My gut clenched. That wasn’t even accurate, but now I had to prove otherwise.
Goddammit.
And there was another, more persistent devil of a doubt that had me caving fast. I didn’t want to be boring to her, to be too tame for the wild part of her, and attending a party at Turner’s house was bound to be anything but that.
I bent down and kissed her briefly, rubbing her shoulders. “That’s not true at all. I don’t want to go because I want to be alone with you, but if it’s that important, we’ll swing by. I’m not staying more than two hours, though, I’m warning you right now.”
She hugged me. “Do you mind stopping at a store on the way? I don’t have to swim, but you know I love the water.”
There wasn’t a store on the way, but I wasn’t telling her that. Knowing her, I was half-afraid that if she didn’t have a suit, she’d somehow end up swimming naked.
“I don’t mind at all. Just tell me where you go to buy suits. I haven’t shopped at an actual store in years. I do everything online.”
I wound up GPSing some women’s swimsuit shop that was about thirty minutes out of the way on a ten-minute drive.
I didn’t complain. It was more time having her to myself before the chaos began, because any party where I showed up with Iris for the first time would surely be that.
She was a quick shopper, didn’t even try the bikini on, just grabbed a neon yellow number that was just the most minuscule series of strings and triangles.
“Oh, I love this color!” the sales clerk said as she checked her out. “It’s called Sun Worshipper. Isn’t that the perfect name for it?”
Iris agreed, and then proceeded to nearly make a scene when I tried to pay, instead using her own cash.
I backed off quickly, easily embarrassed by scenes, though it was all infuriating, so infuriating that I stormed out of the store as she finished up.
I’d never so much as taken her out to dinner. It made my allegation that she was interested in my money all the more ridiculous, which I thought was her point.
She came out a few minutes later, wearing the suit.
I could barely look at her without embarrassing myself, that’s how sexy it was.
In fact, I made a point of not looking at her body after she had it on.
But I got enough of a look to have it burned into my memory.
Permanently.
It wasn’t that it was especially small. It was tiny, but I’d seen her wear tiny bikinis before. The triangles that covered her were about the normal size for a string bikini.
It was the strings that turned the thing into pure wickedness. They laced together over her cleavage up to the base of her neck, teasing along the skin, pulled taut over her pushed together cleavage, making each inch uncovered all the more sinful. The same effect of intertwined laces played over her hips, and right down to the V of material right over her sex.
And forget about the back.
It was too much, laces barely covering the top of her ass, looking like they might come apart at any second.
“You don’t wear a cover-up or anything?” I asked her, voice low and rough.
“Nope. Do you like the suit?”
I nodded, not looking at her. If I started talking about how she looked, even just to compliment her, I knew I’d be hard for an hour, so I didn’t say another word about it, willing my hard-on to go away by the time we got to the party.
On the way back to the car, I commented on the huge stack of cash I’d seen in her purse.
Of course, I knew what it was from, remembering well her gambling problem, but it seemed prudent to point it out. Perhaps I’d get a square answer from her, for once.
And I did. Disconcertingly so.
She shot me that level stare over the top of the car for a long moment before getting in.
“You know where that money’s from,” said Iris, finally. “You think I didn’t notice you following me all those nights?”
She said this just as I was starting the car. It stopped me in my tracks. I looked at her, shocked speechless for the longest time.
She’d known all along when I’d been following her, and hadn’t commented, hadn’t minded?
“You never said anything,” I pointed out.
She sighed. “Neither did you. I knew you were imagining I was up to worse things. I thought it would make you feel better to see that I wasn’t up to anything too troublesome.”
“Don’t kid yourself, Iris. A gambling problem is pretty damned troublesome.”
She grinned. “Gambling is only a problem if you lose. If you recall, I never lose.”
I couldn’t argue with that. I never had seen her lose.
I had my own theories about it, but I felt silly even thinking it, let alone asking.
“Were you ever a cigarette girl?” I asked, since she was actually handing out answers, for once.
“Never.”
“Where have you been for the last two months?”
I was sorry I asked, because the question effectively quelled that rare flow of information.
“Tammy is going to be there,” I told her when we were nearly at Turner’s house only just then remembering to warn her.
“You’re still going to parties with your ex-wife? You two getting along better now?”
I flushed. “Not at all. And I’m not going with her. I’m going, and I got wind that she’s crashing the thing. I just thought I should warn you.”
“So she’s still after you,” she said, her tone perfectly blank.
I had no idea what to say to that or even if it could be true.
It was five p.m. when we finally pulled up to Turner’s estate. The place was packed, music blasting in back that could be heard as you pulled onto the drive.
It was a madhouse, which I’d expected, but I found that it agitated me more now that I was bringing Iris into said madhouse.
Turner met us at the front door, shirtless and holding a cocktail. He was ripped, his tan chest gleaming. If it had just been us guys, I’d have immediately started ragging on him about oiling himself up. As it was, I didn’t want to draw any attention to his body, if there was any shot Iris hadn’t noticed on her own.
