Iris’s POV
He rocks the steel against my c**t in slow, precise movements. The temperature contrast against my flushed skin sends jolts through my legs, buckling my knees every few seconds.
I'm pressed against the wall, crying and shaking, and my hips are grinding against the gun on their own.
I cannot make them stop no matter how hard my brain screams at my body to be still.
"The woman who swung a bat at my head," he says against my skin, watching me grind on the steel, "is riding my gun with tears on her face. I knew you'd be like this."
"You don't know anything about me," I protest, my hips still rolling.
"I know everything about you." He tilts the angle and the cold edge presses directly onto my c**t, and my legs almost give away. "I've been watching for a week, Iris. The fire e
