Saying his name got his attention as his lips crash into mine, kissing me passionately. His tongue fights with mine as we fought with our words so many times before. It is intense and intimate, and I don’t want him to stop. For however long we have, I want to kiss his wine stained lips and brush his tongue with my own.
My icy eyes dance up at his fiery dark emeralds as he mumbles, “Fuck it.”
The restraints come off quick—amazingly quick—and suddenly, I am in his arms, wrapping my legs around his waist. And never, ever wanting this to end.
“I love you so fucking much, please just be with me,” I beg between kisses, hoping he listens.
“I have to go to the party tomorrow night,” he says, gazing over my face and asking the most beautiful question I have ever heard. “I would like you to be my date, if you will go with me…”
“Are you serious?” I slump into his arms, completely trusting his strength. “Yes, I will be your date. When is the last time you had a date?”
“An actual date of my own choosing?” He laughs, showing off his seductive grin. His eyebrows flinch up and down as he thinks. “It’s been awhile, probably high school.”
“You didn’t date…”
“No, Kace and I didn’t date. I hear you went to the room,” he comments ever so casually with an assessing stare. I can see he is thinking about punishing me. “Did you go to my temple, Iris?”
“Yes, Sir,” I defend, “But I just want to know more…”
His jaw is popping, offering a spectacularly sexy angle. “Ok well, here is what we are going to do now. I am going to take you up there, and we are going to deal with the elephant between us…”
“You mean Kaci…”
“Yes, I mean my wife…you saw me at my worst this morning on top of her grave. Let me show you our best, and then I am going to fucking punish your ass for being such a snoop.”
“Deal,” I concur quick without any hint of argument. With a hoist under my arms, he moves my body to his shoulder, tosses his shirt over me, and carries me like a sack of potatoes to his dirty truck parked haphazard outside.
This cannot get any better.
SAL
“She is beautiful,” Iris whispers, touching my hand in the bed that should have been another woman’s.
“Thank you,” I mutter, gazing at the scrapbook.
Her fingers lace into my own. “For?”
“Humoring me,” I quip with a slight smirk, “Waiting on me.”
“We both lost our spouses,” she consoles.
I say nothing, but I acknowledge not communicating doesn’t lead to forward progression. “Yours was work.”
“Doesn’t mean I didn’t care about him,” she alleges, offering some insight. We creep to let go. “It may have been an assignment, but it still bit like a mother when he died.”
The switch flips in my brain signaling work to turn on. “What do you think happened?”
“To Chance?” she asks with trepidation.
Wrapping my arm around her, I try and assuage her fears. “Ya…”
“I don’t know,” she says as a few stray tears cascade over her cheeks. “There are moments I want to believe he is just out there hiding somewhere. But I know how much he loved Sands, and I don’t think he would have been able to stay away this long. I mean when you love someone, you want to be with them all the time.”
Breathing her in, I kiss her hair. “You mean like I do you?”
“That feeling is mutual,” she confesses, playing with my fingers and bands on my wrist.
“You know I won’t let them hurt you,” I reiterate. “I am an assassin, Iris. You may not have killed anyone, but I have. And if they come for you, I will have no hesitations in taking anyone out. They can explain after their dead.”
She giggles once, charmed by my gestures. Perhaps she doesn’t understand how truthful I am being. “I know. I wish I knew who they were. Not that I could do anything about it.”
“It’s not really you, babe,” I say, moving her into the crook of my arm. “Its whatever Chance left you with.”
“You mean like a chip?”
“Doubt it.” Staring at the ceiling, I elaborate, “We could run scans on you and find that. It’s something programmed in your pretty little noggin.”
“You mean like a trigger?”
“Exactly,” I confirm.
“And what does it say?”
“Don’t have the faintest idea, but whatever it is…a lot of fucking people want it.”
Her questioning continues and while it should make me nervous, I have no fears with her. She isn’t going to kill me. And if she does, it won’t matter because without her in my life I really don’t know that I want to be around anyway. “You have files?”
