Chapter 187
Iris
“Do you want some wine?” I ask, locking the door behind us. The apartment is quiet, just the soft hum of the refrigerator and Miles‘ nightlight spilling into the hallway from his partially open bedroom door. Emi was waiting for us when we arrived, and quickly left once she saw Arthur enter behind me. I appreciate the way she gives me privacy without even having to ask.
Arthur shrugs out of his jacket. “Sure. Whatever you’re having.”
I pad to the kitchen, barefoot now after kicking off my heels at the door. I can feel Arthur’s eyes on me as I reach for two glasses
from the cabinet and fill them with red wine.
We settle on the couch with our drinks, so close our bodies touch. Arthur’s arm extends along the back of the sofa, his fingertips just brushing my shoulder. I curl my legs up under my body, and the way his eyes flit to my thighs squeezed beneath my black mini skirt isn’t lost on me.
But I’m looking, too. Unabashedly, might I add.
The warm light from the table lamp catches his profile, highlighting the strong line of his jaw, the curve of his lips. He removed his sweater at some point, revealing a crisp white t–shirt tucked into his black trousers. The shirt perfectly hugs his muscular
frame, biceps straining against the sleeves.
Something stirs in me as I look at him–not just desire, but inspiration.
“Don’t move,” I say suddenly, setting down my wine glass.
Arthur freezes, eyebrows raised. “What?”
“Just… stay exactly like that.” I grab my sketchbook from the coffee table and a pencil from the end table drawer. “The light is perfect.”
Understanding dawns in his eyes, and he settles back into position, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “You want to draw me? Again?”
I nod, and for several minutes, there’s only the soft scratch of pencil on paper. I work quickly, wanting to capture this moment before it slips away, although it’s not easy to focus when he looks so damn good, both in person and on paper.
My voice grows husky as I cheekily suggest, “Remove your shirt.‘
Arthur’s eyes widen.
“Anatomy practice,” I say, although we both know it’s more than that.
Arthur holds my gaze as he reaches for the hem of his shirt, pulling it up and over his head in one fluid motion. My breath catches
at the sight of his bare chest–familiar territory, yet somehow new again.
Five years have only enhanced his physique, adding definition to his already impressive muscles. I don’t know how he finds the time to work out with his busy schedule, not that I’m complaining.
My pencil moves more hesitantly now, tracing the broad expanse of his shoulders, the contours of his chest, the ridges of his
abdomen. I’m acutely aware of the shift in the air between us, the shift that I created.
After a few more minutes of sketching, Arthur rises from his spot and moves behind me, looking over my shoulder at the drawing. His bare chest presses against my back, his warmth seeping through my thin blouse. I bite my lip, a familiar heat forming between my thighs.
“What do you think?” I ask, cringing at how small my voice sounds.
“Beautiful.”
I turn my head to look at him, and our faces are inches apart. He’s not referring to the sketch; he’s talking about me. There’s a moment of suspended time, and then his lips are on mine. My sketchbook falls forgotten to the floor as I turn fully and come to a kneeling position on the sofa.
Arthur’s hands slide down to my hips, lifting me easily up and over the back of the sofa. I wrap my legs around his waist as he
carries me toward the bedroom. He kicks the door closed behind us with his foot, then gently lowers me onto the bed.
Moonlight streams through the partly opened curtains, casting silver across the rumpled bedding. Arthur positions himself over me, his eyes dark with need. I don’t hesitate to pull him down to me, capturing his mouth again, and his low groan of pleasure
rumbles through my throat.
My fingers tangle in his hair, holding him close as our tongues slide against each other. I can feel his hardness pressing against
me through our clothes, and I arch up instinctively, seeking more contact.
Arthur groans again, louder this time, but then remembers our sleeping child down the hall and muffles the sound against my
neck. His lips trail down my throat, nipping and sucking gently at the sensitive skin there. I bite my lip to stay quiet.
“Too many clothes,” I whisper, tugging at the buttons of my blouse.
Arthur takes over, his fingers deftly unfastening each button before sliding the fabric from my shoulders. His eyes darken further
at the sight of my lace bra, black against my pale skin.
“You’re even more beautiful than I remembered,” he murmurs, bending to press a kiss to the swell of my breast just above the
lace.
I reach behind me to unhook my bra, letting it fall away. Arthur’s hands immediately cup my breasts, thumbs grazing over my
nipples until they harden into tight peaks. He lowers his head, taking one sensitive bud into his mouth, and I have to stifle
another moan.
