Young, Allyson - Absolute Perfection [Aspire 3] (Siren Publishing Classic) (8 page)

“No. Please, Georgios. I want to touch you.”

His cock, already engorged as morning wood, filled even more and tented the sheets. Her gaze left his to drop to the evidence of his arousal, and she smiled at him sweetly. George dropped his arms to his sides, and she pulled the sheet away, little by little, dragging against his erection. He bit back a groan. She ran her hands over his chest and abdomen before moving lower, skirting his cock to stroke his thighs.

“Do not tease me, wench.”

“Ah, but we aren’t in the club now, Georgios. And surely you don’t want to dominate me all the time?”

He fixed her with a dominant stare, but she looked back at him, serene and confident. He couldn’t deny her.

“All right, sweet one, but you can expect me to remember this.
I
am in charge in the bedroom.”

She laughed. “Threats, sir?”

Before he could come up with a suitable response, she straddled his hips and began to lick him, starting at his throat, nuzzling and nipping him intermittently. Georgios tried hard not to flinch away and willed his cock under control. The silk of her thighs and damp heat of her core as she slid down his body made him groan, and he willingly gave voice to it. He wouldn’t hide from Iris. He suffered the increasing arousal with as much grace as he could muster as she worked her way down to his cock, making little throaty sounds of satisfaction. He wasn’t prepared for the hot liquid of her mouth as she engulfed him and involuntarily lifted his hips to shove to the back of her throat. She met him thrust for thrust and her cheeks hollowed with her efforts, her tongue making sneaky little forays against the underside and the V at the head. George bit the inside of his cheek to hold off his orgasm. He wanted to spill himself inside of her and reached blindly to the bedside table to snatch up the condom he’d placed there the night before. He wrapped his other hand in her hair and pulled her off his greedy cock, nearly throwing her onto her back. He smiled at her startled shriek as she came to rest with her legs sprawled and her nice little pussy bared to his gaze. He was too far gone to taste her, and his hands trembled in his haste to sheath himself.

Then he was on her, weighing her down, holding her immobile with his superior strength. He stared down in her eyes and notched his cock at her wet opening. He pushed inside slowly, an inch at a time, watching her face as she accepted him. When he was seated as deeply as he could go, she smiled at him and reached up to stroke his cheek. The gentle touch nearly undid him, and he twisted his head to press a kiss onto the palm of her hand.

“Fuck me, Georgios. I need you so badly.”

They moved together in the age-old rhythm of couples from the beginning of time, except this was
their
beginning. Their bodies slipped and slid against one another, making succulent noises. Georgios concentrated on the textures and sensations of her tight channel as he worked his straining cock hard inside of her. He swiveled his hips to find her G-spot, and the ensuing rush of fluid nearly scalded him through the latex he wore. Her face became taut, and she gasped for air, her sheath trembling around him. He couldn’t last and reached between them to find and pinch her clit. She called his name just as he’d fantasized, and he followed her into release. His accompanying moan filled the room.

George pulled her along with him as he maneuvered to her side and they caught their breath. He could feel his own heartbeat in his temples and knew Iris’s was hammering away in her chest, the pulse in her throat fluttering madly. When he had enough energy, he kissed her, and she responded sweetly. He loved this woman. There, he’d said it. Now he needed to take the risk and say it out loud, to her. Soon.

Iris wiggled from his arms, and his drained cock slipped from her to lie despondent against his thigh. She headed straight into the attached bathroom, and George realized she’d already found it earlier while he slept. He stretched before grabbing a tissue to dispose of the condom. He hesitated as his hand encountered an unusual amount of wetness. Shit. The latex had failed.

George found he wasn’t at all bothered by the idea of Iris growing round with his child. He never thought about children before, certainly not with Jane, but he could see Iris as the mother of his kids. She might not think along the same lines about being pregnant, however, and he straightened his shoulders as he faced that fact. He made his way into the bathroom to tell her about the faulty condom, only to forget about that issue when confronted by the sight of Iris in his large, glassed-in shower stall. She looked like a slender Venus rising from the sea, a nearly perfect rendition of the painting in his parents’ home. Her hair flowed like dark, golden syrup down her back as she turned her face into the spray. She was all slender lines, like a cheetah, long, lean legs and those small, high breasts with their perky nipples. It made the bounty of her round ass all the more wondrous. George felt his cock fill again. Perhaps he could have her in the shower before telling her the news. It might make hearing it less upsetting.

