Slice of Pi 2 (21 page)

“Well, we're glad.” Will grinned. “We'll have the lawyer draw up a contract for use of your art in
Endgame
, and see where things go from there. And I don't mind saying that I'm relieved not to lose you in HR.”

Iris laughed, feeling her own wave of relief. As she headed for the door, she realized all the tension she'd been holding about this job had dropped away. She suddenly felt ten pounds lighter and awash with optimism and hope—even her confusing situation with Owen seemed suddenly manageable. Which reminded her. She turned back to Will. “Oh. My date for the party tomorrow happens to be the owner of Sugar Rush. So . . . I can pick up the candy apples you ordered.”

Will's eyebrows rose. “All right, then. That's convenient.” He laughed. “See you both tomorrow night.”

---

It wasn't like Owen had never had a woman stay over his house before. It had happened plenty during his other relationships, short-lived though they were. The idea of a partner who went to bed at eight and got up at three-thirty in the morning was not nearly as fun long-term as his old girlfriends had all originally thought, but in each relationship, there had been a period in their time together that had included sleepovers. He remembered how much he missed all that as he cleaned the house before Iris's arrival on Friday afternoon following work. He'd finished the last of the candy apples for the PI Games party and baked the other Halloween cakes, plus did the assembly. Tomorrow morning, he'd do the decorating, which was undoubtedly the best part. He was looking forward to that almost as much as he was looking forward to his time with Iris and their Halloween party tomorrow night.

Another aspect of his excitement was much more hormonal. He hadn't touched himself since sex with Iris on Tuesday night. He could have asked permission, and she might have granted it, but something about waiting for her made the entire situation more exciting. He finished changing the sheets and went to put in another load of laundry, whistling as he went about his chores.

Iris knocked on his door right around six. “Wow, it smells great in here,” she said as she ventured into the living room entry and looked around, dropping her overnight bag on the floor beside her. “You didn't tell me you owned a house. This place is way too nice for you to live here alone. Are you hiding some wife I don't know about?”

Owen laughed sheepishly, pleased that Iris was impressed. “No, it's just me. Come on. Dinner's ready.” He had set the table nicely without making it look overly romantic, since he didn't want to overdo it. He also couldn't help sneaking a glance at the bag she'd been carrying, which looked too overstuffed for just a couple changes of clothes and toiletries. She might also have packed toys. He hoped she'd packed toys.

They ate the dinner Owen had prepared of simple chicken and roast potatoes, with Iris all the while raving about his food as though he'd prepared a five-course gourmet meal, which made him both amused and proud. Then she told him all about her artwork for the new game and the deal she'd been offered by her boss and the PI Games creative manager. He listened, letting her share her excitement, enjoying the way he felt being on the receiving end of her good news. In return, he talked about his Halloween orders, even whipping out a few photos to show her when she asked to see his work.

After they had cleaned up and Iris had insisted on doing dishes, Owen was just putting the last item in the fridge when he felt Iris press up against his back, her breasts soft against him, the whole warm line of her body evident against his. He caught a whiff of her perfume and his body remembered that he hadn't come since the beginning of the week, despite the frequent desire to do so, and he was suddenly erect without any other stimulus.

Iris's hands traced down his front, down the loose T-shirt he wore, down the planes of his stomach and just barely inside the edge of his waistband. Owen froze, his hand still on the handle of the closed refrigerator, not wanting to move and spoil the moment. Iris's hands dipped lower, her fingers brushing his lower stomach right above where his cock was straining upward, and he knew she could tell he was hard. Sure enough, she reached farther down, grabbed his shaft firmly, and tucked it up against his stomach so it was no longer hindered by his clothes.

“That better?” Her voice sounded mischievous as she gave him a quick stroke that made him lean on the fridge for support.

“Yes, thank you.” He felt all out of sorts with her hands on him.

“I brought you some toys I think you'll like.” She was teasing him, running her hands up and down his chest and stomach, his cock left alone again. “Do you want to see them?”

“Yes, I do.”

“I think you should call me Miss if you're going to talk to me.”

He refrained from groaning by a force of will, a sound stopping in his throat, and he closed his eyes at the rush of endorphins he felt from her commanding tone. “Yes, Miss.”