I work at his belt, then the button and zipper of his pants. I push them down his hips along with his boxer briefs, freeing his
erection. My fingers wrap around his familiar length, stroking slowly. I almost forgot how considerable his member is. Almost.
But not quite.
Chapter 188
“I want to taste you,” I whisper, pushing him gently onto his back.
Arthur’s eyes fly open, watching as I move down his body, placing open–mouthed kisses along his chest and stomach. When I take him into my mouth, his hand flies to my hair, fingers tangling in the strands.
I remember what he likes–the swirl of my tongue, the suction, the right amount of pressure. His breathing grows ragged as I work him, slow at first then faster, deeper, until he hits the back of my throat. When his hips start to buck involuntarily, I pull back, not wanting things to end too soon.
Arthur wastes no time flipping our positions, pinning me beneath him. He kisses his way down my body, lingering at my breasts before continuing lower.
When he reaches the apex of my thighs, the first touch of his tongue has me grabbing my pillow and thrusting it over my face to muffle my cry.
Just as I knew him, he knows exactly how much pressure to use, where to focus his attention, when to slide his fingers inside of me. I’m writhing beneath him in minutes, my hand fisted in the sheets.
Just as I’m about to break, he pulls back, crawling up my body to kiss me deeply. I can taste myself on his lips.
He positions himself between my thighs, the tip of him teasing my entrance. Then, our eyes lock as he pushes forward slowly, filling me inch by inch until he’s fully seated inside of me. We both freeze for a moment, gasping at the familiar sensation of our bodies locking together.
I begin to rock my hips, and Arthur groans softly, matching my movements. My legs wrap around his waist, drawing him deeper.
After a few minutes, Arthur sits back on his heels, pulling me up to straddle his lap. In this position, he hits a spot inside me that makes my head fall back in pleasure, the same position he’s made me come in hundreds–no, maybe even thousands–of times before. His mouth finds my nipple again, sucking gently as I begin to ride him.
My fingers dig into his shoulders as we move together, our bodies finding that perfect rhythm we once knew so well. His hands guide my hips, setting a pace that soon has us both breathing heavily, fighting to keep quiet.
“I’ve missed you,” Arthur whispers against my throat. “Missed this. Missed us.”
“Me too,” I gasp, feeling the tension building low in my belly. I know it’s only minutes before I’ll reach the edge, a sensation that I’ve never been able to replicate properly without him. “So much.”
Our movements grow more urgent, the need for release driving us faster, harder. Arthur’s hand slips between us, his thumb finding my clit and circling it in time with our thrusts.
“Come for me, Iris,” he murmurs, pressing his forehead to mine. “I want to feel you tighten around my cock while you come.”
His words push me over the edge. My climax is intense and earth–shattering, and I have to bury my face in Arthur’s neck to
muffle my cries. As my pussy clenches around him, Arthur follows me over, making no effort to hide one last low growl as he pulses inside of me.
And in that moment, something strange happens. A sensation unlike anything I’ve ever felt before washes over me—a surge of
raw, primal energy that seems to flow from Arthur into me, from me back into him, creating a circuit of power between us. It’s
like our souls are touching, twining together in ways that transcend the physical.
The feeling is so intense it’s almost frightening. Like being struck by lightning, and somehow, I feel an intense need to bite.
And I do. My lips close around his neck, biting down so hard that I hear him hiss with pain and surprise and even pleasure. When I
pull back, I haven’t drawn blood, but there’s a distinct bite mark from my canines on his neck.
“Sorry,” I mutter, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “I don’t know what came over me.”
Arthur is smirking, but there’s a meaningful look in his eyes that makes my breath catch. Could it be…? My mind flickers back to the DNA test, to all of the other strange things that have caught my attention lately.
But the sensation quickly ebbs away, my mind too tired to draw connections right now. If Arthur had the same thoughts, then he
doesn’t mention them.
We stay like that for long moments, still joined, heartbeats gradually slowing. Eventually, Arthur lays me down gently on the bed, pulling out of me. My legs tremble, hardly holding me upright as I make my way to the bathroom.
After, we slide into bed together in nothing but our underwear. I curl against him instinctively, my head finding that perfect spot on his chest, my arm draped across his abdomen. His fingers trace lazy patterns on my bare shoulder, each movement drawing me closer to the deepest relaxation I’ve felt in five long years.
The last thing I’m aware of before sleep claims me is the steady beat of Arthur’s heart beneath my ear, and the profound happiness coursing through my veins.
