Show Time

by Ally Crew

  “I’m Iris, by the way.”

  “Breathtaking.”

  Breathtaking? My heartbeats have turned into a boom-box so I’m sure I’ve misheard.

  Until, he leans in, and adds, “Come with me.” His whispers are a smooth caress against my ears, just like they were the first time.

  “To where?” I ask on a breath.

  “Anywhere. Everywhere, Iris.”

  8

  Thatcher

  It takes me some convincing to whisk her out of the gala. “Don’t worry. The party’s nearly over. I’ll put in an excellent word for you,” I assure her as the valet brings us my car and I open the door of the passenger seat. “I know your boss well enough to know he isn’t going to mind.” Mischief glints in my eye, reflected in the window I close the car’s door.

  As I buckle my belt and rev the gears up, she gasps excitedly—the sounds of her pleasure rousing feelings in me both that are both, benign and not-so-benign.

  We switch on some music and roar onto the quieter roads with the roof down, the cool night air whipping our hair back. Her soft fingers stroke the leather seats while she surveys the dashboard with awed eyes.

  She likes the car. I’ll make it a point to take her on drives every weekend or she can drive me. Whichever way she wants.

  There’s a quiet blush on her face as I ask her questions about herself, but she slowly lifts the protective coating she has on her life, telling me more about her situation.

  “Are you hungry?” I ask, aware she hasn’t eaten. I offer the choice of a few Michelin-starred restaurants.

  “Don't those need reservations?” she drops on a chuckle.

  I temper my grin. “I know people.”

  Eventually, her brows knit into a bemused frown. “We aren’t far from my local grocers. If you wouldn’t mind, I’d love some caramel popcorn instead.” She bites her bashful lips in a way that makes me want to clutch her close and rake my mouth over them in sinful ways.

  “Toffee popcorn?” I laugh teasingly. If that is what my girl wants, that is what she gets. By her employment record, Iris has spent her life giving—now it is her turn to be spoiled with love. The Thatcher brand of love.

  I drive to the grocers and park. However, as I am about to get out it becomes obvious to me that she’s not going to join me.

  I sit back for a moment, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Is something the matter?” My voice softens realizing she’s shaking and not from attraction, it’s something else.

  She laces her restless hands. “The manager here…he’s not a good man and...” she stares at her lap, “In this dress... it’s better I stay here.”

  My gaze slides down from her eyes to her curves and back up to her eyes. The asshole! Another fucking way life jerks her about.

  “Ok…I understand. You wait here…and I’ll get it for you.” My jaw clenches, but I keep my tone reassuring. She doesn’t need to know anything…yet.

  In less than ten minutes, I'm back with three bags of caramel popcorn.

  “He’ll never trouble you again.” I graze her cheek with the back of my knuckles, before restarting the car and driving away. Not that she’ll ever have to make trips to the local grocers again.

  “Thank you.” She breaks out into a smile and doesn’t ask me what happened.

  The dark glimmer in my eyes is apparently enough to tell her the story or she trusts me enough to believe me and that means the world to me.

  “This has been the happiest day of my life,” she confesses at the end of our drive, licking the caramel from her fingertips.

  “You deserve happiness. You deserve to be treated like a princess.”

  A silky look comes over her, almost dreamy. It’s from a place of pure joy, surging that same pleasure through me too, and this is the moment I know I want this truly forever.

  Parking the car by the secluded woods behind the grounds of my mansion, I turn to her. Unbuckling our seatbelts, I shift our seats into recliners with the swift push of a button. She watches me in serene silence while I guide my palms around her cheeks and guide her face up to mine.

  “I promise to make every day of your life the happiest.”

  “Who are you?’ Her glimpse locks with mine, reading my thoughts, while her lashes flutter nervously.

  “I’m the man you need and you’re the woman I desire, Iris.”

  Dew mists her pupils. “I would like that.”

  Her words are a spark, flaming my feelings ablaze. Lust-filled heat flashes over me, making my heart pound, and my cock swell. My body burns to make love, and by her flushed cheeks, she’s right there with me.