Iris stepped back, and after a moment of composing himself, Owen turned away from the fridge to face her. He'd learned to identify this look of hers. She was happy, alert, her tongue just resting against her top lip and her eyes sparkling with mirth. He could fall in love with this woman, he knew. Just one word from her and he would do anything she asked—not just sexually, although that was a given—but emotionally, too.

“You haven't given me the grand tour yet.” Iris stepped into the living room and reshouldered her bag. “How about the bedroom?”

Owen nodded and led the way down the hall. His house was small but definitely bigger than her apartment, and it felt cavernous at times with just one person living in it, whereas hers felt more cozy and lived-in. He led her into the bedroom and stood aside while her eyes took in his bed, king-sized with navy-blue sheets and a checkered comforter, typical neutral male-colored walls and carpeting, and a basic bureau with a mirror alongside it. He didn't like a television in his room, but his tablet rested on the nightstand along with a few paperback novels.

Iris nodded. “Nice.”

“Thanks.”

She set the bag down on the floor and turned to face him. “Do you want to serve me?”

He smiled. “So much.”

She returned his smile. “Good. Take off your clothes and kneel on the floor.”

14 

Iris woke with a
jolt in the middle of the night, at first completely disoriented about where she was and what had woken her. She smelled the scent of Owen and remembered, everything coming back to her. She was in his bed. They'd done a scene together where she'd tied him to the bedposts and ridden him hard until they both came, which wasn't their kinkiest night but was still enjoyable for both of them. They'd spent a little time together on the couch before he'd practically collapsed into bed and she'd continued to watch TV. When she had joined him around eleven o'clock, he'd murmured something but had been undisturbed, and she had reveled in the sensation of sharing a bed with a man whose company she truly enjoyed. Now, though, she realized that she was awake because he had gotten up and was approaching the bed.

She rubbed the back of her hand across her eyes. “Mmf, time is it?” Her voice came out slurred and sleepy.

“It's a quarter to four. I'm heading to work.” Owen leaned down to brush his lips across her forehead. “Go back to sleep. I'll be back this afternoon. Help yourself to anything in the fridge and text or call if you need anything.”

She was too tired to protest. “Mmmkay. Love you.” And she closed her eyes and dozed off again.

---

Owen stood frozen by the bed for a few moments, staring down at Iris as she began to snore lightly again. She was sleepy, and she must not have realized what she was saying. It was a normal accident when saying goodbye to someone. He'd definitely told a banker he loved him once when hanging up the phone. So he shouldn't read too much into this, even though he desperately wanted to read everything into this. If he brought it up, though, things were just going to get weird. Still, the words rang in his ears as he headed out into the night to get to work.
Love you
.

---

Iris woke up later that morning, stretching languidly and nestling deeper under Owen's fresh-smelling bedding even as she toyed with an unsettling sense that she'd forgotten something. She had vague recollections of Owen leaving that morning, kissing her on the forehead and saying goodbye, but overall she'd slept quite restfully. She didn't always sleep well at home. Owen's bed, though, with his soft sheets and his Owen smell all around her, was comforting. She didn't want to get up, but it was already after eight and she had slept more than enough. She sat up in bed and blinked around the room. He wasn't going to be home until the afternoon, so she had plenty of time to do whatever she'd like. She had his Wi-Fi password, so that probably was going to mean way too much gaming and enjoying the delicious leftovers from last night out of the fridge.

A few minutes later she stood in his living room, eating a bowl of cereal and looking at the wall of framed pictures of his family. She hadn't asked him much about his family. She knew he had several brothers and sisters and was close with them, but here on the wall was proof: pictures of all of them as children and adults, posed photos from holidays and silly candids, images of Owen playing with his nieces and nephews. He looked so natural in this position. Here was a guy who needed a stable relationship with a woman who wanted the same things he wanted. She felt a pang. What Owen most certainly did
not
need was an emotionally stunted woman from a dysfunctional family background who didn't know the first thing about being a good partner because she'd never learned how.

