“Palms down flat, baby.”

My hoarse command grated out in the quiet room, sounding like rust shavings soaked in rotgut whiskey. I winced, clearing a tight throat.

Nice voice, Jameson.

Shaking hair out of my eyes, I tried again, shifting on my busted leg.

Swiss Alps. Out of a helicopter. Don’t ask.

“Can you bend all the way for me, babe? Like we talked about?”

Hell yeah, could she ever.

I licked dry lips, eyes glued to the delectable ass I held between not-so-steady hands as Iris obeyed with an agreeable purr, dipping south in an excruciatingly slow and limber stretch. Long pieces of butterscotch-colored waves slithered past her bare shoulders, kissing the hardwood as that taut butt popped up higher. Breath hitching, I blinked, staring down at Nirvana.

Christ on the fucking cross.

Meanwhile, my vocal capabilities continued to nosedive.

“Aw, yeah, girl. Like that. Yeah, just like that.”

Smoothing a caress over a velvety cheek, I reluctantly released Iris’s opposite hip to attend to some urgent housekeeping. And I do mean urgent. Tongue between teeth, I made swift, imperative adjustments to the lead pipe pounding against my thigh before it burst clean through a pair of hacked-up Levi’s—the right leg amateurishly scissored off just above my cast, à la Huck Finn.

What can I say? A tailor, I am not.

Rivulets of sweat hazed my vision as a fumbling fist assessed the sitch going on behind my straining zip. Groping blindly, panic set in.

Ah, shit. Situation appears pretty damned critical.

Fingers sliding up twitching inches, I bit back a smirk, impressed despite the mortal agony. Holy hell, I had never been so fucking solid. Palm stretched wide, I conducted a rough and rapid measure. Nope, not ever. And without a whole lot of modesty, that was sayin’ something. Tearing dazzled eyes from Iris’s juicy backside, I arrowed a fast glance at my fly.

Jesus H. Talk about primed.

But not yet. God, no, not just yet.

“Hurry, Ax. I need it so bad…”

Fucking hell, this naughty, teasing girl. 

“Uh. Er, wait just a sec, sugar…”

I shifted things around some more, juggling my junk. Between you, me, and the crowbar in my crotch, I could’ve wept at the delay, but that impatient mother had to hang on a wee while longer before he could come out and play. Choking back a moan, I ground my palm down hard.

Wee while, for sure. That is, if I didn’t want to blow my load like a freaking twelve-year-old before Axie Junior even made contact. Christ, that would be the worst. I shuddered top to tail at the mortifying thought, feeling my face flush hotter.

That’s right. Suck it up, A-hole.

Breathing like a dying man and trying not to drip drool all over the petite, rounded rump bobbing a handspan away, I struggled to tame the shitshow going down in my skivvies.

Yeah, must quash the beast. My little girl was nowhere near ready for the likes of him just yet, and I knew it. Jaw clamped, I swallowed another groan, manning up. Another brutal grind. Another savage shove.

Blue balls be damned… I’ll show this greedy rat bastard who was running things around here.

Too bad the fucker wasn’t listening.

Being the prick that he was, the SOB bucked right back, howling to get sprung and get busy. Cruelly, I bashed yet again, intent on rendering swollen meat and veg into eunuch material. Concluding with a punishing squeeze for good measure, I staggered, seeing planets and stars.


Working on not keeling over, I cursed silently, sorry for us both.

Apologies, little buddy. Trust me; this hurts me as bad as it hurts you.

I fought through the pain, squinting past his outraged bulge to the warm, quivering package my left digits continued to stroke. Finished with the self-abuse for the time being, my right mitt latched back onto Iris’s hip, happily rejoining the party. Fuck, yeah. Dizzy as a drunkard, I stroked ten fingers hither and yon, exploring acres of creamy, uncharted territory.

Goddamn, was this girl something. Incredible, superb, unmatched. Sweet as honey from the bee, sexy as sin. And, best of all, receptive as all get-out. Ears throbbing, I ate up the low moans and soft sighs whispering out those luscious red lips, every syllable hot-wired to my hungry dick.

“Oooh, Axel, yessss… Your hands feel so good. Mmm, so big and strong and warm—”

Fuck me, that mouth on her.

Rigid with lust, I studied the eye-crossing magnificence of Iris Donovan, stretched out in front of me like the wildest wet dream ever, come to cockjerking life. Cockjerking, indeed. Lord, let me count the ways.

My stare focused, searing over her nude, tip-tilted frame.

Five feet and a little bit of change. Tight, sunkissed bod, blessed with curves in all the right places. Slim, shapely hips, lissome waist… hell, I could practically span the thing with one hand. Although sadly they weren’t on view from this particular angle, I rhapsodized over a pair of perfectly formed, apple-size tits, capped with succulent rosebud nipples I could suck on forever. My mouth watered, ravenous for a taste of those sugar-sweet peaks.

Oh, man, yeah. Forever and a fuckin’ day.

Greedy eyes traced the contours of Iris’s world-class ass, straining for a glimpse of luscious pink pussy. Christ, I’d lay top dollar that hidden goldmine nestled a fraction beyond my vision was just as sublimely tight as the rest of her. And I was freakin’ dying to find out. As in, immediately. Blood aflame, I chewed my lip, eyes flicking back and forth between us.

But, damn. She sure was a tiny thing.

Truth be told, I was getting more worried by the second. Worried whether my baby could take all of me. Not to make a big thing out of a big thing, but… I reexamined distorted denim, savaging my lip harder as I clocked what appeared to have morphed into a regulation-size cricket bat.

I mean, logistically. Me, her? Was this shit even physically possible?


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