  9

  Iris

  The length of his fingers wrap my cheeks in a firm hold. In the valley of his palms, I feel so small, so protected. That I feel this way is a mystery. I hardly know anything about him—apart from the fact that his name’s Thatcher and he resembles a Greek God. It’s obvious he’s rich. Very rich. And that he’s powerful. Very powerful. With him, I’m a thin stemmed flower caught in his stormy emotions. But something tells me, this storm is not out to destroy me; he wants to shield me and keep me safe from everything I’ve feared for so long.

  “Thatcher…” My lips tremble his name, as his firm mouth skims mine, lightly, slowly. The brush of his whiskers delights my skin with love-prickles that he soothes with smooth pecks, the twin sensation wildly titillating. I tangle my fingers into his hair, as his tongue trails the opening of my lips. I part them, inviting him in. I’ve never been kissed before, I let him lead and he’s so sure and confident that I can’t help but melt in his hands. He takes me on a thrill-trip from there. A torrid romance of our lips through scorching breaths.

  He demands, I give. Then he gives, and I fly in his gentle touch. It’s a fair give-and-take and I only want to give and take more and more.

  When I think I might faint from lack of oxygen, his mouth stops chasing mine, to pursue the skin on my neck and shoulders in soft nips. Rolling shudders tap up my spine, spreading over me in one mottled sweep.

  “Holy shit…” My chest heaves, lost in the sheer ecstasy when his fingers double up on the sultry onslaught, tugging down the zipper on my bodice and pulling the neckline along my arms. The silk slides down, letting the chilly gust from the sunroof caress my exposed breasts. I shiver, drawing my arms close.

  Raw desire gleams in his gaze at the sight of my taut nipples.

  “Fuck…” The husky rumble of his throat forces my eyelids shut, partly-coy, mostly-aroused. “Iris,” he dotes on my breast with an eager palm, “You are more stunning that I imagined you’d be.”

  “You imagined?”

  “Baby, I haven’t gotten you out of my brain since I met you.”

  Does he have to be, look and talk so sexy? I’m a quiver mess and I’m afraid I might just come spontaneously like earlier. I’m certain this isn’t normal. It’s not for me. But then I think why can’t it be normal? Why can’t it be my life? I deserve to be worshipped and soar in the arms of a man who is obviously experienced and ready to show me how to make love.

  My eyes roll back, as his tongue flirts with my nipples in quick circles, one and then, the other. Arousal courses down to my clit, wave upon wave upon wave rolling through the tiny pearl. Seeking a release for all that pent-up passion, my fingers reach for his collar but it’s being held secure by a tie. “Thatch…” I whimper, as my fingers return unappeased.

  My whimpers contort the edge of his mouth into sly smirk. “Ask nicely,” he teases me.

  “Thatcher, I want to hold you…” I add, “Please,” on a hot breath that fuses the air between us.

  “And you should have whatever you want.” With one hand, he loosens his tie, his roguish smirk refusing to whither.

  Whatever little fortitude I had leaves me as my body melts inside, dripping down the folds of my pussy.

  Within moments, his tux jacket slides off his shoulders, followed by his shirt.

  Sigh. My fingertips linger in the outline o
f his chest, my heart fangirling over his handsomeness, all over again.

  I can’t tell whose hands do what. But his belt clasp is unbuckled, the button popped open, the zip undone, his trousers and boxers slid off in eager progression.

  My glance drops down to the sight of his cock, huge and glistening with pre-cum. I swallow hard.

  Fuck. I’m dead - in a very good way.

  I sit up and wrap my fingers and lips around the length of his cock. My strokes are timid and my grip seems weak.

  “I’ve never done this before.” I lick my lips and gaze up at him.

  A mellow haze washes his returned gaze. “Let me show you how…” Fisting my hair gently, he maneuvers me till my mouth has adapted to the width of his warm cock. Then, once I’ve learned the rhythm, I keep going until I’m urging fierce groans from his throat.