“I do,” I say, petting her silky hair and velvet skin. “They are at my loft in Houston.”
“Can I see them?”
“Ugh…” I hesitate, unsure of what to say. I can go for honest, but it sorta of sounds like I am a sociopath. “I would, but you need to know something, angel. I converted the loft…and it’s not exactly a normal place of residence anymore.”
“What do you mean?” she says, absentmindedly spinning my wrist bands. “Like you have no furniture?”
The confession comes hard and fast. Kind of like I want to do in between her legs. “No, like it’s devoted entirely to my kink.”
Her eyes open wide. “You’re serious?”
“Completely,” I say, rolling over on top, easing down low, and undoing a few of the buttons on my shirt. She looks incredibly sexy in a white dress shirt. So did Kace. I know I am in real fucking trouble.
“Maybe you should prepare me…” she eludes.
“Maybe I should,” I agree, running my fingers along the inside arch of her bosom. On my belly between her thighs, she strokes my hair as I stare and give myself a massive problem. “I do not think I can ever be inside of you enough.”
“That’s funny because I don’t think I could ever have you inside of me enough,” she says, smirking. “This is pretty fucking crazy, you know that, right?”
“I know I am crazy. I know you are beautiful. And I know this love is pure madness.”
Iris giggles and marvels, “Pure kinky madness!”
“I haven’t forgotten I promised you a punishment, young lady.”
Lifting a brow at me, she says, “You know I am older than you, right?”
“Not in this sense, baby girl.”
IRIS
The fact remains I am under contract with Jack for six months. I do not know how long I will see Sal, so when he asks what I want I prompt my fantasy to come to life. “I want to be whipped.”
His breath smells of mint and cigarettes, classic Sal—and so very comforting. He cocks an eyebrow up. “Stock or bull?”
“Bullwhip. Stockwhip. Anal.” I suggest as if ordering off a menu, pushing buttons I know he cannot resist. I want to give my ass to Sal—in more ways than one.
With an awed expression, he queries straight-faced, “Have you had any of those?”
“No, Sir. And I really want you to be the first,” I declare, putting a bargain on the table. “And I may not be able to offer you this six months from now.”
Rising up, he paces at the end of the bed, deep in thought. “You have a good point. Where would you like the whipping?”
“Outside like you do…”
Tucking his finger under his chin, he snarls and nibbles his lip. At least I know he takes my offer seriously.
“Please, Lucas, take me.”
“Alright,” he agrees. Opening the cabinet drawers, he slowly looks through each of them until he comes to the bottom one on the right side. He brings two plastic covered bags to the bed, sets them down, and shuts the scrapbook of wedding photos, setting it carefully on the nightstand.
He pulls out two velvet bags in midnight blue and dark royal red. Out of the midnight blue, he reveals a black bullwhip, placing it in my trembling hands.
&
nbsp; Glancing up, I find him smirking. “How do you know I know what I am doing?”
“Because you are you,” I state matter-of-fact, more like his best friend than the sub he is about to whip. “Bullwhip, single-plait, kangaroo hide. Hmm. I’d guess about ten feet. Hard to be precise, but quick.”
“Very good, girl.” Taking it from my fingers, he cracks it against the floor.
I blush and grin, unable to refrain from my sheer excitement.
“You’ve studied. I am impressed.” He opens the other bag, removing a coiled whip. Gazing over at my very inquisitive study, he holds it up, waiting for my assessment and thinking he may stump me.
“Multi-tailed, signal whip. Probably kangaroo again.” I sigh, “It’s gonna sting like a fucker.”
Running his hand through his raven curls, he laughs, “You asked to be whipped. I aim to please.”
“I hope you aim,” I retort.
“Baby, this is me. I do not miss.”
Setting the new toys down on the bed, Sal walks over to one of the multitude of glass cabinets, and takes a bottle out. Breaking its seal, he opens it and removes the foil, replacing the cap. From the bathroom, he produces three pristine white towels, a white bath robe, and grabs what looks like a soft ice chest.
