Tangan Di Iris Novels & Stories

Tori squeezed Iris' hand with assurance. "Make mistakes, Iris. We will sort them out together. Just don't hold yourself back from doing anything." Tori keeps her whole, undivided attention at her friend who also seems to be giving in. I watch as Iris heave in a long sigh and turned her head to look at me with her those hypnotizing violet eyes as she told me, "I will come." Fucking finally!

"A lady is not supposed to be this messy." Iris's fingers were in the mud, and the pain from her nails gave her a feeling of self-mutilating pleasure. "Your body temperature is not normal." The hand with the emerald ring touched her forehead. Iris clenched her teeth as the man's touch made her moan. The man laughed softly. "He shouldn't treat a lady like that." Iris felt a handkerchief over her eyes and she couldn't see anything. Then the man picked her up and took her to the car.

Good start, twig. I heard a gasp from Iris when she hit Darick’s palm instead of his face. He was fast, I gave him that. “Yeah, just like that, but stronger, Iris. Give me your best shot. Remember you can’t run to me, or wear gloves, or wrap your knuckles to protect them. Make sure to keep your thumb out, and don’t bend your wrist otherwise you will end up with a sprain, or worse broken bones.” “Again!” She did it again. “Again!” She did it faster and stronger repeatedly until Darick was satisfied with the outcome.

Iris’s POV My hands moved up, gripping his shoulders in fear. I couldn’t predict what he would do the next second. My lips were hurting. Hadn’t he had enough of sucking the life out of them? A hiss escaped my lips as my nails dug into his shoulders. Still, I couldn’t ignore the tingling sensation running through my body at his touch. My other hand pressed against his chest, trying to free myself from his grip. My legs were hurting; I couldn’t stand for much longer.

Her nipples, hardened and pressing against the thin fabric, were already teasing me, while the dark hickeys on her neck and the reddened marks around her wrists. It was a sight that stirred a possessive warmth within me, but also a pang of guilt. She looked so vulnerable, yet so beautiful. "Amore mio," I said, reaching out to gently stroke her hair, "why don’t you wear something more covering? Like full sleeves or maybe a turtleneck?" My voice was soft, laced with concern. But Iris was focused on something else. Her attention was entirely on the stove, where she was stirring a pot of something that smelled absolutely divine.