Chapter 18
Roman
When I return to the bungalow, Iris is nowhere to be found. Presumably, she’s where she said she’d be: lying in bed, naked and wide awake, awaiting round two.
I stride toward the bedroom and suddenly realize I don’t have the ice bucket.
Did I leave it on the beach after my call with Cameron?
“Hey, Iris?” I call out as I approach the bedroom.
“I’ll be right back. I think I left the ice bucket on the—” My words catch in my throat when I reach the bedroom doorway and spy Iris in the bed.
She’s not only naked and ready for me, as promised; she’s a wet dream.
Pleasuring herself with a vibrator with her thighs spread open and her head slung back.
I lean my shoulder against the doorframe with a smile. “Excuse me, young lady, who gave you permission to get yourself off? That’s my job this week.”
Iris opens her eyes and flashes me a sultry, inviting look—but she notably doesn’t lift the vibrator from her sweet spot. “You were taking so long to come back, I decided to keep myself wet for you so we can jump right into round two without needing foreplay.”
“I like foreplay.”
She lifts the vibrator.
“No, don’t stop. This is foreplay.” I bite my lower lip. “Turn it to low, though. Let’s draw this out.”
“The lowest setting won’t get me there, no matter how long I do this.”
“That’s perfect. Your orgasms are mine. Put it on low and take it off if you feel like you’re getting really close.”
Iris’s blue eyes blaze. Apparently, she likes this little game, whatever it is. With a flush in her pretty cheeks, she does as she’s told and the hum emanating from the vibrator becomes slower and deeper.
“Good girl,” I whisper softly. I leave my spot in the doorway to sit on the side of the bed, my cock straining against my shorts. “How long does it normally take you to reach the finish line with that thing?”
“So long, I’m embarrassed to tell you. You get me there way, way faster.”
The news makes my cock tingle. There’s nothing I love more than being the best in every sport I attempt.
“Is everything okay?”
I slide my fingertips across her bare thigh. “Hmm?”
She lets out a shaky breath. “The call from your business partner. Is everything okay?”
“Oh. Yeah. It couldn’t be better. Cameron just had a question about some numbers. Sorry the call took so long.”
Iris pouts. “I missed you terribly.”
“Poor baby. Let me make it up to you.” I peel off my shorts, freeing my straining cock, and slide onto the bed next to her warm body. As I get situated, Iris lifts the vibrator and reaches for me, but I gently tell her to keep the vibe going. But only on the lowest setting.
When Iris dutifully returns the vibe to its home, I spread her legs wide and start feasting on her inner thighs while fingering her.
From her thighs, my mouth migrates to her hips and belly before stopping to feast on her hard, pebbled nipples.
From her perky tits, I trail kisses down her belly again, while running my palms up and down her torso, until, eventually, Iris lets out a guttural sound and announces, “I’m gonna come. ”
“Not yet.” I take the vibe from her, turn it off, and set it down. “Come sit on my face, baby. I want to fuck you with my tongue before I split you in two with my cock.”
Iris’s eyebrows shoot up as her lips part in surprise. “I’ve never done that.”
“All the more reason to do it now. Come here. Now.” I lie on my back with my head close the headboard and my hard-on straining toward my abs.
“Don’t think about it. Just do it. Hold onto the bed frame with one hand while you press the vibe against your clit with the other.
Keep it on low, and I’ll take you to heaven. ”
With her chest rising and falling sharply, Iris takes the vibe and begins moving into position. “Are you sure you like doing this?”
“I love it.” In truth, I’ve hardly ever performed oral sex in this position. It’s the rare person who inspires me to make this kind of effort, honestly. But with Iris, all I want to do is make her feel good and come. Hard. Repeatedly. Rinse and repeat.
“When I squeeze your ass cheek twice,” I coo, “that’ll mean it’s time to press the vibe to your clit. Don’t do it before then.” When Iris doesn’t reply, I pat her ass cheek and add, “‘Yes, sir.’ That’s what you need to say to me whenever I give you a direct order.”
“Yes, sir.”
I’m buzzing. This is so fucking hot. “That’s it,” I whisper, gripping Iris’s hips and guiding her into perfect position aboard my face.
With a soft sigh, she settles onto me, and what follows is a tongue-fucking so voracious and uninhibited, it quickly slingshots Iris to the very brink of ecstasy.
In short order, she lets out a whimper that’s so tortured, in fact, I know it’s time to level up and shove her over the edge.
