When the final aftershocks fade, I stand to my full height and tear at the fastenings of my trousers. My cock springs free, massive and rigid. I’ve been as hard as a rock since I saw her walk into the club. If I don’t bury my dick inside her within the next minute, I’m liable to lose control entirely.
My dick throbs erratically, leaking scorching drops of precum that make the air between us visibly shimmer. Iris blinks, her dazed eyes raking over my torso, down to my groin. Her breath catches, but she doesn’t back down. “You realize that thing is a logistical nightmare. There’s no way it’ll fit.”
A rough laugh tears out of my throat. Even now, undone and shivering on a couch, she’s still the defiant woman who has me under her spell. “I assure you, Iris,” I murmur, “the logistics are entirely my problem. And it’ll fit, because you were made for me.”
I climb next to her on the couch and spread her legs wider, pushing them as high as they go. Iris drops her head hard against the leather, staring up at the ceiling like a woman in a dream.
I guide the blunt head of my cock to her slick entrance and push. Her dripping heat yields to me so easily, her body stretching to accommodate me. Iris cries out and arches back against me, trying to impale herself on my shaft.
But for all my certainty, I don’t want to risk harming her. I brace my hands firmly against her hips, holding her in place. “Easy, Iris. I’ll give you what you need.”
“Promises, promises,” she hisses under her breath. “You—”
I thrust forward, burying my entire length deep inside her in one devastating glide. Iris’s words die in her throat. Instinctively, her pussy tightens around my dick, and the almost brutal sensation threatens to snap my composure right then and there. I let out a feral snarl and increase the pace.
By now, the friction has become a living, breathing thing. My thrusts grow shorter, harder, more desperate. Iris is a storm of thrashing limbs, her pale legs locking around my waist to pull me deeper.
I slam into her with almost bruising force, my magic a raging storm beneath my skin. Something terrifying is building between us, and I pursue it, a slave to the sensation.
I reach down between her legs and find the point of our union. There’s something so sinful about feeling the way her pussy stretches around my dick like this. It’s not dirty—it never could be—but it feels like a secret. Like something only she and I could ever share.
She feels it too, because how could she not? As I rub my thumb over her clit, her body tightens around my shaft. “Rakan!” she screams, her spine going rigid.
A series of crushing waves ripples over me as she finds her peak, impaled on my dick. Lost in her pleasure, she drags me along with her. I spill myself deep inside her tight core, shaking as I pump every drop of my release into her. The sheer force of the orgasm hollows me out. Slowly, the raging amber fire beneath my skin begins to bleed down into a low thrum.
I don’t remember feeling exhausted any time this century, but the sensation strikes me now. I collapse on top of her but catch my weight at the last minute. “Am I crushing you?” I ask.
For a long minute, she doesn’t answer. The only sound echoing in the room is our ragged panting. I stay buried inside her, resting my weight against the settee.
“You’re not crushing me,” she says at last. “But I’m pretty sure that whatever we did just now could have crushed this building.”
“That’s fine,” I mumble against her throat. “I’ll buy it. Or maybe rebuild it.”
“If you actually do that,” Iris whispers, her chest heaving against mine, “I’m making you change these decorations. They’re utterly garish.”
I can’t argue with that. In fact, at that moment, I don’t think I can argue with anything she says.
I pull out of her slowly, the wet friction drawing a soft gasp from her lips. She’s stunning, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. And to think, I could have spent tonight schmoozing with other obscenely rich monsters or chatting with Sigurd over drinks I can’t even taste anymore.
I needed this more than I knew.
“That was certainly a more productive use of our time than discussing books across a counter,” I say, shooting her a quick smile. “I must remember to thank Camille for meddling. It made for a highly enjoyable diversion.”
Iris doesn’t smile back. Instead, her entire body tenses, going completely rigid against me. The dazed look in her eyes vanishes instantly, replaced by a cold sharpness. She pushes me away and stumbles off the couch, out of my reach. “Iris?” I ask. “What’s wrong?”
Iris reaches for her dress and quickly pulls it on. She lets out a bitter bark of laughter. “Nothing’s wrong. In fact, everything is perfectly fine. It all makes sense now. That’s what you really think of me, Mr. al-Rashid. That I’m a diversion.”
I stare at her in shock. Until now, I didn’t realize how one thoughtless word could hurt a person. Maybe it’s because I haven’t said many of them. My words are always effortlessly smooth and suave. Except with Iris, apparently, where I’ve managed to put my foot in my mouth.
Surely, there must be a way to fix this, to explain. “Iris, I—”
“Don’t even bother.” She cuts me off. “You know, I wish I had a dark roast right now. Or maybe one of your crumpled bills. That’s the only thing you’re fucking worth.”
She grabs the door handle. She doesn’t hesitate, nor does she look back. The wood groans as she pushes through it, and she’s instantly swallowed by the deafening bass of the club.
I stand alone in the VIP lounge, still tasting her sweet juices on my lips and smelling her sweat on my skin. My body hums with the aftermath of the most carnal high of my existence.
And I know I’ve made the biggest mistake of my life.