He strode to the vanity and grabbed and opened another condom, first holding it up to the light to examine it for any flaws, then rolled it on over his anxious cock. He pulled the shower door open just enough to slip inside and fit himself against her back, smiling as she jumped at the contact. He reached up to cup her breasts and pinch the nipples.

“No, Georgios. You can’t mean for us to do it again!” Iris wiggled her buttocks against his erection even as she protested.

“Ah, but I do, sweet one.”

He walked her toward the wall under the showerhead where a little lip of tile would put her at just the right height. She stepped up, and her hands flattened against the tile to support herself. George pulled her hips back toward him and pushed into her slick, welcoming heat, the water streaming down around them, cocooning them in its warmth. He powered in and out, his belly slapping against her buttocks. She was tighter in this position, and he thrust harder, reaching to put an arm around her belly to support her back. As his spine heated and his balls boiled, he found her little clit and rubbed hard. She climaxed and raised high on her toes, forcing his cock to drag forward and give up its seed as her snug pussy milked him hard.

He relished the sensation before pulling out. He stepped back and saw her shoulders heaving. His gut clenched. He’d hurt her! “God, sweet one. I’m sorry. I just needed you. Again. I didn’t mean to hurt you!”

She turned into his arms, and behind the droplets of water on her face, he saw unbridled glee. “You didn’t hurt me, Georgios. But enough already.” She laughed again, this time not silently. “You’re like a randy teenager.”

George puffed out his chest and glared at her before giving in and smiling back. “Only with you, sweet one.”

They took turns washing one another once he removed the condom, and he decided to tell her of the failure of the other one at breakfast rather than spoil the moment. He loved the feel of her silky skin under his callused hands as he soaped and rinsed every inch of her, as well as the way her long tresses slipped between his fingers like pulled taffy. She moaned when he rubbed her scalp with his fingertips, and the sound reminded him of how she responded to discipline. When she tenderly cleansed him, his cock made a valiant attempt to rise to the occasion, and they both chuckled at the failed effort. George had never felt so content or secure in his manhood.

Chapter Six

Iris pulled her silk dress over her head and smoothed it down over her hips. Her panties were on the dresser, and she yanked them on in relief. She didn’t feel secure without underwear and was relieved George understood and accepted that particular limit. She stepped into her shoes and gathered up her little bag and her wrap, heading down the hall toward the unmistakable sounds of George working in the kitchen. He might expect her submission sexually, but there was no indication he wanted her to serve him in all aspects. The wonderful smell of bacon permeated the air, and she could hear dishes clattering. She hoped he had coffee ready. The sight of a grand piano had her steps slowing, and she veered in that direction. She hadn’t taken note of the house’s contents the night before, being in some kind of exhausted stupor brought on by more orgasms that any one woman should entertain in an evening.

The piano was tucked in an alcove of the large living room, or tucked as much as such a large, imposing instrument could be. This part of the room was likely a dining area but had been pressed into service as a music room. Iris used to play piano, but her constant traveling didn’t lend itself to having one, and she was instantly intrigued. She crossed to the keyboard, setting her purse and shawl on the bench, and was reaching to drift her fingers over the ivories when she saw it, lying flat on the polished surface. It was a wedding picture. She swivelled her head to scan the room and realized the space was austere. There were no pictures anywhere, no knickknacks, nothing to soften the place and make it a home. George’s bedroom was similar when she thought about it. His bed was huge and comfortable and the bathroom well appointed, but again there were no pictures or ornaments. Iris might have noticed more if she hadn’t been either asleep or being screwed senseless. She supposed his wife had taken everything like that with her, although she’d found the big walk-in closet first while looking for the bathroom earlier. A corner of it was jammed full of boxes and women’s clothing, piled willy-nilly and obviously forgotten if one considered the disregard for the high-end items. She had carefully closed the door on the sight. Nothing would possess her to borrow even a nightgown from that stash. She wondered why Georgios hadn’t bothered to get rid of them and hoped it wasn’t that he couldn’t bear to handle the items because of the memories.