The only things she knew about relationships were that she'd never been part of a healthy one. This thing they were doing right now, this playing house, was only going to end up with both of them hurt. She should have known better than to try and make a shared kinkiness into something more. The rest of the cereal went down like a lump in her stomach, and she felt numb with realization as she rinsed the bowl and put it into the dishwasher. She had started to get caught up in Owen's enthusiasm for dating, lulled into complacency by their relaxing evening the night before, but she couldn't let down her guard again. No matter what she might be starting to feel for the guy, he deserved better. She'd play along, but in the end, the best thing she could do for him was secretly try to find him a better match at the kink convention next weekend.

By the time Owen came home at three, Iris had played through several levels of the new dungeon crawler game she'd bought during the latest Steam Games sale. Owen brought with him a scent of vanilla and butter, rich and sweet. In addition to the two boxes of candy apples he carried, he had his apron under his arm, balled up and covered in flour, and he looked worn down from the day. Iris felt guilty for being so lazy, still in her pajama pants and T-shirt, when he looked like he was exhausted. But his face brightened when he saw her. There was this adorable smudge of flour on his right cheek, and her hand itched to brush it off, totally at odds with her resolution to stop getting attached.

“Hi.” She smiled as he approached. He walked around behind her to look at her screen.

“Are you killing all the things that need killing?” He paused midway through bending down, inhaling deeply. “Damn, you smell really good.”

It was an odd compliment, intimate, despite all their shared intimacies, but Iris was surprised at how good it made her feel. “Thanks. You smell like cookies.”

Owen laughed, the sound rich and full. She loved hearing him laugh. “I'll take that. I was making cookies all morning in between putting the last Halloween cake together.”

“How did it turn out?” Iris set the laptop aside.

“Pretty good, I think.” Owen took his phone out and swiped through the gallery, finally showing her a gorgeous cake with elaborate Halloween-themed decorations. It looked like a haunted house on a hill, but not like one of those cheesy ones. The house looked realistic, shaped into the sharp angles and sagging eaves of the stereotypical haunted house, and she leaned in to take the phone and look closer.

“This isn't just pretty good. This is really good. Wow.” Iris handed the phone back. “You did this, huh?”

“Yup. Put the rest of it together this morning. Frosting and all.” He put the phone away. “Honestly, it's my favorite thing I've done all month. The woman who picked it up was thrilled. I hate doing decorations on the same day someone's picking up a cake, without much time to let the pieces set, but it all worked out in the end so I think we're fine.”

“Better than fine.” Iris smiled up at him.

“What time does this whole thing kick off?” He looked up at the clock. “Do I have time to take a nap?”

“Nothing starts until six. We've got time. And dinner's there, so we don't have to eat beforehand.” She waved him off. “Go nap. I'm good here.”

“Thanks.” He dropped a kiss on her hair as he headed into the bedroom. She heard the bed squeak as he settled in, and then nothing. She went back to her game.

An hour or so later, she heard some signs of life from the bedroom again. Logging off from her game, she wandered in to see Owen in his boxer briefs, going through his bureau. His hair was delightfully askew and he still looked half asleep. She felt a wave of affection for him, affection she would need to keep firmly in check—although it was accompanied by some lust that she was much more reluctant to keep in check.

“Did you have a nice nap?”

“Hmm?” He looked up, bleary eyed. “Yeah. I'm all groggy, though, and I still smell like food. I'm gonna take a shower.”

She waved him off. “Go ahead.”

When he disappeared into the bathroom, she took time to curl her hair into ringlets for her costume that night. She checked the clock, wondering if Owen would be up for a bit of fun before the party. She figured they had time. When Owen left the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist and his hair damp and curling up around his ears, Iris was naked on the bed. She took a moment to ogle him. God, he was sexy. That muscular upper body, the fine dusting of hair across his chest led to a trail down his stomach, disappearing under the towel that he held up with one hand, the grin on his face as he lingered in the doorway to survey her naked body. It all made for one heart-stopping tableau.

“Ah.” His face was mostly in shadow from the backlighting through the bathroom door, but his white teeth gleamed in the dim light. “So this is happening, then?”

“It most certainly is, if you're up to it.” Iris sat up, tossing her curls over her shoulder. “What do you say?”

