Iris’s POV

He rocks the steel against my clit 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...