Iris (Mike Bravo Ops 1)

Chapter Twenty-One

Iris

Being inside Saint is indescribable. It’s something I’d say everyone should try if I didn’t want to keep him all to myself.

His face is so expressive. His grunts, his moans, and the way his voice goes an octave lower when he talks, it’s all a sensory experience I’ve never had with anyone before.

The sensation around my cock as I thrust in and out of him has got nothing on the feel of his breaths on my skin. It sends ripples down my body.

I could do this all night, but Saint looks like he’s going to lose it if he doesn’t get to come soon.

That’s when I reach between us and take his cock in my hand. I stroke him hard and fast and increase my thrusts.

His ass pulses around my dick, and he’s so fucking tight.

I’ve begun to sweat, but it’s hard to tell because we’re both still wet from the shower. Heat pools in my gut, and my balls draw up tight.

Saint has suddenly gone quiet, but his chest rises and falls rapidly, and I get the impression he can’t talk anymore.

He’s close to the edge, and I want to push him over it before I beat him to the trigger.

I lower my head, resting it next to his. His hips are angled upward, and I’m on my knees so I can push into him over and over again.

I suck on his earlobe, and he lets out another one of those desperate sounds.

“Come. I need you to come.”

Every single muscle beneath me tightens as his body goes stiff. He trembles and convulses, and I hold him close.

“I’ve got you,” I say. “Let go.”

“Keep fucking me. I want you to come inside me.”

I straighten up again, and Saint’s face contorts while thick ropes of cum hit his abs.

It only takes a few more thrusts for me to join him. I release inside his body and ride the wave of pleasure until I don’t have any more in me.

His ass wrings me out, and his big arms come around me and pull me close. I stretch out on top of him, and he winces as my cock leaves him empty.

We’re a pile of entwined limbs while we both crash from our high, but I eventually roll onto my back, still heaving and gasping to catch my breath.

“Why do I feel like that deserves a round of applause?” I ask. “That’s what’s always missing with sex—a live audience.”

“Of course you’d want a live audience.”

“I like being praised, what can I say.”

Saint rolls on his side. “Awesome sex. Good job, buddy.”

“Ugh. Actual praise. Not condescension.”

Saint leans over and kisses me softly. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For not making it weird. I wasn’t sure how I would handle being with someone for the first time since …” He runs his hand over his chest. “I was worried it would be awkward, so, thank you.”

I press my lips together. “I would’ve gone for better words like mind-blowing or phenomenal, but I guess I can settle for ‘not awkward.’ Awesome.”

Saint’s eyes narrow, like he’s trying to work out if I’m serious or not, when I break into a smile.

“You’re welcome,” I say.

“And I’ve been thinking … about what you said in the car.”

“I said a lot of things in the car.”

“About, umm, hypnotherapy? And I want to try it. I want to try to remember.”

“Wait, wait, wait. Let me get this straight. I mention hypnotherapy. We have sex. And your first thought after the sex is about hypnotherapy? I’m going to have to up my game.”

“It’s not that—”

“Nope. Next chance I get, we’re doing that again, and I will keep doing it until all you’re thinking about is fucking me, being fucked by me, or … fucking each other.”

Saint huffs. “No complaints here. But, umm, did you mean what you said? That you’ll come with me?”

I deflate and lose the nonchalant attitude because Saint is actually being serious. “I’ll do anything you want me to.”

“Let me drive your car?”

“Except that. You need to get your own. True story, that’s what Meatloaf was singing about. He’ll do anything for love except let his girlfriend drive his car.”

Saint frowns. “I … don’t think that’s accurate.”

“Well, it should be. Do you want me to ask Trav for names of some therapists? He’ll cover the cost.”

“No, it’s all good. I can ask him when we go in later. In”—he squints at the clock on the wall—“fuck, five hours.”

“We should get some sleep. But first, let’s get cleaned up and dry. Then we’ll sleep in your bed. Someone got all these sheets cold and wet.”

“Damn those someones.”

We slip out of bed, and I trail after Saint, loving the sight of my cum dripping down his legs.

When Saint asks Trav for some names, I get the impression he thought there’d be a waiting period to get into someone. Saint hasn’t yet grasped how much pull Trav has in this world. So when the appointment is only a few days later, Saint looks like he’s regretting doing the right thing.