Iris giggles, and the sound is muffled as she shifts around in the sheets.
“Only you would suggest an enchanted replica dildo of yourself as an anchor,” she says, still laughing. “Why do you have this?”
Ugh. More questions.
“I like DP, and I don’t like to share. Will it work?”
“Hmm.” Her voice hums in my ear as the tingle turns to a prickling pain.
Fuck, that’s good.
“It’ll work,” she says, the sensation already burning through my chest.
It feels a little different than usual. Without her in my hands, there’s no heady mixture of pleasure to distract from the pain, but that’s an easy fix.
Leaning up against the bureau, I wedge the phone between my ear and my shoulder and fist my dick in my hand. But the silence coming from the other end of the line makes me pause.
“You alright, Ashbourne?”
“I’m fine. I just—shit.” She hisses and sucks in a breath. “I forget how big you are.”
Gods, I groan, what I wouldn’t give to see her right now.
I’ve never had Iris. Not entirely.
She made it clear early on that it was not an option. I’ve respected that boundary over the years, but I’ve imagined it a million times. Pictured every position I’d take her in. Every hole I’d fill.
Just from the way she endures my fingers, I know she’d take me well.
She likes a challenge.
She’ll take every inch, without complaint.
“Take it slow, baby. Don’t hurt yourself.”
In confirmation of my theory, she moans, loud.
“Oh fates, Elliot…”
“You got it, baby. Just breathe.”
She’s quiet for a moment as her body stretches to accommodate the size, but I know she’s managed to settle when she lets out a shuddering breath.
“You okay?”
My only answer is a muffled moan.
“How does it feel, Iris?”
“Tight,” she whispers.
Fuck, I should be with her, not some poor replica of me.
“Do you like it?” I ask, stroking myself slowly, then a little faster as she mews in pain.
“Yes…”
She starts to pull from me, and I hiss as the burning sting spreads from my head to my toes. But I know it’s not enough.
