He smirked and stroked his chin. “Is that your way of digging into who I’ve brought here before, my habits?”
“Maybe.”
“Trust me, vixen, you’re the one I’m on a date with now. You’re the only one I want to be with. So if you’re asking if I’ve been to the Pearl Brasserie, then of course I have. If you’re trying to ask me if I’d rather be with someone else, then you don’t need to bother. Do you have anything else to ask?”
I licked my lips and fanned myself with one hand a little. It was a chilly night in Dublin, and I’d felt the air conditioning when I’d first slipped into the car, but I wasn’t feeling it now. No. It was scorching where I was, that heat from my belly filtering out to my limbs and fingertips. My heart was pounding rapidly in my chest. I knew what I wanted.
Had deep down since I’d seen him slip out of the limo and watched the way the suit hung on him.
Taking a deep breath, I scooted across the seat before straddling his lap. Just as I’d thought, he was already
hard and waiting for me. This wasn’t like me, but nothing was now. If I only had a night or a week or however long with him, then when I was with Callum, I was going to be Iris Kilshimer, version 2.0. I was going to be the girl he was usually with, offer him the things I could.
It would be that great college story, wouldn’t it?
And I was definitely scheduled to live a life locked into rules, order, and expectations.
He eyed me and curled one side of his lip up appreciatively, it seemed. “Are you the one looking to skip dinner now, vixen?”
I shuddered a little and felt my core tighten at his words. I wasn’t a vixen, but I could pretend to be, could keep him happy as long as I tried. It was flattering, though, that he thought I was one.
My voice was a husky rasp when I spoke. I wasn’t even sure if I was faking it or that was what he did to me. Maybe it didn’t matter. Reaching down, I stroked the hardness of his erection through the fabric of his pants. It seemed to jump against my touch. Warm and solid under my grip, it felt like steel in my grasp. Leaning closer, I kissed his throat, letting my tongue trail over his chin, my teeth scrape delicately against the scruff of his jaw. Flicking my tongue out, I tasted the dimple in his chin.
I’d been fantasizing about that since I’d first seen him.
He tasted of salt and sweat, of his strength and his musk. I lapped at it again and then moved over to his earlobe, even as my hand pumped up and down over his hardness. Grabbing his earlobe between my teeth, I flicked my tongue against the skin there. He let out a harsh breath and, for the first time, I realized the power I held.
Me, Iris.
I could bring a man to his brink, could turn him on. It made me feel potent, made me feel like a woman for the first time in my life.
He let out a small gasp and then spoke. “Luv, you’re killing me here.”
I massaged his shaft, working my hand over it with as much delicate grace as I could through the fabric. “Am I?”
I batted my eyelashes at him, playing coy. Oh yes. I knew exactly what I was doing for him. Continuing my efforts, I rubbed his length with a faster rhythm while I pulled on his earlobe. He shuddered underneath me, and I raised my head. Staring down into those ice blue eyes, I didn’t dare to look away.
He stared at me, and his gaze was punishing, wild. I had a lion in my grasp, and I was the lion tamer. I wasn’t sure exactly what hold I had on him or how long my power would last, but I wasn’t going to give it up. Not right now. I could be Iris the sex goddess, at least for a while.
I could be the woman he was clearly looking at.
Who knew?
Maybe if I played the role long enough, I’d become her.
“You shouldn’t play with me for too long. I might pop there, vixen.”
I shifted my hand so that I was cupping his balls through his pants. I rubbed them between my thumb and forefinger and grinned up at him, like a cat who’d drunk through all the cream. He moaned a little, although he didn’t lose control. I wanted him to, wanted to have him be as tempted to scream as I’d been earlier in his office.
Then again, I doubted Mr. Callum O’Brien, the master of Dublin and basically most of Irish real estate, ever lost control.
But that was quite the challenge; maybe I could make it happen.
“Can’t you just rein it in?” I said, my voice taking on a breathy, faux-innocent quality.
“I can’t rein anything in with you, luv.”
Just like that, he switched our positions. I was the one sitting on the bench seat, and he was the one hovering over me, his hips not touching mine. I reached out for his member, desperate to touch him again even with the cloth between us. Hell, even better, I had my hand on his zipper. He pulled back and then kissed my mouth punishingly.