She shakes her head.
“I know, but I can’t take it if there’s nothing to take.”
I push up, hovering over her.
“What do you mean there’s nothing to take?”
“There’s no lust in your heart right now,” she explains.
“No, that’s impossible. There’s always something for you. I always want you.”
Not a day goes by that I don’t want Iris. I’ll be dead in my grave, and I’ll dream of her. In fact, I think she may be theonlything I want.
If it’s not lust that’s drawn me here, then what is it? Why have I clawed my way into her bed if I have nothing to offer her? If I cannot love her, and I cannot feed her, what use am I?
The mere thought of failing her chokes me, and tears spring to my eyes as the dampener clamps down, cutting off my air supply.
Iris panics when they start to spill over.
“Elliot? Elliot!”
Her pretty, brown eyes are wide as I look down at her, and I watch helplessly as she starts to panic.
“Elliot, you have to breathe!” she shouts. “I need you—I need you to breathe!”
Her hands come around my throat, prying at the leather as I fail to intervene, and when that doesn’t work, she resorts to the only other thing she knows.
She kisses me.
It’s rough at first, frantic and needy, hands clawing at my shirt, arms roping me down until I’m crushing her beneath my weight. Her teeth catch on my piercings as she bites down on my lip, and I can’t help the sound I make when her tongue snakes out to soothe the sting.
I growl, deep in my chest, and she answers with a soft moan that I promptly chase down her throat. I draw it out with my tongue and nurture it with my hands.
Her chest arches into my palm as she mews for more, and air eventually finds its way into my lungs as she pulls away, panting. But I’m not ready to let go yet.
I’ve dreamt of this moment every night for four years straight, and now that it’s here, I must memorize the taste so I can call on this memory every night after.
I roll, carrying her with me so I can draw her deeper. With her body pressed on top of mine, and her ass in my hands as she moans into my mouth, she melts between my fingers, hot and wet, and the smell of our scent threads tangling around us leaves me crippled with need.
But she stills before I can sate her hunger.
She pushes into a seated position, straddling my hips as she plants her hands on my chest. There’s a familiar, faraway look in her eyes as she stares down at me.
“Iris?”
I call her name, but there’s no recognition on her face.
“Are you okay?” I ask, pressing my hand to her chest.
Her heart is still hammering, but it only grows faster as the silence stretches on.
“Iris, baby. Look at me.”
She blinks, eyes searching my face, and I sit up until she is cradled in my lap.
“You’re alright,” I say. “It’s just us. It’s just Elliot. You’re fine, baby. We’re fine.”
The last words slip out on their own, and it takes me a moment to realize they are true.
