𝐌𝐘 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐍.

𝐅𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐘 𝐒𝐈𝐗.

⌖ YES! YES! YES! | O56. ‹ ⚜ ›
❝ tell me my nickname iris. ❞

5:OO A.M. ᐟ

EXTENDED ...

"I swear, Jasiah—my pussy can't take no more." Iris pleaded, her voice a blend of laughter & exhaustion as she climbed the staircase. She tossed a look over her shoulder, hoping to catch some mercy in his expression but he was locked in, eyes still heavy with lust & unmoved by her pleads.

"That's why I'm about to put an ice pack on it." He shrugged, popping an ice cube in his mouth like a piece of candy. "Ain't no problem." He said casually, taking another step behind her. "Do I smell bitch?" He asked, almost playfully. "You started this shit. You initiated sex every time. Have you not?"

"Yes, but—"

"Okay then." He cut her off like a closing door, uninterested in whatever came after that "yes." "You gotta lay in the beds you make shawty. So walk the fuck faster."

She hesitated, fingers curling around the railing, & she reached for another excuse. "But...Asiah's in there. He's sleeping."

Jasiah stopped mid step, pausing as that reality clicked. The crib had been moved into their bedroom earlier yesterday. For a second, it looked like she might've won. But then he smirked.

Before she could blink, his arm slid around the back of her thighs, lifting her clean off the stairs like she weighed nothing to him. "Oh my God, Jasiah!" She squealed as he hoisted her over his shoulder, carrying her back down the stairs like she was a some championship belt.

It wasn't that Iris didn't want him. Never that. Her body ached for him even in its fatigue. But she was spent—drilled hard into the sand, bent & folded, his mouth had dragged orgasms from her like confessions on the counter, & now every part of her pulsed with overstimulation. Her legs were still numb. She needed a moment to breathe, to recover. But Jasiah was only offering her a change of scenery.

His eyes flicked over to the long sectional couch as he descended down. For a second, he considered it. Bending her over the soft grey cushions, her legs shaking while he toyed with her using nothing but his mouth & ice. But then he scoffed under his breath. Too basic. Too boring. That basic couch wasn't worthy of the kind of memory he was trying to make.

He wanted to take her somewhere he knew she would run & tell her homegirls about while they listened with their jaws to the floor.

His gaze swept the room—table? No. Kitchen counter? Just did that. Nothing stood out. Nothing screamed wild enough. His jaw flexed, disappointed.

If they were back home...

His mind drifted to that one room, the one they hadn't stepped foot in for some time. It was practically abandoned now.