Lingering Echoes (Iris's POV)

I paced the lobby, phone in hand, pretending to check emails while my body still hummed like a live wire. The cold shower had been a joke. I’d stood under the icy spray, hoping it would douse the fire, but it only made things worse. My hand had slipped between my thighs almost without permission; two fingers knuckle-deep in my needy cunt, palm grinding against my clit as I braced against the tile.

I couldn’t stop hearing them. Even with the water roaring in my ears, Emily’s moans filtered through the wall; raw, ****, endless. Joe’s low growls answering her. The rhythmic slap of skin on skin. I pictured him behind me instead, one strong arm hooked under my thigh, lifting my leg high while he slammed into me from behind, deep and relentless. Emily on her knees in front of us, tongue flicking my clit in time with every thrust, her big eyes looking up at me while Joe stretched me wide.

I came hard in the shower, biting my lip to stay quiet, thighs shaking as my pussy clenched around my fingers. It barely took the edge off.

Jesus, what has gotten into me?

I’ve always known I liked both; men and women almost equally; but none had ever completely satisfied me. Until today, listening through that wall, I was suddenly, achingly certain Joe and Emily together could ruin me in the best way.

I overheard the front-desk staff whispering earlier about the “noise from 810.” One of them; a cute little blonde with bright blue eyes; wondered aloud if the guy was “hung like a horse.” I’d only seen Joe half-hard that one accidental morning in his office shower, water streaming down his cut abs to a cock that was already thick and heavy. I could confirm: neigh.

The elevator dinged, snapping me out of the memory. The doors slid open, and there they were.

Emily stepped out first, absolutely glowing; cheeks flushed, lips swollen, eyes bright with that telltale post-orgasm haze. She wore simple business-casual: hip-hugging pants that made her ass look criminal and a loose blouse that somehow still clung in all the right places, ponytail swinging like Joe had been yanking it while he fucked her from behind. The subtle sway in her walk screamed freshly and thoroughly fucked. My stomach flipped.

Joe followed, looking ridiculously, unfairly handsome; black tee stretched across his broad shoulders, dark jeans, those rugged boots Emily loved. He moved with easy swagger, like a man who’d just claimed his woman six ways to Sunday and knew it.

My pulse spiked. Heat flooded my cheeks; and lower. My pussy gave an involuntary clench, a fresh rush of wetness soaking my panties. Please don’t let it show.

“Irie!” Emily exclaimed, bounding over and pulling me into a quick hug. She smelled like sex and vanilla and Joe.

“Limo’s outside,” I managed, my voice catching just a little.

“You okay?” Joe asked, genuine concern in those dark eyes as he brushed my arm lightly. The casual touch sent sparks straight to my core.

“Fine. Totally fine,” I lied, forcing a smile. “Hope you’re ready for a fashion show. Kate’s got outfits lined up for all of us.”

Emily tilted her head. “How does she even have our measurements?”

I raised my hand sheepishly. “Guilty.”

“As efficient as ever,” Joe said, grinning, his fingers lingering on my arm a second longer than necessary.

Spin me around and fuck me right here, flashed through my mind, unbidden and filthy. My thighs pressed together instinctively. God, I hope these panties hold up through wardrobe changes.

I turned toward the exit before they could see the flush creeping up my neck.

“Let’s go,” I said, voice steadier than I felt. “We’ve got a night to get ready for.”