Chapter 8
Iris
Tatiana: Where are you?
Me: In the bathroom with the door closed and the shower running. I’m supposed to be taking a shower before sliding into bed naked with him.
Tatiana: LOL. Iris, I say this with love, but you’re overthinking this.
Kaylee: Tati’s right. Now get into that shower and into that bed and have the best sex of your life, girlie!
Me: I’m nervous. I think I’ve somehow convinced him I’m a total sex kitten, and now I’m worried I won’t live up to the hype.
Kaylee: Snort. Sweetie, I say this with love, but there’s no way in hell that man thinks you’re a sex kitten. Sorry. Just be enthusiastic, and I promise he’ll think you’re amazing in bed.
Tatiana: ^^ THIS!
Me: I know I’ve never been a seductress before, but here, I swear I’m channeling my inner Kaylee. I brazenly seduced that man!
Kaylee: Woohoo! How’d you do it? Tell us so we can use your techniques.
Tatiana: Me, anyway. I don’t think you need any help, Kaylee.
Kaylee: Hey, it never hurts to switch things up.
Me: I looked him right in the eyes and said, “I want you, Roman.”
Tatiana: Atta girl! Confident, sexy, and clear. Nice!
Kaylee: *wipes a tear of pride* Our little girl’s grown up, Tati!
Me: Except that now I’m worried my mouth wrote a check my body can’t cash! What if it turns out I’ve never had an O with Brandon, not because he’s bad at sex like you both keep telling me, but because I am?
Kaylee: Impossible. Do you want to have sex with this man?
Me: So much, I’m in physical pain.
Kaylee: Then you’ll slay, as far as he’s concerned. Sorry to be blunt about it, but as long as you’re wet and into it, he’ll think you’re a goddess.
Tatiana: ^^ This. Let the hottie lead the way, let loose, stop overthinking it, and I promise, you’ll both have a stupendous time.
Kaylee: Now get into that shower and into that man’s bed and get yourself railed and scrambled for the first time, babyyyyy!
My hair is wet and towel dried. My skin is covered in goosebumps, despite the pleasant temperature of the bedroom.
I’m doing my best to sashay confidently toward Roman’s naked, prostrate frame on the bed, but as I clutch the white hotel towel wrapped around my torso, I’m pretty sure I look more like the trombone player in a marching band than a femme fatale.
Roman has pulled back the palm-tree-covered duvet and top sheet to reveal every inch of his naked, tanned skin.
His abs are cut. His legs look powerful.
His cock is rock-hard and straining—and so much bigger than it looked when it was hanging flaccidly between his thighs.
Either Brandon was on the small side—rather than average like I’ve always presumed—or this guy is hung like a horse. Will that thing even fit inside me?
Roman grins as I walk toward him. “Hi there,” he says, sitting up onto his elbows.
“Hi,” I squeak out. “You look really good.”
“And you look like an angel sent straight from heaven.”
I snort. “Yeah, I bruised my tailbone when my wings malfunctioned on the way down, so please be gentle with me.” Shit. I always resort to humor when I’m nervous.
“Are you nervous, sweetheart?” Roman asks, apparently reading my mind. Crap. Maybe Kaylee and Tatiana were right, and I haven’t fooled this man at all.
“A little,” I admit. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to do this. I do.”
Roman moves into a kneeling position at the end of the bed, his cock filling the small space between our bodies.
He slides a finger underneath my chin. “We can make out and do nothing more than that. We can put our clothes back on and talk again. Whatever you want to do. Like I said, my invitation to let you sleep here isn’t dependent on you having sex with me. ”
My heart flutters, along with other parts of my anatomy. “I didn’t think that. I seduced you, remember?”
Roman smiles in a way that makes me blush.
“You don’t agree I seduced you?”
Roman’s smile broadens. “I think you’re very cute to think so.”
I’ve been trying hard to be sexy, so the comment stings a bit, even though it was delivered with a radiant smile.
“It’s a compliment,” Roman says quickly. “Sorry. Whatever. Yes, you seduced me, and it was awesome. You were saying?”
I clear my throat, feeling a bit flustered. “That it would help me if you’d take the lead.”
“It’d be my pleasure.” He strokes my hair and whispers, “Is this your first time, Iris?” So much for my sex kitten delusions.
May they rest in peace. I’m embarrassed by the question, but I think it’s a fair one, all things considered.
Roman has no idea I was supposed to get married yesterday.
And I have several friends my age who are still virgins, each of them for their own reasons.