I squeeze her ass cheek twice, and a few seconds later, the low purr of the vibe melds with the sounds of Iris’s delicious torture.
Soon, I’m so blissed out underneath Iris, the entire bungalow could burn to the ground around me and I’m sure I wouldn’t notice.
Finally, when I’m hurtling toward the limits of my own self-control, Iris shrieks and shudders above me, and her body lets loose a squirting, writhing, screaming climax atop my face.
Practically hyperventilating, I guide her off me and onto her back.
And when I’ve got her splayed out deliciously before me like a buffet meal, I voraciously lick up every sweet drop of my trophy from her pussy and thighs.
Before this week is done, I’m going to make Iris squirt again—and even more forcefully than this.
Only, next time, while my cock is buried deep inside her.
“Get on your hands and knees,” I bark out, after Iris’s groans have subsided and I’ve licked every inch of sweetness off her most intimate flesh.
As she complies, I cover my length faster than I’ve ever performed the feat and plunge myself all the way inside her warm, wet tightness with one beastly thrust that makes both of us growl with relief and excitement.
I don’t take her gently this time. I’m not gyrating with finesse. No, I’m railing this woman. Scrambling her insides, exactly like she said she wanted while dressed in pretty, perfect white. And Iris is reacting with primal sounds that tell me she’s enjoying the ride as much as I am.
“Harder,” Iris chokes out. “Harder, Roman.”
There’s no such thing. This is as hard as it gets. But I certainly appreciate the sentiment.
I’m seeing stars from pleasure, but I keep fucking her mercilessly.
When I’m done with her, she won’t be able to imagine fucking someone else.
Not in Hawaii. Not in Denver. Not anywhere, ever again.
It’s not fair of me to want to ruin this poor girl for anyone else, given that I don’t intend to see her again after we leave this temporary paradise, but in this moment, I don’t give a shit about fairness.
My body is taking what it wants and acting on instinct.
I reach around and fondle her swollen bud as I fuck her into oblivion, and pretty soon, I get what I’m after: Iris’s orgasm, accompanied by a scream of ecstasy that’s so unhinged, it sounds like she’s birthing a demon.
Is this what they call seeing God? Because I think I finally understand the expression.
As my body releases, I crumple over Iris’s sweaty body, quaking and gasping for air, before eventually turning her over onto her back. When I see her face, she looks euphoric, in the true sense of the word. She looks physically high.
“That was better than any drug,” she purrs softly. “Not that I’d know, honestly.”
She makes me feel like a god among men. Invincible.
Powerful. Immortal. And without knowing my name.
Is this what Marco was talking about when he said Nicola makes him feel like he can do anything?
I feel this way after playing a particularly good game, of course.
On those rare occasions when I’ve gained monstrous passing yards and delivered an epic beatdown.
But I’ve never once felt this particular sensation in a situation like this.
Truly, the high Iris gives me feels like a once-in-a-lifetime sort of thing—the same kind Marco always talks about having with Nicola.
Jesus, Roman. Stop it. You’ve known this woman for a day, and this is a simple vacation fling with no possibility of becoming more. It’s batshit crazy to even think about comparing your chemistry with Iris to whatever Marco feels with Nicola. His wife.
“I’d sure love a cocktail about now,” Iris says flirtatiously.
I grimace. “I left the ice bucket on the beach.”
“What? How?”
“I took it out there while I was talking to my business partner and forgot it.”
Iris makes a joke comparing the “poor ice bucket” to Wilson, the volleyball from Castaway, and I can’t help laughing along with her. It’s not all that funny a joke, objectively, but whenever Iris gets going, I can’t help losing it, too.
“I was gonna find an ice machine after my call,” I try to explain, still laughing. “But then I forgot all about it.”
Iris lays her palm on my bare chest. “It’s okay. It just means you’re not perfect after all. What a relief.”
With a huge grin, I kiss the top of her head. I can’t believe this is all happening without Iris knowing who I am. I feel like a kid on Christmas. “Hey, when’s your flight home?”
She cocks her head. “Sunday morning.”
“Mine, too.” My heart flutters. Iris has said multiple times she’s here for the whole week, but it’s a relief to get confirmation her timing precisely matches mine.
I would have been bummed to have to say goodbye to her a single day earlier than my own flight to LA.
“I’m having a blast with you,” I admit, looking into her earnest blue eyes.