She carefully picked up the picture and focused on the couple frozen in time within its frame. Her breath caught in her chest. Georgios’s handsome face looked back at her, solemn and forbidding somehow, but it was the tall, slender woman in the tight, sheath style wedding gown who took her attention. It was like looking in a mirror. The hair was hers, all different shades of blonde, worn long and swept back to drift behind the bride’s shoulders. The blue eyes might be set a little wider apart than her own, but the short nose over the full upper lip and the heavier bottom one was hers. The smile was cool and composed, and Iris didn’t suppose she often looked like that, but who knew? Put her in that dress and add the pearl necklace and drop earrings and a person would never really tell the difference. So this was Georgios’s deceased wife Jane, and he’d found her replacement.

Iris’s stomach roiled, and she thought she might vomit. A cold sweat broke out over her entire body, and she began to tremble in shock. How could he? Did he think she’d never find out? That someone wouldn’t tell her? She reached out to grasp the rolled edge of the piano for support but missed, and her hand crashed down upon the keys, creating a discordant sound that echoed her thoughts. She couldn’t catch a full breath.

“Iris?”

She turned to face Georgios who’d probably come in response to the sound. He wore a casual cotton shirt in sage green, loose over his jeans, his feet bare. He held a spatula in his hand. Iris had the wild thought he would spank her with it when he divined her thoughts, and a bolt of pain through her heart made her gasp and then throw back her shoulders in a hollow act of defiance.

“I see I’m a dead ringer for your wife. Oh, forgive my terminology. That was callous of me.” The venomous words spilled from her lips in an effort to stave off the horrific sense of betrayal, and worse, loss.

She had the momentary satisfaction of seeing his face pale, and then he was coming to her. She retreated until the piano stopped her backward motion. Georgios pried the picture frame from her grasp, his gentle actions belying the look on his face.

“Come and talk with me, sweet one.”

She shoved at him and used the surprising action to slip around his big body and walk quickly to the front door.

“Iris. You need to listen to me.” Georgios’s tone expected obedience.

She laughed, and the ugly sound ripped at her throat. He flinched, and she threw out a hand, gesturing toward the picture. “I doubt there’s anything you can say to explain
that
, Georgios. It’s been quite the experience, but I’m not a stand in. I want the real thing, not the leavings of a ghost. You lied to me! You just wanted her back!”

“I didn’t lie to you, Iris,” he gritted.

“You did. Maybe by omission, but you did. And those people in the club, that Casey, they all knew. The way they looked at me! And I thought it was because I was yours. Well, I guess I was, Jane reborn.” She heard her voice climbing into hysteria and struggled against it.

“I won’t tolerate—”

She cut him off. “Leave me alone, Georgios. Alone.”

She sobbed, and he tossed the spatula and the picture onto the piano and stalked toward her, his face bleak but determined. She was desperate. She couldn’t let him touch her or she’d be lost. She screamed it at him. “Chocolate! Chocolate!”

It sounded insane, but he halted in his tracks and looked astonished. She threw the door open and winced at the sound of the alarm before running through the opening and down the steps, out onto the driveway. She stumbled toward the street, the tears blurring her vision when his hard hand closed around her upper arm and hauled her back.

“Don’t be foolish, Iris. If you won’t listen, well, I won’t let you come to harm.”

He nearly dragged her back toward the house, ignoring her protests and her ineffectual slaps and shoves. He opened the door of the car and pushed her inside, securing the seat belt. Iris slumped back and tried to calm down, but the tears just wouldn’t stop. George vanished for a moment but then returned. He climbed into the driver’s side and set her little bag and wrap on her lap. Within moments they were rolling toward the city.