Chapter Thirty-Eight
Barrett could have lived in the moment Iris collapsed into her back, arms wrapping around her waist, forever. Indeed, she lingered, the key to her apartment simply hovering in the air as she leaned back into Iris, just for a minute.
They’d come so far from when Barrett simply speaking to Iris would cause her to stiffen and scowl. Now, she was the place Iris relaxed, the one she let her public-facing mask drop off around so she could be entirely herself.
Her touch did something to soothe the nervous electricity that had been pulsing through Barrett’s body all evening—all day, really. From the moment they’d kissed, Barrett had learned that kissing Iris was an even better version of heaven than she’d been able to imagine.
“Are you going to open the door?” Iris whispered against Barrett’s neck, sending a shudder through her whole body.
“Mm-hm.” But even comprehending how she’d fit the key in the lock was gone from her mind when Iris started kissing up her throat towards her jaw.
They’d held hands while walking Oscar after work, while bringing him back to the apartment, and through most of dinner. They’d kissed again. But there was still something different about Iris kissing her skin like that.
When Iris’ mouth made it to Barrett’s ear, she paused, breathing a laugh. “Open the door, Barrett.”
“It’s a little difficult to concentrate on anything when you’re doing that,” Barrett shot back.
“Oh, my apologies.” With that, she was gone, leaving Barrett bereft.
She whipped around to find Iris looking smug, standing a couple of feet away. “Where do you think you’re going?”
Iris’s responding smirk was teasing and electrifying. “Just helping you keep a clear mind.”
“I don’t need a clear mind.”
“You do if you want to have sex. The stairwell where all your neighbors can catch us isn’t really my thing.”
There was a part of Barrett that was ready to whip her clothes off anywhere if she was getting to sleep with Iris, but, inevitably, she knew Iris was right.
They’d talked before leaving the restaurant about what would happen when they made it back to Barrett’s apartment—a place where Iris was becoming a permanent fixture, much to Barrett’s enjoyment.
She hadn’t been expecting anything—wanting it, sure, but they’d only just kissed, and she wasn’t in any rush.
She just wanted Iris, in whichever ways Iris wanted her.
Apparently, Iris wanted her physically.
Barrett turned back to her door, remembering how the locks worked, and let them into the apartment. Oscar was waiting eagerly on the other side, equally as happy to see Iris as he was Barrett.
They fussed over him for several long minutes as he ran around the apartment, bringing them various toys to throw. And, once he got tired, Iris was the one to head over to his treat jar.
She held up a chew that would keep him busy for a good while, shooting Barrett a questioning look.
“Definitely,” Barrett said, before running her eyes up and down Iris’ body. She was so fucking perfect.
Iris had barely handed Oscar the treat and washed her hands before Barrett was sliding her own damp hand into Iris’.
They’d shared the bed during their sleepover, but the absence of their friends made the whole thing feel like a different room entirely. And Barrett didn’t even make it to the bed before she needed to kiss Iris.
Iris kissed her back eagerly, moving readily when Barrett pressed her up against the wall beside the bedroom door. For one moment, it was blissful, mind-bending perfection. Iris’ mouth eager on her own, her hands pulling Barrett closer. Then, her breathing faltered.
Barrett pulled back in alarm. “Are you okay?”
Iris nodded, a distant look in her eyes. “Sorry.”
“You don’t need to be sorry. We can stop.”
She shook her head but didn’t seem certain.
Barrett took another step back. “Princess, what happened? Can you tell me?”
Her eyes focused on Barrett’s after a long moment. She gestured to the wall at her back. “I just…”
“Felt trapped,” Barrett said, realizing exactly what had happened.
“Yeah. Sorry.”
“You don’t have to be sorry,” Barrett assured her again. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize, but I promise I’ll never do that again.”
Iris took several deep breaths before stepping forward and reaching for Barrett again. “I mean, I liked it until my brain panicked. I liked everything else about it.”
Barrett smiled back at her. “I aim to please, but I can do that without hurting you.”
“No. I’m sorry. It’s silly.”
“It’s not silly. And we can try again another time. I promise. I’m not going to leave you or get angry because you didn’t want to have sex.”
Iris bit her lip, flushing. “I still want to have sex.”
“Are you sure?”
She traced one finger over Barrett’s lips, considering. “You stopped. I didn’t even say anything.”
“Not out loud, maybe, but your body said plenty, and I was listening.”
She nodded, looking overcome, and she pressed forward to kiss Barrett again, softer than before.
“It’s really okay if you want to wait.” Barrett was gasping the words as Iris kissed her throat, turning them so Barrett was against the wall. She went willingly.
