tongue, and she moans into my mouth while her hands scramble up to grip my shoulders. I pull back, taking in her face. Flushed. Dazed. Beautiful. "I need to be inside you," I tell her. "But we're going slow. You tell me if it hurts. You tell me if you want to stop. Understood?" She nods, swallowing hard. "Understood." I reach down, wrapping my hand around my cock, then position myself at her entrance. Fuck She's soaked, dripping onto the sheets, but I still hesitate. "Breathe baby," I say.
She takes a shaky breath, nodding at me to continue, and I push in, just the tip, watching her face contort as her brows draw together. "Hurt?" I ask, stilling inside her.
"Pressure," she whispers back. "Keep going." I push in another inch, feeling her body stretching around me, and she gasps with her hands flying to my biceps, nails sinking into muscle. Fuck, she's tight. So tight I can barely move without feeling like every nerve in my body is catching fire. I hold myself still, letting her adjust, trailing kisses across her forehead, hercheek, the edge of her jaw. "You're perfect," I breathe against her skin. "Taking me so well. So fucking brave."
"More," she breathes. I push in deeper. Halfway now. She whimpers, and I freeze. "Don't stop," she says quickly. "Please don't stop." I sink in the rest of the way, burying myself to the hilt. She cries out, arching her back off the bed. I stay motionless, every muscle in my body locked tight. My cock pulses inside her, begging me to move, but I won't. Not until she's ready.
"Talk to me," I grit out. "How do you feel?"
"Full," she pants. "So full. It's... it's a lot."
"I know, baby. I know." I brush damp hair off her forehead. "You're incredible. Look at you, taking all of me. Doing so fucking good." She shifts her hips experimentally. I hiss through my teeth. "Move," she says. "I want you to move." I pull out slowly, almost all the way, then push back in. She moans, throwing her head back against the pillow. I set a slow rhythm. In and out. Deep and steady. Her hands roam my back, my chest, my arms, like she doesn't know what to do with them. "Ilay," she gasps. "Oh god, Ilay." Hearing my name on her lips like that does something to me. Something primal. I pick up the pace, thrusting harder, and she meets me halfway, lifting her hips to take me deeper. "That's it," I praise. "Just like that. You feel what you do to me? How hard you make me?" She nods frantically, eyes squeezed shut. "Look at me," I command. Her eyes flutter open, locking with mine. "Good girl," I say. "Such a good fucking girl."
She clenches around me at the words, and I nearly lose it right there. I pull out, rolling onto my back and bringing her with me. "Ride me," I say. "I want to watch you." She hesitates for a moment, then straddles my hips, positioning herself over mycock before sinking down slowly. Her mouth falls open as she takes me in. "Oh fuck," she whispers. "That's it, Iris. Take what you need." I grip her hips, guiding her movements as she finds her rhythm. "You look so beautiful like this. Perfect. Absolutely fucking perfect."
She starts moving, rolling her hips experimentally as she searches for a rhythm. Clumsy at first, uncertain and hesitant, but then she finds it and picks up speed, growing bolder with every passing second. "Yes," I groan, my hands sliding up her thighs. "Just like that. You're doing amazing, baby. So good for me."
Her palms flatten against my chest, nails dragging across my skin as she bounces on my cock, her breasts swaying beautifully with each movement.
I reach up and cup them, thumbing her nipples, rolling them between my fingers until she throws her head back, a broken moan escaping her. "Oh god."
"God's not fucking you," I tell her, a dark laugh escaping my throat. "It's me, Iris. Only me."
She looks down at me, and something shifts behind her eyes, sharpening into focus. She slows her movements deliberately, rising up until only the tip of my cock remains inside her before pausing, holding me there on the edge of madness.
I groan and try to thrust up, but she lifts higher, keeping me hovering right at her entrance with a control I didn't know she had. "Iris," I warn her.
"I want something," she tells me, her voice surprisingly steady despite the flush burning across her cheeks. "Anything," I grit out, desperate. "Just move." She sinks down halfway beforestopping again, holding herself there while my fingers dig into the soft flesh of her hips.
"My family," she says, watching my face. "You keep your threats and your violence away from them. They live their lives without looking over their shoulders." I tense beneath her, every muscle going rigid.
"Iris—" She clenches around me, squeezing tight, and my words dissolve into a strangled groan.
"Say yes," she demands, rising up until only the tip of me stays inside her.
"That's not—" She slams down hard, burying me to the hilt, and I curse, head thrown back against the pillows.
She grinds her hips in slow deliberate circles, then lifts again, leaving me aching. "Say. Yes."
"Fuck," I pant, struggling to think. "Iris, you don't understand—"
She stops moving entirely, sitting perfectly still with me barely inside her, watching me with those sharp eyes like she can see right through me. "I understand perfectly," she says. "My family lives. Your staff lives. No more killing people, Ilay."
My jaw clenches tight because every instinct I have is fighting to say no, to take back control, to remind her who she's dealing with, but she grinds down just slightly and whatever I was about to say disappears.
"You're asking too much," I manage, voice wrecked. She leans forward, pressing her breasts against my face while moving agonizingly slow, and I groan into her skin, my mouth finding her nipple without thinking.
"Am I?" she whispers against my ear. Then she pulls back, rising to the tip again. "Because it seems like you need me more than I need you right now."
She's right. Fuck, she's right. "And therapy," she continues, sinking down inch by torturous inch. "You'll go back to therapy and Anger management too."
"Iris—" She clenches again, and I nearly come right there.
"Say yes, Ilay." I try to buck up into her, but she rises with me, keeping the same shallow depth. She's in complete control and she knows it. "When I marry you," she says, grinding down slow, "I continue being a lawyer. My career doesn't end."
"Yes," I gasp. "Fine. Yes."