The foil lined ice chest will serve as a warmer as he pops the seals on heat packs and drops the towels and lube inside. “If we were in the dungeon, I could use the warming drawer, so you will just have to suffer with hot packs.”
With a deviant smirk, he moves to the nightstand and produces two condoms.
“No,” I say.
He tilts his head towards me, a slight concern on his face, thinking I am backing out.
“No,” I repeat, touching his rough hand, holding the square packets. I bite my lip and blink, anxiety ridden that he will disagree.
“No?” he questions, “Are you sure?”
“If you are okay, then I am awesome. Truth is I want to feel you come inside of me.”
“Oooh…” His lips pucker up to a kiss. As I notice the slight erection tucked under the denim. “Alrighty. Well, then…” He licks his lips and lifts his brows in unison as he breathes, “Okay, angel. If you change your mind, let me know.”
“I won’t,” I assure confidently. “Though I never realized how much prep really went into a scene. This is a lot of work for you.”
“You walk in as a sub, thinking it all just happens. But the Dom has thought and planned it all out very meticulously. But ultimately, it’s all about you, sweetheart. I am serving you what you ask for. Don’t ever forget that. You hold the power; you have the control. The Dom may be knee-deep and hard as a rock doing what he is, but you can pull the whole thing down with a single word. The discipline of the Dom is in the responsibility of taking care of his sub. And I have every intention on being the best you ever had tonight.” His demeanor casual, his words ring honest and true. “Are you ready to dance, princess?”
I am charmed by his candor. After all our foreplay of psychological warfare and fuckery, I expect his mind games, but he is direct, firm, and forthright. The game shifts and changes as he lets me into his intimate recesses. And I understand not only does he possess a responsibility to me, but I do to him as well. I am promising to stay present and not get lost—a pretty tall order for a session of this magnitude. I have every intention of doing it because I love this man.
In watching his assembly of our night, I am high upon Sal Raniero’s pedestal, and fuck if the view isn’t the most remarkable I have ever seen. No other Dom will ever compare. He is the one I will crave. His words are the ones that will haunt me for the rest of my life. I want this night to go on forever.
“Okay, here we go,” he says, putting the strap of the cooler on his shoulder. “Remember you can safe out. And Iris?”
“Hmm?” I nod with a smile.
He takes my pinky finger in his. “I promise you, I will never just walk out on you if you do call your safe.”
“Sal…” I pause, looking into his moss colored eyes. I want to tell him how much this means, but somehow the words can’t…as the fear of rejection, hurt, and loss lingers thick on my tongue. “I’m ready. Do it.”
SAL
The darkness looms as the four-wheeler courses over the terrain. She latches onto my back as I feel her open the robe and press her nakedness to mine. Her hands are low, near my cock, and I cannot help but be aroused by this girl, this woman, this submissive—my Iris.
Pulling up outside the dungeon, I leave her briefly to go hit the lights. By the time I return, she sits on a hay bale, her skin shimmering under the massive beacons.
Spreading her legs, she offers up a glorious view of her sex and questions, “Where did Jack and Serene go?”
“They aren’t here,” I inform, “My best guess is to his house in Austin.”
“So…we have the whole place to ourselves?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” I assure.
Her eyes blink with a curiosity as she does the cutest thing ever, quivering her nose. It is darling, and I weasel between her legs to kiss her lips. I love how quickly she responds, tucking her legs around my body. I smirk remembering how long we practiced acts of trust. Between kisses, she whispers, “You said – yes, ma’am.”
“I did because it is a sign of respect. Despite what I am about to do to your ass, I am a polite young man,” I comment, expecting a wisecrack from her pouty little mouth, but she doesn’t give that to me.
“…And you are a religious man too, Raniero.”
“That I am.”
“Will you pray before sinning all over my ass?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I assure with a wink. “Are you ready? Because if you aren’t, I am about to fuck the hell out of you.”
She bats her lashes, trying to hide from beneath her curtain of hair. I cannot stand it, so I eliminate her escape by pulling a hair tie off my arm and knotting her gorgeous locks up into a loose bun.
