Iris

~Chapter One~

     I am curled up close upon the crackling, recalescent fire that be ablaze in the inglenook. I watch as ashes crumble and fall from the wood that lie in the fireplace, and burns out. The fire stand aglow in my icy, grey orbs. I search my pile of mail for any letters of importance, and after finding nil a memorandum, I let fly all papers at once into the scorching wings of oranges and crimsons. The stationary curls and twirls under heat, and what was once loopy, corkscrew writings, is now ash and dust in the fireplace.

     I bear on my cathendra, and lay my arms to rest at my sides. I cockle my lips as a summery palm is fixated on my shoulder. I burn holes in the wall in front of me, as I do not wish to speak with him.

     "Come, Angel," he breathes below my ear, into my hair. I adjust my neck, giving him room to wheedle me with his gelatinous lips. I whimper under him heated breath, contributing cold shivers far and wide of my skin. I fancied his taction, exceedingly. I desired his flesh to mine, but I dis-tasted his chat, for I was in no mood for one of his half-witted talk fests.

     A hand slid my silk kimono off of my shoulder, and hawkish lips were skidding down my arms. I tried to hinder from moaning at his touch, but I couldn't help but let the soft vibration slip away from my mouth, in pure gratification. As he always does, he was conquering me, once again.

     He glissades my kimono off of my other shoulder, and I am in my lace lingerie. He seems charmed with my frame, and his eyes trail my body, waiting for my next advance. I slowly approach his silhouette, which was vaguely lit aglow by the embers still left kindled in the inglenook. I lace my fingers together behind his neck, and he picks me up, carrying me to the chaise.

     He lay me down, and I help him take off his polo. His perfectly sculpted abs flex as he tosses it to the floor made up of wood. He rests a palm beside my head, and begins to leave kisses on my collarbone, marking every inch of my chest with his pink, heart shaped lips. I whimper below him, and I can feel him smirking as he grazes my torso. His hands go beneath me to take off my brassiere, and I reluctantly lift myself to help with ease. I can feel and hear the clasp being undone, and he chucks it to the floor, where his shirt lies. I blush, and cover myself, but he tenderly takes my hands in his and pushes them to my sides. I am bare, and a shiver runs through me, goose bumps rising on my skin. He kisses them away once more.

     He begins to remove my panties, but as he moves his hands to my hips, there is a knock on the heavy, french doors. "I'm taken at the moment," he yells above me. Yet, another knock. He sighs, prior to picking his shirt up off the boards, and chucking it back on.

     "We'll continue this later," he gnarrs under his breath.

     I am not only afraid for myself once he returns, but for the poor man who dared beat on the door of a bedchamber belonging to one of a short temper.