  He stops me seconds before his peak, the feel of his quaking thighs nearly pushing me over my own. As he comes away, I grab onto his back, a little too eagerly, my freshly manicured nails leaving a welt on his skin.

  “I’m sorry.” I grimace sheepishly.

  “I’ll forgive you.” His raspy words hang in the air for a second. “As long as you let me have my revenge.”

  I laugh nervously. “Oh God…”

  And he does have his revenge on me.

  His body moves over mine and he peels off the gown in one swift sweep. He leans me down and ravages my body. Starting from the base of my throat right down to soft lines beneath my thighs. Sexy nuzzles. Sweet compliments. Soft nips. Spine-tingling bites.

  When I think his revenge is done with, he rolls the straps of my thong down.

  “Thatcher,” my palms skittishly move down to cover my puffy pussy.

  Picking my palms up, he pins them to my sides, his features darkening with want at the sight of my moist pussy. “You’re craving my dick, like I am craving you, Iris,” he whispers.

  Fuck, yes, I am. I think in my head, my cheeks burning like never before.

  Carrying my hips up, he props one leg over his shoulder. “Let me love you…”

  I gasp, breathless, my eyelids clenched close while he lowers his mouth onto my pussy. His tongue-tip teases my clit, while his fingertip teases my entrance. It starts off with a few brushes. I moan in rapture.

  I’ve fantasized about this for the past seven nights and he’s exceeded those fantasies in seven seconds. Before long, his skill evolves into an experience that is otherworldly, baiting my deepest nerves into torrents of thirsty spasms. Fuck. My first foray into the world of sex is with a stranger, in the back of his car. The cliché of it all makes me cringe, but I know I’m enjoying the dreamiest sexperience a girl could ever ask for and I’m sure many have begged.

  A pounding orgasm sears through me, but he doesn’t let me up for air and takes me back over the peak again.

  “Thatcher…that is amazing!” I cry, having lost count of how many orgasms I’ve had. I bring him up to my lips, my legs still shaking. His mouth grants me the kiss I crave, the smell of his musk merging with the aroma of my essence simmering a fresh swirl of tension in my clit.

  As his shaft, proud and demanding, poses at my entrance, doubt wriggles its way into my bliss-filled thoughts again. It’s the first time I’m about to be with a man…what if I’m mistaken? What if this doesn’t end well? What if I’m left hurting?

  One look in his eye and I find a happily-ever-after.

  “Princess…” he holds me, like my soul is his to protect. “With me, you’ll always be loved, and safe…and never hurt.”

  10

  Thatcher

  “You’ll always be loved, and safe…and never hurt.” I cradle her hip up, resting the tip of sex against her wet entrance.

  My cock is raging, my pulse is on a warpath, but I have to slow my entry. My woman is new to this, and her enjoyment is more precious to me than my own. When I can tell she’s ready, I use her wetness to slip the tip in.

  She shudders in my embrace, her limbs seeking my shoulders for support. “It’s… it’s…”

  “I know…I’ll go slow…” Softening the moment with a few delicate kisses, I wait until I can feel the tension relax, before slipping in further.

  “Oh, God…” she pants the words, but her hands hold me tight.

  I pump gently, until the full reach of my cock is deep in her. I’m inside this woman and I’ll never leave. But…lasting is going to be a challenge. The tight fist of her pussy caresses away my past of being alone. When I’m with her, I’m found.

  “You feel so good, baby,” the words slip out of my mouth a couple times as my thrusts intensify, the sensations have our bodies grasping for each other, wanting to pull each other closer until we’re fused.

  I kiss the sides of her face. One I can’t wait to look at for the rest of our lives. My hands fondle her breasts as our lovemaking turns to fucking and ascends into a feverish tempo. Her fingers hook around my shoulders harder, deeper, a giveaway that she’s about to come again.

  The clenching of her center pushes a ripple of pleasures through me, a sensation that builds higher and higher, tighter and tighter. A slew of tense twinges in my gut later, my cock releases into her body the seed that I hope will develop into life one day.

  We rock through the powerful waves together, eyes holding.

  “That…was…fucking…hot!” she calls out, short of breath.