“Why do you have a hair tie?”
“I like girls,” I snarl. “I like you. And I stole it from your things this morning.”
Shooting a surprised stare my way, she asks, “What else have you stolen?”
“Your perfume. Your panties. Your heart.”
“You are serious?” Her fingers grip my biceps as she is flabbergasted, pivoting every which way to try and get out from beneath me, but I have her pinned. She is going nowhere. “You stole my stuff?”
“Only because I am madly, fucking crazy in love with you.”
Her expression softens as she whispers ever so demurely, “Really?”
“Ya, I am,” I proudly assert, feeling amazed in finally professing how I feel about her. In fact, so much so, I bellow, “I love you, Iris Kettles!”
My roar delights and entices as her fingers dance and legs jiggle about. Lifting her up onto her feet and draping the robe over the hay, I graze my hand over the curve of her breast. Distracted by her voluptuousness, my mouth finds its way to her nipple.
Sucking and nibbling the peak into my mouth, I take the other one in my fingers and bring it up, before devouring its succulence. I love this woman’s tits. It’s crass and tacky, but I do. These hips she hates so much, I adore. I could spend all night fussing with her nipples.
My dick throbs in my already too tight jeans. Although I am about to put her in perfect position for a whipping, I divert and follow my primal instinct. Her hand ruffles my hair, encouraging my greedy, hungry mouth. Spreading her robe out, I pick her up and plop her onto the bale. “Fuck this.”
She parts her thighs readily as I crawl up. The night air is chilly, and I worry she will get sick. “Are you cold?”
“No, Sir.”
“You tell me if that changes.”
“I will,” she says, gazing at me. “Can you…”
“What?”
“Can you go back to doing what you were before?”
“I never planned on anything else,” I inform as I lay between her legs—which she quickly wra
ps around my body. I smile at her and flick my tongue on her nipple. She gasps and grabs my hair as I suck the mild morsel into my mouth. I feel her hips urging me on and soon, her hands are all over me. Running over my guns and forearms, she caresses down to my waist and makes short work of my jeans.
Her hand wraps around my cock stroking slow. “Jesus, don’t stop, Iris.”
“I won’t if you won’t.”
“Deal. Done.” Without any warning, I blurt out, “Be my girlfriend…”
Hello! Where the fuck did that come from?
“You mean like real, steady girlfriend—monogamous?”
I know what I am asking, and it is absurd to think she would believe I can be loyal. I am a manwhore, but with the offer on the table, I know I have to try with this girl because a love like hers may not come around again. My luck will run out eventually.
“I will promise to try if you will.”
And that is enough for me. It isn’t a yes; it isn’t a no. It is a promise to work the relationship as I guide my cock to her entrance and nudge. “I’ll take it.”
She grips my hips and pummels herself onto the length of me, engulfing my shaft into her body. We are making love—she and I—on a hay bale in the middle of January. The thrusts are slow and precise, gentle and full of love. I am not sure I have ever had such passionate vanilla sex.
She swirls around my dick, deliciously good as I intensify my pulses, going deeper and faster each time. It is spiritual. It is cosmic. Her angel and my devil collide and unite, merging us into one. Rolling our bodies together, I nuzzle her neck and kiss her nips. On top of her, I pant in a weakened, delirious state, “Iris, I need more of you.”
Tucking my hand under her body, I twirl us over and she straddles above me. She rides me hard, fucking me good and long. Her puss soaks around my dick, turning my erection to fucking stone. Rock hard and deep inside of her, I let her believe she leads before grabbing her hips and jutting up into her fast.
“This love is real,” she whispers, tightening her flower around my shaft and milking me for all she is worth. It is sweet and pure and good, and everything in that moment makes me realize how much I love this spellbinding creature. Her spirit enraptures me, offering forgiveness and temptation. And I am left with no other option but to come in her flood.
Salt Kissed Love (a Tomb of Ashen Tears Book 1) Page 12
