Chapter Eight
Max
I explore her mouth, and she explores me.
There’s something about our gorgeous houseguest that makes me come over all needy and protective.
I want to make her world well again, and to help her realise her potential.
Why? Well… Iris is adorable for one. Beautiful for another.
And I’ve a feeling she’s the missing piece we’ve been waiting for to make Lucidity whole again.
It’s a gut feeling, a certainty that she washed up at our door for a reason.
Maybe the fix is as simple as the way she makes me feel like a flesh-and-blood person, rather than a caricature of a man.
The three of us, we’ve all been walking around like empty shells for months, drained of all the vitality we once had in abundance, our creativity stifled by expectations, or ruined by charlatans who ought never to be allowed near a sound studio.
A fucking producer should know better than to overload things with so many layers.
Nothing had any room left to breathe. Even the drums got smothered.
Complicated doesn’t always equal genius.
It’s like cooking. Sometimes the best meals are the simplest.
Iris’s hands tighten around my biceps as she clings to me. She’s uncomplicated, unlike Wynter. I like her for that. There aren’t layers you have to peel away to figure out what she’s thinking.
She wears her heart on her sleeve.
Kissing her is like supping on nectar.
Sweet. Pure. And addictive.
Then, when I rub against her, the purrs in her throat make my cock stiffen to the point of discomfort, trapped as it is behind the rigidity of my zip. If she’d only slide a hand downwards, relieve the pressure.
I need more friction. Crave the touch of her hand and the velvet heat of her pussy.
It takes a bit of manipulation, but I free her of the tangle of borrowed clothing, then I capture her gaze and wet two fingers while she’s watching.
The look in her eyes as I lower them is intoxicating. Surprise. Desire.
“Max,” she groans as I tease said digits along the split of her pussy, then pinpoint my focus on her clit.
She’s wet and hard as a pearl.
“Oh, God!”
She jerks against my touch, rocking her hips to meet the strokes. It all becomes instinctive between us.
I lick a line up the side of her throat. “Unfasten my fly, baby.”
That is all the encouragement she needs. Air kisses my skin, then her hand encompasses me. We stroke one another, heads pressed together, breathing in one another’s excited gasps.
“Am I easy for doing this?”
“Am I?” I counter.
She immediately shakes her head.
“Then nor are you.”
“Even though I made out with Reid?”
“Even if you do so again.”
Her face lights up like I’ve said something magical. Like she was looking for raindrops and found diamonds instead. “I really want to fuck you,” I say. I want her to know how much I want her. “But I don’t want to rush you, if you’re not…”
She applies her hungry mouth to mine, and her dainty hands rake across my back. “I want you, Max.”
“We’ll take it slow.”
“We don’t have to.”
We do. I’m a big guy, and she’s titchy, besides, I want to watch her come, and once I’m inside of her, I’ll be too far gone to truly appreciate the beauty of it when she comes apart.
“Max,” she gasps again, encouragingly. It’s a sound I want to hear again and again. This is crazy, but good crazy. Sometimes you have to let go, say shove it to the rules, and just follow your instincts. It doesn’t matter if she’s into my band mates too. I still want this. I still want her.
I get my thumb in on the action, using it on the underside of her clit while I use my fingers to give her a taste of what’s to come. Hardly takes a moment before she’s groaning out her orgasm and flooding my hand with her juices.
“Fuck,” she cries. “Fuck… oh, fuck.” She tries to reel me in, as her muscles spasm around my fingers.
“Put it in, Max.”
“So needy,” I tease. “You can have a little taste, but no more than that until after dinner.”
“I don’t want to wait until after dinner. More now, please. Max!”
I obligingly give an inch. It takes every bit of my strength not to push deeper. None of this was planned. I didn’t come prepared, and I don’t carry condoms around in my pockets.
“I’m on birth control,” she ventures. “If that’s what’s holding you back.”
Shivers race through my body. The grip of her is intoxicating. I’m only just inside her. It doesn’t count as penetration. Not really. “Don’t tempt me.”
I’ll succumb if she does. I know I will. She’s like my personal Siren. At her command, I’ll obey her every wish. It’d be so easy to pull her forward right onto me.
She wriggles and gasps as I stroke the head of my cock through her wetness away from her entrance and up to stroke her clit. The way she gasps reminds me of the shiver of my high-hat when it’s tapped extra lightly.
“I never thought you’d be into torture.”
“This is agony for me, too.”
I watch her as I tease my cock back and forth between where she wants me to slide and the external pleasure point that’s now hard as a bead.
She wails as I touch her there. Makes a frantic grab for the nearby tea towel and shoves it into her mouth.
The late afternoon light streams through the window over the sink to our left, and paints licks of amber through her hair. She spits out the towel to lock our lips again, while her fingers press into the small of my back, coaxing me closer.
I could do it. So rarely am I ever first at anything. I’m only a narrow thread away from casting caution to the wind.
Last of us to ever be kissed. Last to know the divine sensation of wet pussy cradling my cock. Last to discover my musical ability.
I’m the afterthought. The other guy in Lucidity.
Iris never makes me feel like that.
“Hey, how long is food going to be?”
Wynter makes an abrupt halt just over the kitchen threshold.
Iris’s cheeks flame. She turns her head as if removing Wynt from her peripheral vision will excise him from reality.
“Got a little sidetracked with our guest.”
“Yeah. I can see that.”
He about turns and exits to the lounge.
Tears tumble down Iris’s cheeks. “He’s gonna tell Reid.”
I was going to tell Reid.
“Iris, I told you. You don’t need to worry. This isn’t going to cause issues.” I’m not sure how to convince her of that.
Wynter returns. “Figured you might need one of these.” He slaps a condom foil down on the countertop beside us but accidentally catches the coffee spoon as he does. It flips up, and lands on the floor. Automatically, he retrieves it. He can’t reach the sink to drop it there.
The longer he lingers, the more certain I become that I’m not going to need it. I can feel Iris tensing. He’s gawping at us. Well, at her. At her splayed thighs and the ruby lips of her pussy.
“Wynt, some space, eh?”
“Sure.” He slides out of the room, this time closing the door behind him.
I press our brows together. Iris giggles, her nerves getting the better of her. It makes me do the same. The tension dissolves a little.
I nudge against her, run my nose over her cheek as I seek out her lips again.
“Still want this?”
She answers by wrapping her arms around my neck and exploring my mouth with her tongue. “Fuck me and then feed me,” she whispers into my ear as I roll the protection on.
“Cute.”
I sink into her and it’s as heavenly as I predicted. Our bodies mould perfectly. She’s barely a weight in my arms as I make her sweat and groan.
When I come—far faster than I’d like. I want it to last forever—it’s with the combined scent of Wynt’s shampoo, Reid’s aftershave, Iris’s skin, and the nearby washing up liquid in my nostrils.