  “Agreed.” I moan as I drop over her cushy chest. If I didn’t have the worry of crushing her under my weight, I would stay here all day.

  Several minutes later, still sweaty and tremoring from lovemaking, I sit up, rubbing her thighs, basking in her afterglow, while she basks in mine.

  “I have something for you.” With a sedate smile, I get dressed and angle over, to remove a box from the glove compartment. “This is for you.” I gift it to her. “As promised.”

  With a soft smile she receives it, removing its packaging carefully. “A cellphone!” she exclaims with happiness. She’s about to celebrate when she notices the model and I can see the wheels turning in her head as she computes the cost. Her expressions morph from surprise to shock.

  “No, Thatcher…” She peers at me in doubt. “No… I can’t take this.”

  As she places it back into the box, her words turn into confounded stutters. “Wait. How…how did you know I’d be here today?” Her eyes cloud and I can see the tension crowd her body, removing all the relaxation we just got her to. She swallows hard. “We only met for a few minutes. Who are you?” I haven’t even said the answer, and tears are already dotting her eyes.

  “I am,” I exhale “I am Thatcher Scott, the CEO of Phenomenon!”

  She flips toward me on her seat. All traces of the misty bliss on her features evaporate like fog on a hot morning. “So…” her voice cracks, “Was this all staged? The job...the…” She glares at the clothes bunched her ankles. “This gown… everything just so… perfect, but only to lure me to be your sex-puppet!”

  “Planned, yes. Staged, no.” I try explaining further, but she's not listening, and slips into her clothes, without a word.

  She struggles with the seats reclining mechanism.

  I help her out and she breaths shaky breaths in my face as I move away. “Iris, please, listen to me. I’m not like the men you’ve encountered. I love you. I do. I can tell you have feelings for me too. I want to be with you forever.” My heart seizes when she won’t look at me.

  I’ve played the playboy game one too many times. I thought I was being generous and princely to her and all I was doing was making her feel used. Every ounce of blood in my body pools in my stomach and I feel nauseous.

  “Just take me home. Now!” she screams in my face.

  I nod and start the car, the purr of the car reminding me of her in my arms, her airy dulcet tones and whimpers.

  But the ride to her house is filled with heavy stillness. A stark contrast to the euphoric cloud we’d been in. She refuses to peep my way once, and keeps her face glued to the passeng
er window, occasionally wiping a tear and with each drop’s fall, I feel like I’ve failed her.

  As I pull into the apartment complex to drop her off, our lull is interrupted by the scenes of an ambulance and a large crowd gathered at the entrance to her building.

  “Oh, my God. Dad!” she exclaims, swinging open the door and lurching out of her seat. As she rushes off to disappear into the crowds, I notice her skin five shades paler.

  11

  Iris

  The doctor spews a string of medical mumbo-jumbo that rings alarms in my head and I’m barely able to stutter a goodbye as they roll dad into emergency surgery. My insurance company is refusing to pay up. I don't know when or if I’ll see the one man who means everything to me again. Tears stream down my cheeks, wetting the Parisian silk into dark spots. This ridiculous gown that was nothing more than a rouse to get my virginity…and maybe my heart, but I can’t think that he was telling the truth when everything else was so false.

  The thought that I have been partying and cruising in a convertible while Dad has been at home sick and in agony, crushes me from the inside. A cold prickle rolls up and down my arms and I keel over in my waiting area chair. Alone. Sobbing. Unperturbed by the stares. They know how I’m feeling and if they don’t then they don’t need to.

  My arms warm as a coat is wraps around me, soft as cashmere.

  I recognize the woodsy cologne on the coat, but I don't look his way and he doesn't send any questions my way either. But I can’t help the pull I feel to him. I can’t help that I’m in need of comfort. I lean my pounding head against his shoulder while he holds my hand.

  My tears eventually dry, the sight of our intertwined palms being the last image crystallized on my pupils before I slip into an exhausted sleep.

  “Miss Morales? Iris Morales,” the voice calls out in my dream and I know it’s a man, but it’s not the one that I crave.