Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 102166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
A little high on her power, Iris started to ride him slowly, soft little rocks of her hips that became faster circles until the need became too strong, until her self-control shattered.
Then she was riding him hard and fast, panting and moaning as she got closer and closer to that edge.
Heat spiraled, coiling tighter and tighter until the pressure alone felt sure to snap her.
“That’s it,” Finn groaned. “Let go for me.”
The tension snapped and her body surged, her head falling back on a moan as the orgasm sizzled through her system.
Finn rocked up into her, dragging it out, making it last, even as she fell forward into him, whimpering against his chest.
His arms anchored across her hips, holding her close as he rocked even deeper, his whole body tensing as he came.
He pulled her onto his chest afterward, both of them spent, bodies lax, too exhausted even to speak.
And if Iris tried hard enough, she could almost make herself believe it was enough.
But morning always came, and the fantasy always faded.
24
Iris
“But why does it matter if I wear heels, if the dress covers my feet?”
It was a reasonable question.
But none of the men currently looking at her would hear of her wearing flats.
“It’s the dress code, darling,” Arden told her. He moved forward, carefully placing the subtle coral crown on her head.
She’d tried to insist that a crown would be too much. But both Arden and Henry believed that it was never ‘too much’ when you were literally royalty.
Finn had held up his hands, claiming he didn’t want to be a part of that argument.
“Perfect,” Arden declared as he stepped back. “You look like a princess.”
“I am a princess.”
“Exactly. But now, people will believe it,” he said, eyes sparkling.
“Rude.”
“But true.”
“Fine. That’s fair. Any more tips for me?”
“Just be your charming self. I wish I could be there to see it. Alas, I would need an extra comma in my net worth to be invited.”
“You’re going to Selene’s, right?”
“Yep. Gotta ask Gerty what she’s angry about now.”
“You’ll keep me posted? I need something to look forward to.”
“Oh, stop. You’re going to have fun. Drinking, dancing, good wine, itty-bitty servings of food. Finn, you know where the closest hot pretzel cart is to the venue, right?”
“Enough chit-chat. You’re already ten minutes late, and you must drive across town,” Henry said, waving toward the door.
“Someone needs to get laid,” Arden said, making Iris snort.
“I heard that.”
“I meant you to.” The demon turned to the campaign manager, straightening his already straight tie. “You’re wound so tight. You need to pop,” he said, patting Henry’s chest.
“The saying is that you’re going to pop,” Henry, a little pink, clarified.
“I believe it means the same thing,” Arden said, leaning in close. Then, quickly shifting from sinfully flirtatious to laid-back and easy, he clapped. “Okay. Go be a princess at the ball. I will go talk to a ghost who smells like mothballs and stale cigarettes.”
With one last smile, he was gone.
Henry, recovered, ushered them into the elevator, then the waiting town car.
“You’re going to do great,” Finn assured her, his hand reaching for hers, giving it a squeeze. “We will be together all night, so if you’re confused by anything, just give my hand a squeeze.”
She didn’t imagine there would be much to be confused by.
Until, of course, they moved into the sprawling museum. Everything was dipped in ambiance: candles, chandeliers, fairy lights. It made the space almost cinematic as they moved through the displays of ancient artifacts, following a small crowd toward a wider, open space dominated by a giant Tyrannosaurus rex skeleton.
Music thrummed, low and breezy, from the band near the front of the room. Standing before them, a fae in a brilliant red sari crooned over the music.
“This is the cocktail hour,” Finn said, his lips near her ear as he snagged two champagne flutes off a passing tray. He passed one glass to her. “We will walk around, look at the displays, speak to others, possibly bid on items at the silent auction.” He waved over toward a long row of tables draped in champagne-colored tablecloths with various items or signs and notepads set in front of them.
“And after that?”
“Everyone will move into the dining hall. We will find our table, eat, and talk with our tablemates. There will be an emcee, guest speakers. And—”
“Mr. Westrock,” a voice called.
“Here we go,” Finn said. He sipped his champagne, then switched on his PR smile before turning to greet the tall man with ghost-pale skin.
Iris felt a familiar little shiver, could sense the lethal kind of charm leaching from the man.
A vampire.
She was sure of it.
Any hope that the conversation might be interesting or engaging, though, quickly fell away as the men started to talk about policy.
She tried to keep track, really, she did. But it wasn’t long before her mind was wandering and her gaze was sweeping the room, taking in the atmosphere and the various humans and paranormals gathered.