He grinned, clapping me on the back, then froze and blinked a few times as he caught sight of Iris.
“You must be Iris,” he guessed with a smile.
She beamed at him. She liked that I’d obviously been talking about her to him, though I hoped she never knew that I’d shared way too many specifics about our sex life.
I’d never been one to give out details like that, never before at least, but I’d started hanging out with Turner after she’d left, when I’d needed to vent, and so way too much information had been shared. My only excuse was that I needed someone to talk to, because I honestly thought I’d never see her again.
Still, I hoped she never found out just how explicitly familiar Turner was with the things she and I had done together.
“Dair has told me only the most wonderful things about you,” Turner told her engagingly, and without even asking, walked up and gave her a big, tight embrace—the perverted motherfucker.
“Holy shit,” he mouthed over her shoulder at me, the hug lingering a few beats more than I liked.
I gave him a less than friendly look, and he let her go, grinning unabashedly.
“I’m surprised you weren’t out back,” I told him, pulling Iris closer to me, throwing my arm over her shoulder. “Why you hanging out inside during your own party?”
He made a face. “Just random chance I was in here. Had a ten-minute conference call that couldn’t be avoided. You know how it is. Anyway, it’s done now, and I saved you a spot in the shade. This way.” He started moving through the house, and we followed, Iris still plastered to my side, tight enough that I could feel one ripe tit rubbing into my ribcage.
Fuck. I moved away from her in an effort not to embarrass myself.
Turner took us to the best seat in the house, a covered
cabana with perfect views and access to the pool.
I took my shirt off, though I was in the shade, and I didn’t need to work on my tan. My natural coloring, combined with the fact that I swam outside nearly every day, took care of that.
A waiter came and got our drink orders almost instantly.
I ordered a Mai Tai, but Iris just asked for water.
Who did that?
A wild party girl who drank water instead of cocktails.
As always, she was a contradiction.
CHAPTER EIGHT
I found myself talking with Turner while Iris swam and mingled with the other people in the pool. She’d seemed restless as soon as we sat, so we’d cut her loose to play.
It wasn’t lost on me that this was what you did with children at parties, not lovers.
“Did you say she’s twenty-four?” Turner asked, watching her laugh at something some guy that had sidled up to her in the water was telling her.
I was watching, too, fists clenched, so it took me a minute to hear his question. “Yeah. Twenty-four.”
“I hate to say this to you, man, especially considering how well I know you and your straight-laced tendencies, but that chick is not twenty-four.”
That threw me. “I made her show me her ID; first time I took her home.”
He had a good long laugh at that one. “Of course you did.”
“I studied it. It didn’t look fake.”
He laughed some more, really enjoying himself. “Of course you fucking did. Well, I hate to say this too, but she showed you a fucking fake ID, because that chick is not twenty-four. It must have been a good one, to fool you.”
“I studied it. It looked legit. Wait, so how old do you think she is?”
“Barely fucking legal, that’s how old. Definitely not twenty-four. Trust me. I’m a pro at this. You don’t get far in this life as loaded as I am, if you don’t learn well how to avoid all of the jailbait thrown your way. You were married to that nutjob for half of your sorry life, so you haven’t had to worry about these things.”
I felt slightly ill.
Was he just talking shit, or could he be right?
“I’ll check it again.”
I saw him shrug out of the corner of my eye. “I wouldn’t be too worried about it,” he mused.
“Why’s that?” I asked.
Iris, who we’d both been watching, turned and pulled herself out of the water, soaking wet and facing us.
“Holy shit, she is smoking,” he said reverently. “You weren’t exaggerating. Not one fucking bit.”
I saw Turner’s head turning my way and craned my neck to meet his laughing eyes.
He bit his knuckles, and I almost smiled, and also almost punched him in the teeth.
“My educated guess would be she’s somewhere between eighteen and twenty,” he finally answered. “You can fuck her, just don’t buy her any alcohol.”
He laughed hard about that.
I wasn’t finding the subject funny myself.
Not even a little. Just another thing to worry about where she was concerned.
I moved on to yet another touchy subject, wanting to get his take, though I knew I wasn’t going to like his brand of truth on this, either. “That guy in the Jaguar dropped her off at my house. She didn’t want me to see, but I saw him. He saw me, too. He doesn’t like me much better than I do him.”
I turned to meet his pointed look.
“It’s that generation, I’m telling you.”
“Your generation,” I remarked.
“Well, I’m at least seven years older than your Iris, but yeah, basically. Women get around more. Especially the hot ones. You have to consider how many options a girl like that has. Everything with a penis has pretty much been swinging it in her direction since she was fifteen, I’d bet. Have you ever asked her how many partners she’s had?”
I grimaced. “No. I don’t want to know. Thinking about it makes me feel violent.”
“Well, that’s hardly productive, especially since you’ve been hitting that bareback. You really need to ask these things.”
“Trust me, I know how stupid I’ve been, but I don’t have the stomach for it.”