“I’m having a blast with you, too. The best time ever.”
My stomach tightens as I suppress the ridiculous urge to ask Iris about her work schedule back home. Would she feel open to traveling on weekends now and again if her expenses were fully covered by me?
No, Roman. What the fuck? You can’t ask her that without admitting you’re not a gym owner in Delaware, remember? And you don’t have time for her, regardless. So, stop.
I slide my finger over that gorgeous curve in Iris’s hip again. “I feel like I should mention . . . I’ve got some major moving parts in my life right now, so this week in paradise is all I can possibly offer to you.”
Iris looks incredulous. “I thought you said people flinging don’t talk about the fling.”
“Well, yeah.” I clear my throat. “Things are going really well, though, so I figured maybe I should clarify things anyway. Just, you know, to keep things crystal clear. For both of us. So nobody gets hurt.”
Iris snickers. “You’re not the only one with moving parts, remember?” She giggles. “As far as I’m concerned, ‘What happens in Kauai stays in Kauai’ is my mantra this week. That’s all I can offer you, too. To put it mildly.”
She’s rendered me speechless. That’s objectively the best possible response. The one I should want to hear. And I do. Although maybe not that emphatically.
“Great,” I murmur. “That’s good.”
Iris rolls her eyes. “God knows I’m the last person who should be thinking about dating anyone, especially long-
distance.” She pats my arm. “I’m just using you for hot sex, baby. You saw the video and read the comments. I’m a wanton hussy. A slut. A man-eater. We’re all good.”
I can’t help cracking up with her. Not to mention, sighing with relief that Iris seems to be taking all those horrible comments in stride so quickly.
“So, listen,” I say. “Besides playing golf with my friend on Friday, I’m totally free this week.
I’d love to plan a bunch more dates for us, if you’d like. ”
“I’d love to spend as much time with you as possible, but you don’t have to plan any more elaborate dates. Today was expensive, Roman. Save your money.”
I resist the urge to smirk. “Don’t worry about that. I want to show you a good time. But only if that sounds good to you.”
Iris slides her palm onto my bare stomach. “That sounds like heaven to me.”
“Good. Then it’s settled.” I lean in and kiss her, feeling oddly unsettled.
Logically, I should be elated that went so smoothly—that there are no crossed wires or miscommunications about how and when this brief affair will end.
But strangely, I find myself feeling a touch .
. . what is that? Disappointed? Couldn’t Iris have at least pouted or frowned a bit when I expressly drew a proverbial line in the sand?
I sit up and hand Iris the room service menu off the nightstand. “While I go out to find that damned ice bucket and get us some ice, order a shit ton of food for us.”
“What do you want?”
I start throwing on clothes. “Anything and everything that looks good to you. Surprise me.”
“What’s your budget?”
“Five hundred dollars.”
She rolls her eyes. “Tell me, so I don’t spend too much.”
“That’s not possible. Have fun. Surprise me.”
After watching me for a long beat, Iris rises onto her elbows. “I’m sorry to ask a question that might ruin the vibe here, but do you promise Cameron on your phone is your work partner, and not your wife or girlfriend?”
My heart squeezes. My God, this poor girl has been through it.
I stop what I’m doing and sit on the bed. “I’m as single as a man can possibly be. I swear it on my life. Cameron’s been my best friend since college, and we’re in business together.”
Iris visibly relaxes. “Thank you. Sorry. I’m paranoid.”
“Understandably.” I look around for my phone. “Do you want to see a photo of Cameron? We played golf a couple weeks ago and I think—”
“No, no, I believe you. I just got a weird feeling for a second, so I decided to be bold and ask, rather than keeping my freak-out to myself.”
“Good. Never shy away from speaking your mind with me or anyone else.” I find my shoes and sit on the edge of the bed to put them on. “Did I do something to give you a weird feeling?”
Iris shrugs. “Not specifically. All of a sudden, I just got this paranoid feeling you’re lying to me about something. But it’s fine. It’s gone now. You’ve promised you’re single, and I believe you.”
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Should I tell her now?
Am I doing more harm than good by keeping a low profile?
“Roman?”
“Hmm?”
“Are you okay?”
No. I can’t do it. I’m having way too much fun getting to know her without “Roman Maguire” getting in the way. “Yeah, I’m great. Just trying to remember where I put the damned ice bucket.”
Iris giggles again. “Well, you’d better figure it out soon, because Momma needs a spiced rum punch.”