He rolled his eyes, sat on the couch, arms braced on his knees. “Iris, please, couldn’t this all possibly wait until I’ve returned to jolly old England?”
“No, it can’t. I don’t think you understand how crushed I am by the whole thing, and I’ve scarcely slept a wink since you’ve been gone, darling. I think about the wonderful times we had together, and how foolish it was of me to jeopardize everything simply because I was lonely.”
“Iris—”
“The thing is, lambkins, that I never meant to harm us. I really rather thought of it as nothing more than a silly little tryst. It meant absolutely nothing.”
“Yes, so you’ve said several times now. But really, how am I to trust you, Iris? How can I know that when I’m off on assignment, you aren’t shagging the neighbor and thinking it a harmless tryst?”
“Because I am swearing on my life that I won’t do it again,” she said, her voice pleading. “I am giving you my solemn vow to be ever faithful.”
Flynn suppressed a groan.
“Oh darling, you know how much I love you! Remember that afternoon we drove to Windsor and took the little boat out onto the river?”
He remembered it; of course he remembered it. He’d been terribly happy then—it was a couple of months before he’d gone off so terribly sentimental and asked her to marry him.
That day at Windsor, she’d been in the front of the boat, lounging against several pillows, a parasol over her head, looking quite delectable as they floated along to a picnic spot she knew about. Flynn had adored that day—they had laughed and talked about a number of things, as comfortable together as an old pair of slippers, and he’d seen his future stretch before him: a beautiful wife, happy children, a dog or two.
“Remember the spot where we picnicked?” she asked, her voice suddenly husky.
He recalled that as well and leaned back against the couch. In a secluded area, on a thick quilt, she had seduced him, had enticed him, with the help of strawberries and cream, to eat her as if she were a luscious dessert. Just the memory of it aroused him, and he put his hand on top of his boxers, felt his dick growing thick again.
“Think of it, darling,” she said softly. “Remember it with me. I’m thinking of it, too, touching myself precisely where you licked me,” she whispered. “Do you remember? Wouldn’t you like to lick me again like you did that day? Wouldn’t you like to feel me come again?”
His dick was beginning to pulse, and he slipped his hand inside his boxers, stroked it. “Go on,” he said, as his fingers curled tightly around it.
“It was delicious,” she purred. “I was quite wet, just as I am now, and insatiable. I couldn’t get enough of you. I came so hard, but I only wanted more. I said, ‘Flynn, darling, shag me,’” She moaned into the phone.
But Flynn’s hand stilled. This was all a lot of fun, but Iris had skipped one small detail he could never skip. That same day, he had asked her to return the favor, but she had wrinkled her nose with disgust and vowed that her lips would never go near “that thing.”
“And I remember how it felt when you slid inside me—”
“You’re forgetting something, aren’t you, Iris?” he said, withdrawing his hand from his boxers and sitting up. “You’re forgetting that I wanted something from you, too.”
She said nothing for a moment, but he noticed her breathing stilled. “Why must you bring that up now? I thought we were having a laugh.”
“Because it’s important to me. Now let’s play another game of recall, shall we?”
“Flynn—”
“Let’s start with the day I discovered you and Paul. You tried to brush it off by saying that you had only—and these were your precise words—blown him on occasion.”
Iris wisely said nothing.
“I actually loved you, Iris. But I’m not certain you ever loved me.”
“Of course I did! What a horrid thing to say! And I still do love you, desperately so! Why do you think I keep ringing you? I am quite despondent and quite frantic to salvage what we had!”
“I’m hardly convinced,” he said calmly.
“What other possible motive could I have?” she demanded, her voice going shrill.
“Actually, that’s an excellent question, and one I haven’t quite put my finger on. But I suspect it has something to do with my family’s ties to the Duke of Alnwick and your esteem of the aristocracy.”
“That’s horrid!”
“Perhaps it is. As I said, I haven’t quite worked it all through. But I don’t think I want to work it through, Iris. I think I’m quite done with you, really. It’s over. Really very much over. And now, if you will excuse me, I must run along, for I’ve got quite a lot to do here.”
“Flynn!” she cried. “Please don’t hang up! Don’t toss everything we had into the rubbish bin!”