“You are a bundle of contra-fucking-dictions my man, but I won’t knock you for it. She is . . . whew, she is enough to make you forget you ever had a brain, let alone how to use it.”
He wasn’t wrong.
“I can’t stand the thought of her with that guy, or fuck, any guy. It keeps me up at night, but she won’t so much as talk about him.”
“Being possessive gets you exactly jack shit. I can’t figure out why you do it.”
I studied him like he was a science experiment. “Are you saying you’ve never felt possessive of a woman?”
“Never. Fuck no. What a useless sentiment. Not even a little bit.”
I shook my head. “You’ve never had real feelings for a woman before, then.”
“I beg to differ. Isn’t ‘me man, me have boner,’ a feeling?”
That surprised a deep laugh out of me, partly at his expense. “Shit, man, you are in for it. You think you’re invincible, but some woman is going to come along and shake up your whole world one of these days. You better just hope she’s not as heartless as you are.”
“I’d rather spend my time hoping she has a rack like Iris, fuck, or just her clone would be nice.”
I socked him hard in the arm.
He bit his lip to keep from laughing.
Iris was talking to a group of young attractive girls in bikinis. They seemed to get on well right off the bat, even started dancing with each other in short order.
Iris started shaking her ass and hips in a familiar way.
I pointed it out to Turner, who I was sure had been watching the whole fucking time, the bastard.
“That thing she’s doing, is that twerking?” I asked him, feeling ancient and a little slow, but wanting to know.
“Holy hell, yes it is.” He whistled long and low. “No wonder she’s an ace in bed. Smooth. My God. I bet she works your cock so good it scrambles your brain.”
I punched him harder in the arm. His tone and words had earned him that and more.
He grimaced, rubbing the spot where I’d hit him twice. They hadn’t been light blows. “My bad.”
We were both momentarily distracted when one of the girls Iris was dancing with reached to finger the strings draping her hips.
I heard Turner suck in a sharp breath.
I socked him in the arm again, because I was pretty sure I could read his mind.
After a vigorous (and distracting) round of dancing, Iris approached the cabana.
“Will you show me to the powder room?” she asked me, breathless from her exertions.
“I can show you,” Turner told her.
I glared at him and stood.
“We’ll be back,” I said, trying my damnedest to sound neutral.
I was pretty sure I knew what she had in mind, and I was hoping it wasn’t just wishful thinking on my part.
Iris looked too delectable not to touch. I wrapped my arm tight around her waist as I led her back to the house.
I squeezed her hip and put my lips to her ear. “Do you really need a powder room?” I asked.
She nodded.
Inwardly, I cursed, but I showed her the way as politely as I could.
The house had about a half a dozen bathrooms, but I led her to the one that adjoined one of Turner’s downstairs gaming rooms, because the space was more private, though the room didn’t have a proper door, just a secluded hallway that branched it off from the main part of the house.
“Wait here for me?” she asked, looking up to give me very good eye contact.
I nodded, taking a seat on the room’s large sofa. I was already hard. I wouldn’t dream of leaving now.
The music out back was pumping loud enough that even this quiet room had some bass vibrating through it.
I leaned against the couch, throwing my a
rms over the back, letting my head fall back. I’d only had one Mai Tai, but I wasn’t much of a drinker, and it was enough to have me feeling happily relaxed.
And an afternoon of watching Iris dance in a bikini was hardly a bad deal, aching cock or no.
I didn’t open my eyes when I heard the restroom door open. I felt, more than heard, as Iris move over to me, every nerve in my body tuned in to her.
My heartbeat picked up, my cock throbbing in time to it, as I felt a light touch against the outside of my thigh.
I reached and felt a slender ankle there. She’d perched her foot up on the couch.
“Come closer,” she said softly.
I opened my eyes and shifted forward until I was sitting on the edge of my seat, face inches from her naval.
She smiled and started rolling her hips.
“Take your shorts off,” said Iris.
She didn’t have to say it twice. They were off in a flash.
She stayed in her tease of a bikini, dancing for me, driving me wild, and by the twinkle in her eye, loving every second of it.
I kept my hands to myself for maybe five minutes.
She threw her leg over my shoulder and started gyrating into my face.
That was my breaking point.
I had her ass cupped in my hands, my mouth nuzzling her bikini aside to eat her pussy between one gyrate and the next, one hand still cupping her ass, the other working to untie her stringy, triangle bottoms.
I tossed them aside when that was accomplished and held her to me with both hands, going at it furiously with my tongue, partaking of her.
She was a feast, and I was a man starved.
She gripped her hands into my hair and tilted her hips up for a better angle, my name punching out of her lungs, over and over, like a prayer.
I relished the sound of that enough to keep going, forget about myself, and bring her over.
She never stopped saying it, even when she came against my tongue, and even after, like a mantra, she kept chanting it.
I ate it up.
Literally.
I shifted her leg until her foot was perched on top of my shoulder, tore my mouth away, and leaned back against the sofa.
This stretched her over me, and gave me a spectacular view of my own little slice of heaven, right between her gorgeously tanned thighs.