These days, I think it’s very normal for women to be virgins well into their twenties and beyond.
“No, I’ve had sex before,” I reply. “Lots of times.” I decide to leave it at that.
It’s not my general habit to answer questions succinctly.
I’m a compulsive oversharer by nature. But this one time, I force myself to do it to preserve at least a shred of mystery.
And what woman of mystery has only had sex with one boyfriend?
“I really want to do this with you, Roman,” I insist. “It’s just that I’ve never had a one-night stand, per se, so it would be helpful if you’d take the lead. ”
“Luckily, that’s my all-time favorite thing to do—taking the lead.” He skims his fingertips across the top ridge of my towel. “Can I take this off?”
My heart is racing, and my tongue feels thick in my mouth, so I nod slowly.
With hungry eyes, Roman loosens my towel, causing it to slide to the floor at my feet.
Once I’m standing naked before him, his dark eyes rake over me, and his chest expands sharply before he leans in and kisses me again.
When our kiss becomes passionate, his mouth travels south, at which point he kisses and laps at my breasts.
Holy crap.
As Roman’s mouth becomes more and more voracious, arousal begins flooding every nerve ending between my legs even more forcefully. So much so, I can’t help shivering, and then wobbling, in place with each movement of his tongue and lips. With each assured caress of his warm hands.
A tortured moan escapes my lips that surprises me. And then, a groan that shocks the hell out of me and prompts Roman to supply one of his own.
Roman slides his warm palms to my hips and trails kisses from my breasts down my belly until, finally, he pulls me onto the bed and lays me down on my back.
Once I’m lying next to him and writhing with arousal, he begins kissing my mouth again, deeply this time, while brushing his fingertips up and down between my legs.
In record speed, I’m so turned on, I can’t help whimpering and groaning into his mouth.
I’ve never experienced foreplay this slow and hot.
Actually, have I ever experienced foreplay at all?
If this is how it’s supposed to go, then the answer to that question is an emphatic no.
As Roman’s tongue tangles with mine, he continues brushing his fingertips gently between my legs, up and down, but without ever going in for the kill.
Occasionally, he lets his fingers drift to my inner thighs.
To my hipbone. To my belly. But always, he returns to sweeping them up and down between my legs like he’s gently coaxing a shy flower to fully bloom.
Eventually, the tactic makes me so damned wet and horny, it’s all I can do not to grab his hand and shove his fingers inside me or wantonly beg him to fuck me. I’ve never felt this hungry to get penetrated before. This is a new sensation for me. I feel more animal than human.
Still kissing me, Roman finally slides his fingers inside me, breaching my body for the first time, and the loud, feral moan of relief and excitement that escapes me is totally foreign to me. What was that? I’ve never made a guttural, desperate sound like that in my life.
At the sound of my intense arousal, Roman groans in a way that sends goosebumps erupting across my body.
“You’re so fucking wet for me,” he whispers hoarsely.
“I want you,” I whisper back, trembling with anticipation.
“Beg me for it,” he coos.
“I want you, Roman. Please.”
“You can do better than that.”
“I want you inside me. Please, Roman. Please.”
“Better. But patience. You’ll get every inch of me soon enough. But only when I say it’s time.”
Oh my God, this feels like a fantasy come to life.
All this time, I’ve thought something was wrong with me.
That I had a dryness problem. A passion problem.
An orgasm problem. I even thought maybe I was asexual.
But now, just this fast, I know I had a Brandon problem.
I always thought I was physically attracted to him.
But what I felt was nothing like this. With Roman, I feel rabid.
Ravenous. Like I’d do anything to scratch the itch Roman has magically ignited deep inside me.
Speaking of magic, Roman’s doing something magical with his fingers between my legs—something so delicious, it elicits loud moans from me while also making my eyes roll back.
As he masterfully fingers me, he devours my lips, neck, jawline, and cheeks.
He whispers into my ear that I’m hot, sexy, beautiful, a goddamned angel.
That he can’t wait to taste my sweet pussy. That I’m driving him crazy.
All of a sudden, I feel something seize hold of me.
Something that makes my innermost intimate muscles feel like they’re twisting before holding in abeyance.
It’s like my entire body is on the bitter cusp of unraveling.
I’ve felt a glimmer of this sensation right before giving myself an orgasm with my vibrator, but I’ve never experienced it with this kind of force and magnitude—the kind that takes my breath away and makes my eyes roll back into my head.
“That’s it, baby,” Roman coos. “You’re so fucking sexy.”