2. IVAN #2
And Christ, I want it. Want to bury myself inside her, feel her tight heat clench around me, claim every inch of her until she can't remember her own name, let alone that lie about having a crush on Nate.
I want to watch her face as I take her innocence, hear her cry out when I make her come on my cock.
But not like this.
Not when she's still lying to herself. Not when she's hiding behind excuses and pretending this is about someone else.
I want her to choose me. To look me in the eye and admit what we both know. That this was never about that kid. That she's been mine since the moment our eyes met.
"I'll make you feel good," I murmur, hand sliding down her stomach toward the waistband of her jeans. "So fucking good, Iris. I'll make you come without my dick inside you." Not yet. I stop myself from saying these words, so I won't scare her even more.
Her breath stutters, and I can see the war in her eyes—fear, desire, guilt, need all tangled together.
"You're already soaking for me, aren't you?" I pop the button of her jeans, and she gasps. "Your pussy's aching. Throbbing. You need to come so bad it hurts."
"Ivan—" Her fingers dig into my shoulders, but she's not pushing me away. She's holding on. "Please."
"Please what?" I ease the zipper down, knuckles brushing against damp cotton. "Please stop? Or please touch you?"
She closes her eyes, chest heaving. Color floods her face, spreading down her throat, and when she opens her eyes again, they're dark with want.
"Touch me," she whispers.
Victory surges through me, hot and sharp.
"Good girl." I hook my fingers in her jeans and panties, dragging them down her hips. She lifts for me, letting me strip her bare, and when I finally see her—flushed and wet and spread out on my bed—something possessive and primal locks into place in my chest.
Mine.
I'll prove it to her. I'll make her come so hard she forgets every other man exists. I'll ruin her for anyone else, touch by touch, until the only name on her lips is mine.
"Relax," I murmur, settling between her thighs. "Let your stepbrother take care of you."
I lower my mouth to her breast again, unable to resist. My teeth scrape her nipple before I seal my lips and suck hard, and sweet milk floods my tongue. She arches beneath me, hands flying to my hair, nails scraping my scalp.
My hand slides between her thighs, and Christ—she's drenched. Soaking wet and hot against my palm. I drag my fingers through her folds, gathering her slick, and she whimpers into my hair.
"So fucking wet," I growl against her breast, tongue circling her nipple. "Your pussy's dripping for me, ."
"Ivan—"
I find her clit, swollen and sensitive, and circle it with deliberate pressure. Her hips jerk off the bed, thighs trembling on either side of my ribs.
"That's it." I switch breasts, sucking deep while my fingers work her clit in slow, torturous circles. Milk spills across my tongue, and I groan, kneading her breast to coax more flow. "Let me hear you."
She's panting now, broken sounds spilling from her lips with every stroke of my fingers. Her pussy clenches against nothing, hips rolling to chase more friction, and I can feel how close she already is—wound tight and desperate.
I slide one finger inside her, and she screams.
"Fuck." Her walls clamp down on my finger, tight and scorching hot. Virgin-tight. I pump slowly, working her open, and her head thrashes on my pillow. "You're so goddamn tight, Iris."
"Please—oh God?—"
I add a second finger, stretching her, and the whimper that tears from her throat nearly undoes me. Her thighs clench around my ribs, whole body trembling, and I can feel her pussy flutter and squeeze around my fingers.
I curl them, finding that spot inside her, and her back bows clean off the bed.
"Right there—Ivan—fuck?—"
Hearing her curse—sweet, innocent Iris who blushes at everything—sends heat straight to my cock. I suck harder on her nipple, fingers pumping in and out of her tight cunt while my thumb works her clit, and she's sobbing now, incoherent, hips grinding against my hand.
"Come for me," I rasp against her breast. "Come on your stepbrother's fingers."
Her eyes squeeze shut, tears streaming down her temples into her hair. Her lips are parted, swollen from biting, and her face is flushed deep pink. She's gorgeous. Wrecked. Mine.
I thrust harder, fingers curling with every stroke, and her pussy clenches rhythmically around me.
"Ivan—I can't—I'm?—"
"Yes, you can." I scrape my teeth over her nipple. "Come, Iris. Now."
She detonates.
Her whole body locks, back arching impossibly high, and her scream tears through my bedroom. Her pussy clamps down on my fingers, spasming in waves, and I feel the gush of wetness coating my palm. I work her through it, pumping and circling until she's thrashing, sobbing, begging me to stop.
"Too much—please—I can't?—"
I ease off, gentling my touch, and pull my fingers free. They're soaked, glistening with her cum, and I bring them to my mouth.
Her eyes fly open, glazed and unfocused, just in time to watch me suck her taste from my fingers.
"Delicious," I murmur.
She stares at me, chest heaving, lips trembling, completely destroyed.
Perfect.
I settle beside her on the bed, pulling her against my chest. Her body is still trembling, aftershocks rolling through her in waves. I press my lips to her temple, breathing in the scent of her—honey and cream and sex.
"You okay?"
She nods against my chest, curls tickling my jaw. "Yeah."
Her voice is soft, wrecked, and satisfaction curls through me. I did that. Made her come apart, made her scream my name until she couldn't breathe.
Not done yet. Not even close.
I'll have her completely. Soon. She'll stop lying to herself about Nate, stop pretending this is just a lesson, and she'll finally admit what we both know.
That she's mine.
For now, though, I need to give her space. Let her come down from the high, let her think this is still about loosening up for some high school crush who doesn't deserve to breathe the same air as her.
We lie there in silence, her breath gradually evening out against my ribs. Her fingers trace idle patterns on my chest, and I wonder if she realizes she's doing it—touching me like she has the right. Like this is normal.
It should be.
After a few minutes, an idea takes shape.
"We should go out," I say.
She tilts her head back to look at me, amber eyes still hazy. "What?"
"On a date." I brush a curl behind her ear, and she shivers. "You're so buried in books all the time. You should enjoy being young. Do some crazy shit."
Her brow furrows. "Crazy shit?"
I smirk. "Yeah. Live a little." I force the next words out, hating every syllable. "Nate will love that."
Her expression shifts—something flickers across her face that I can't quite read—but she nods slowly. "And get arrested?"
"Only if you get caught." I grin, and she laughs.
God, that sound. Light and genuine and so fucking her. I want to bottle it, keep it locked away where only I can hear it.
"Okay." She settles back against my chest, fingers resuming their gentle exploration. "Let's do it."