“I would say I'm not being very good at serving you if I leave you here horny.” Owen let his towel fall, revealing his gloriously naked body, and stalked over to the bed. While he spoke of serving her, there was no submission in the way he took her by the calves and pulled her to the edge of the bed, parting her legs and kneeling between them before she had time to react at all.

Iris let out a little “oh!” of surprise as he manhandled her into place, looking down to catch a glimpse of the expression on his face. He was more teasing, less yielding, and she liked the combination. This look was new, but no more or less enjoyable than watching him be desperate for her. He put his hands on the inside of her thighs and pushed, making her open her legs for him, her pussy already soaking wet.

Owen leaned in to taste her, his lips moving slowly and deliberately, as if he had all the time in the world. Iris let herself fall back on the bed and enjoy, closing her eyes to revel in the sensations. He was very good at this. There was no desperation in his actions. Taking his time, he used his mouth and hands to work her up to the edge, worshipping her with an intensity that made her shiver not just from the act but from his attitude about it. He went down on her with reverence. She was breathless before she knew it, her thigh muscles beginning to tremble.

As she reached the point of no return, Owen eased off, moving to nibble at her inner thighs and leave her throbbing clit alone. After she'd regained her breath, he moved in again, returning to that bud and bringing her back to the edge with long, slow licks. Iris felt her climax approaching, stronger this time, but again Owen stopped before she could come. Fuck him. He was doing the same thing to her that she liked to do to him, edging her, but she couldn't be mad about it because the feeling was delicious. Iris lifted one leg to drape it over Owen's shoulder, giving him more access, and she could almost feel him smiling against her skin. She wasn't going to beg him. That was
totally
not their dynamic. Instead, she wanted him to take this as far as he was willing to go. The next time he brought her to the edge, he spread her lips with both hands, exposing her clit, and blew a cool stream of air over it. Iris arched up off the bed and gripped the comforter, a moan escaping her despite her resolution to remain silent.

“I want you to really enjoy this.” Owen's words were spoken directly onto her cleft, and then he began sucking her clit again. Iris knew she was starting to make noises in earnest now. As her orgasm approached, she couldn't be sure if he was going to stop or keep going, and that was almost as hot as the actual mouth on her body. Owen slipped two fingers into her pussy, all the way, rubbing her G-spot with precision. When he took his mouth away from her, he kept rubbing her there, which had the curious effect of keeping her right on the edge without letting her tumble over.

“Am I pleasing you, Miss?” Owen asked, looking up at her with a false innocent expression on his face.

Iris gritted her teeth, her muscles fluttering around his fingers but not over the edge yet, her orgasm so close she couldn't speak. Her throat felt closed off, only breath passing through in bursts.

“I want to make sure I'm pleasing you. Will you please tell me?” He licked her once, enough to make her spasm but not climax, still wearing that innocent expression.

“Fuck,
yes
,” she choked out, drumming the heel of her foot against his back. “Christ, stop it and
fuck
me already.”

Owen sat back, chuckling, and pulled a condom out of the nightstand. As he stood up, he lifted her legs from where they were hanging off the edge of the bed. He held her ankles together and raised her legs all the way up, propping both her feet up on one of his shoulders and holding them in place with one hand. Aligning himself with her hips, he stepped forward, pressing just the tip of his cock inside her. Owen kept his dick barely inside her and began rubbing her clit again, bringing her close to the edge one more time. Iris squirmed, unable to resist, her pussy twitching with denial and desperation, clenching around nothing. Before she came, he stopped rubbing and then slid all the way inside her in one fluid motion.

Iris gasped out loud, the sensation of being denied and then penetrated absolutely exquisite. Her muscles were still fluttering, the action not quite enough to bring her over the edge, and she reveled in the way the position made her feel so much tighter around him, legs held together and hips tilted back. Owen started to move, rocking his hips back and forth, careful not to slip all the way out. Her body felt primed to come, poised on the edge of the precipice, and before he'd even taken a dozen strokes she was already gasping and moving against him, hovering on the edge of her orgasm. Owen kept her like this, driving in and out in ways that were driving her absolutely crazy but not enough to get her to come.