“Iris, I just need to feel good.”
He bent toward her again, but she held him off, even as his words made her heart ache. “I don’t know if that’s a good answer.”
“It’s not,” he sighed. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” He kissed her forehead and took a step away. “Tonight was great. I’m gonna take off.”
Deciding right then that his answer was good enough, that it was honest and real, and, for that, it could not be better, and that she really, really wanted to kiss him, Iris grabbed his arm before he had turned fully away.
He reversed his course and faced her again, and she pulled on his arm, drawing him closer. She smiled.
“Happy New Year, Nolan.” She rose up on her toes and kissed him the way he’d kissed her in the clubhouse—chaste and sweet. Then she came back down onto her feet.
The blue of his eyes was even darker than usual and stormy with turmoil. “Iris…” he nearly moaned.
She caught a handful of his flannel shirt and pulled, bringing him yet closer. And that was all she needed to do. His hands went to her hips and slid around until his arms were locked around her waist, and then his mouth was on hers—and no kiss they’d had yet had been anything like this one.
Everything about it was desperate. His tongue filled her mouth, searching, and his growing beard dug at and stung her cheeks. He crushed her in his arms, his hands clutching at her, his fingers digging into her ass, her sides. His breath came loud and heavy, each exhale a groan. And his leg slid between hers, pushing until she was straddled over his thigh.
Not expecting to see Nolan tonight, she’d dressed for the kids’ party she was hosting. She was wearing only yoga pants, with no underwear, and a giant hoodie from college, with nothing under it but a sport bra. She had no makeup on. She hadn’t done her hair. Yet Nolan’s obvious, primitive need for her made her feel sexier than she ever had before.
She was also getting wet, really wet, so wet she could feel the trickle of it, and there was nothing between her and Nolan’s jeaned leg but some flimsy Lycra. She might have been embarrassed about that, except that she could also feel how hard he was—and he was thrusting against her, shoving his thigh harder and harder, and he was groaning like an animal, and he’d torn his mouth from hers and was sucking on her neck, and his hands had slid into her pants, and he had ahold of her bare ass, and now one hand had moved under her sweatshirt, under her bra, and…
And there were ten children sleeping in the living room, right up the hall.
“Nolan,” she gasped, trying to recover her sense and her voice. When he hadn’t seemed to hear her, when, instead, his hand pushed her bra over her breast and took hold of her nipple, making her arch into him and grow even wetter, she pushed on his shoulder and tried again. “Nolan. Nolan. Nolan!”
She finally got through to him, and he stopped. He didn’t move away; he simply froze, with one hand holding her ass, his fingers tantalizingly close to her wet core, and with the other hand on her breast. His face was still pressed to her throat. His breath chugged like a locomotive. But he had stopped.
“The house is full of kids,” she reminded him.
It took another second or two for that to get through, and then he sighed heavily and dropped his forehead to her shoulder. “Fuck.”
His hands hadn’t moved yet, and Iris very much needed his fingers away from all her sensitive parts, or she was going to lose her resolve not to traumatize the children with a live porn show, so she pushed on his arm until he regained his senses completely and stood up and stepped back.
He brushed his fingertips lightly across her lips. “I should go.”
“Stay. It’s so late. Just crash in the living room with all of us. I’m going to make waffles for breakfast later.”
The smile he gave her was the
He bent toward her again, but she held him off, even as his words made her heart ache. “I don’t know if that’s a good answer.”
“It’s not,” he sighed. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” He kissed her forehead and took a step away. “Tonight was great. I’m gonna take off.”
Deciding right then that his answer was good enough, that it was honest and real, and, for that, it could not be better, and that she really, really wanted to kiss him, Iris grabbed his arm before he had turned fully away.
He reversed his course and faced her again, and she pulled on his arm, drawing him closer. She smiled.
“Happy New Year, Nolan.” She rose up on her toes and kissed him the way he’d kissed her in the clubhouse—chaste and sweet. Then she came back down onto her feet.
The blue of his eyes was even darker than usual and stormy with turmoil. “Iris…” he nearly moaned.
She caught a handful of his flannel shirt and pulled, bringing him yet closer. And that was all she needed to do. His hands went to her hips and slid around until his arms were locked around her waist, and then his mouth was on hers—and no kiss they’d had yet had been anything like this one.
Everything about it was desperate. His tongue filled her mouth, searching, and his growing beard dug at and stung her cheeks. He crushed her in his arms, his hands clutching at her, his fingers digging into her ass, her sides. His breath came loud and heavy, each exhale a groan. And his leg slid between hers, pushing until she was straddled over his thigh.
Not expecting to see Nolan tonight, she’d dressed for the kids’ party she was hosting. She was wearing only yoga pants, with no underwear, and a giant hoodie from college, with nothing under it but a sport bra. She had no makeup on. She hadn’t done her hair. Yet Nolan’s obvious, primitive need for her made her feel sexier than she ever had before.
She was also getting wet, really wet, so wet she could feel the trickle of it, and there was nothing between her and Nolan’s jeaned leg but some flimsy Lycra. She might have been embarrassed about that, except that she could also feel how hard he was—and he was thrusting against her, shoving his thigh harder and harder, and he was groaning like an animal, and he’d torn his mouth from hers and was sucking on her neck, and his hands had slid into her pants, and he had ahold of her bare ass, and now one hand had moved under her sweatshirt, under her bra, and…
And there were ten children sleeping in the living room, right up the hall.
“Nolan,” she gasped, trying to recover her sense and her voice. When he hadn’t seemed to hear her, when, instead, his hand pushed her bra over her breast and took hold of her nipple, making her arch into him and grow even wetter, she pushed on his shoulder and tried again. “Nolan. Nolan. Nolan!”
She finally got through to him, and he stopped. He didn’t move away; he simply froze, with one hand holding her ass, his fingers tantalizingly close to her wet core, and with the other hand on her breast. His face was still pressed to her throat. His breath chugged like a locomotive. But he had stopped.
“The house is full of kids,” she reminded him.
It took another second or two for that to get through, and then he sighed heavily and dropped his forehead to her shoulder. “Fuck.”
His hands hadn’t moved yet, and Iris very much needed his fingers away from all her sensitive parts, or she was going to lose her resolve not to traumatize the children with a live porn show, so she pushed on his arm until he regained his senses completely and stood up and stepped back.
He brushed his fingertips lightly across her lips. “I should go.”
“Stay. It’s so late. Just crash in the living room with all of us. I’m going to make waffles for breakfast later.”
The smile he gave her was the
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