“This way is better.”
Barrett would take her anywhere Iris wanted it, but she definitely wasn’t complaining about being backed up against a wall.
Iris had always been sexy when she was in charge.
Just like earlier when she’d been telling that annoying McMillan guy that he didn’t own the city and couldn’t just do whatever the hell he wanted.
She moaned, her head falling back against the wall as Iris started slowly pulling her shirt from her trousers, her fingers skimming Barrett’s stomach.
“Still good?” she asked, looking up at Barrett.
“Absolutely superb, princess.”
Iris laughed delightedly and slowly began undoing the buttons, her eyes locked on Barrett’s.
Barrett had had sex before, of course. She’d been undressed before.
But she’d never had anyone look at her that way while doing it.
She’d never wanted anyone to look at her that way, like she was the best thing to ever exist. Not until Iris.
With Iris, she felt drunk on the sensation, like she couldn’t get enough.
Like Iris would barely need to touch her and Barrett would come simply from the exquisite experience of having her there, of being the one she looked at that way.
She slipped Barrett’s shirt off and traced her fingers reverently over the exposed skin, every bit of it. “I didn’t realize your tattoo was so big.”
Barrett smiled, recognizing that Iris had only ever seen glimpses of the part on her forearm. She unbuckled her own pants and dropped them to the floor.
For one second, Iris looked as though she was going to protest. However, when her eyes caught on the tattoos that covered Barrett’s hip and left calf, her mouth snapped shut and she moved her fingers to trace it, too.
“Oscar,” she murmured, tracing the photorealistic image of him that covered a decent chunk of Barrett’s outer thigh. Most of her tattoos were fine-line ones. Not him.
“It felt right. Got to honor him correctly.”
“It’s beautiful.” She stroked the red outline of his paw just under his face. “This is the only color one?”
Barrett laughed. “No. This one too.” She twisted her arm to show Iris the red scratch.
She furrowed her brow, trying to figure out what it was. “A scratch? From Oscar?”
“Yes. And no. From Georgie. The absolute menace.”
Iris laughed. “That makes more sense.”
“Doesn’t it?” Barrett turned to show Iris her back, the place where the tattoos from her arm petered out on her shoulder, reaching down towards her opposite hip where they started up again. She’d always liked the way it looked, the way it felt, those two parts of her reaching out for each other.
“They’re gorgeous.” She was so emphatic, so genuine, her fingers caressing Barrett’s back to join the space between the images. “You’re gorgeous.”
“So are you,” Barrett said earnestly, turning back to face her.
“You haven’t seen me without my clothes yet. Perhaps I’m a hideous monster under this dress.”
“Unlikely, but I can rectify that situation.” She desperately wanted to. She’d been dreaming of Iris for longer than she’d like to admit, wanting the soft perfection of her constantly.
She held one finger in the air, waving it in a circle, asking Iris to turn around. It needed to be her choice. Barrett didn’t want her to feel trapped or restrained again.
Iris tilted her head, grinning, and turned willingly. “Oh.”
Barrett looked up, meeting Iris’ gaze in the mirror that was directly opposite them. The one Iris was staring directly into, watching Barrett.
“I didn’t realize we were putting on a show.”
Barrett laughed. “A show for ourselves?”
“Still a show, isn’t it?” There was something silky in her voice that told Barrett she wasn’t against the idea.
Barrett hummed, running her fingers up Iris’ arms and shoulders to the zipper on her dress. “Should I make that show more interesting?”
Iris was blushing furiously but she nodded readily, and Barrett grinned as she slowly pulled the zip down. Once it reached Iris’ waist, Barrett snapped her gaze back to Iris’ face. She was absolutely mesmerized watching Barrett in the mirror.
With very little prompting, the dress slipped down Iris’ body and Barrett could barely breathe through how stunning she was. Soft rolls and dimples and glittering stretch marks. The most perfect woman Barrett had ever seen.
“Hideous?” Iris asked. She was clearly trying for a joke, but there was genuine anxiety underneath.
Barrett glared warningly at her in the mirror. “Princess, which part of my reaction is suggesting that?”
“Well, no part, but, you know. It’s polite to check.”
Barrett shook her head, moving her hands to Iris’ bra. “Can I take this off?”
“Of course.”
As she stripped Iris and then herself of their remaining clothing, her gaze flicked from the mirror to Iris’ very real skin, exposed and beautiful in front of her. “You are so perfect… so perfect… so perfect,” she said between kisses. I love you, I love you, I love you.