Iris (Mike Bravo Ops 1) - Page 49

It’s just Iris and me, our bodies, and doing what comes naturally.

Iris grips my hips and thrusts upward, his hard cock rubbing against mine. It sends ripples of pleasure through me. Goose bumps break out over my skin, and I shudder on top of him.

“I want you so much,” Iris whispers.

I revel in his words and try not to read into them. He means in this moment. He means as a release. We might have this physical pull, and it might be overwhelming enough for Iris to cross lines he never has before, but that doesn’t mean he’s having thoughts of grandeur and romance. It doesn’t mean he wants me for anything past getting off.

And I have to remind myself of that fact as I lean down and kiss him.

The way he drinks me in, the way his hands tighten on my hips, I’m all but gone for this guy. Physically, I mean. Because I can’t afford to be anything more than that.

I want to take off my shirt, to be skin on skin, but that’s still too vulnerable for me. So instead, I reach between us and undo the string on Iris’s board shorts. His hands leave me long enough for him to dip into his waistband and slowly shimmy his shorts down his thighs.

Even though we’re in a Range Rover—a luxury one at that—it’s awkward and fumbly as we try to get our pants off. Especially when we refuse to stop kissing.

I manage to get my board shorts under my ass with my cock peeking out of the top. I get them down enough that when I put my weight on Iris, our dicks, slippery with precum, rub against each other.

Iris grabs a handful of my ass and thrusts up again.

Even though I’m the one on top, he’s the one in control.

I love that he’s tender with me but commanding. I love that there’s no hesitation on his part even when there should be.

He starts a controlled pace, bringing his body up as he pushes mine down, grinding together until he can’t hold back anymore and his thrusts become more erratic. I have to hold on to his headrest for leverage so I can keep up.

Iris’s fingers slip into the crease of my ass and tap my hole.

I moan my encouragement, but he pulls back, breaking our lips apart.

“I wish I could fuck you. I want to watch you ride me. I want to turn you inside out.”

The involuntary noise that leaves me is something between pleasure and tortured pain. “I want that.”

“No supplies. Plus, I want to have a go at you from all angles. Can’t do that in a car.”

“Well, I mean, you could, but I predict bruises in unpleasant places.”

“Fuck, Brock,” Iris hisses.

My name, my real name … when it falls from his lips, it’s like my chest expands with affection.

“I’m not sure I’ll ever get enough of you,” he says.

I need to stop him from saying shit he doesn’t mean. He can’t mean them. “I want you inside me,” I murmur.

Iris brings his fingers up to my mouth. “Get them wet for me.”

I suck on his fingers greedily, and Iris stops everything he’s doing. I whimper in protest, but when I glance down at him, his gaze is locked on my mouth. He plunges his fingers inside, and slurping sounds echo around the car.

When they’re nice and wet, Iris removes them, placing them right where I want them. First one finger, and then two. He starts slow, teasing my hole, all the while looking up with those dark, long lashes blinking at me.

His deep brown eyes are hooded with lust; his lips are shiny and moist from where I’ve kissed him. He’s the most goddamn beautiful man I’ve ever seen. Pretty but rough around the edges.

I rotate my hips, taking him a little deeper and rubbing my cock against his.

Then something snaps, and there is no more going slow. His free hand weaves into my hair and pulls me toward him.

Our lips collide once again, his intoxicating mouth doing ungodly things to mine. His tongue plunges inside me in time with the fingers in my ass.

The stretching sensation gives way to the tingles shooting throughout my body when Iris is deep enough to brush over my prostate.

I have to break from his lips to let out a shuddery gasp. My hips take over for me, rocking into him so my cock can enjoy the friction between us while his fingers peg that spot inside me that drives me wild.

“That’s it,” Iris says. “Let go. I want to see your face when you come all over me. I want you to paint my skin. Mark me.”

He knows exactly what to say to get me to the edge. He knows exactly what to do and what buttons to push, and if I’m not careful, Iris could be my undoing.

Tags: Eden Finley Mike Bravo Ops Romance
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