Page 72 of Dark Surrender

I dunno what this is with Iris.

It could be nothing.

But… Damn… It doesn’t feel like nothing.

“Dark, what are you doing here?” Iris’s delicious morning voice croaks from her front step, where she stands barefoot, in the cutest fucking pajamas with opossums printed on them.

She rubs the sleep from her eyes and yawns. Stretching her arms up, a small strip of her stomach shows, and her heavy tits lift with the movement.

I get hard.

Again.

Fuck. She’s gorgeous.

The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.

Those mismatched eyes blink at me like an adorable owl. Her head cocks to the side, and out pops a grin.

My heart punches my sternum.

“Hi.” I wave like a moron.

She chuckles. It’s tinkly and cute, and my dick gets all the harder.

When I don’t say anything else, because I don’t have an excuse for why I’m here, or why I have a bag of bagels and cream cheese in the saddlebag of my bike. Or donuts. Or five kinds of juice. Yes, five. Along with a thermos of coffee. Plus, a variety of granola bars and two breakfast sandwiches, one with bacon, the other with sausage. Yeah. When I don’t have an explanation for all that, I just stand in her yard as she turns around, and her sexy ass jiggles. For half a beat, I’m ass-matized before she disappears inside, but leaves the door open for me. That’s what it’s for, right?

For me to come in.

Shit.

Rushing to my bike, I dig the food and drinks out of my saddlebags and rush to her front door, where I stop at the threshold. “Iris?”

“I’m in the kitchen.”

A wave of relief washes over me as I follow her voice to find her rinsing a glass in the sink.

I set the bags on the counter, dig everything out, and turn her kitchen into a half-assed breakfast buffet, all the while Iris watches me. I sense her attention searing into the side of my face as I uncap the coffee and dump the handful of creamer cups and packets of sugar beside the thermos.

Once I’m through, I step back.

“You brought breakfast?”

“Yeah.” I shrug like it’s no big deal. “I figured you’d need to eat.”

“No chopsticks?” She winks as she picks up the sausage, egg, and cheese breakfast sandwich, unwraps it, and takes a bite.

I almost come.

Yeah. I’ve got big fucking issues.

Needing to get whatever the hell is going on with me under control, I force a smile, hitch my thumb toward the bathroom, and see myself there, to have a strong talkin’ to with my dick.

As soon as I shut the door and lock it, I rip my belt open, undo my pants, and pull my wet-tipped cock from its confines of my boxers. Then I slap his head. Hard.

“Stop it,” I whisper-hiss, and the bastard replies with a gush of precum that drips down the tip that I have to catch before it falls on the floor, and Iris slips on it.

Using a wad of toilet paper, I clean up what I can, but it does nothing to make him go down. If anything, being freed from his prison has him ready to party, and my balls ache with the need to release.