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Please continue reading if you’ve read the story starter – a very long Chapter 1 – and you’re ready to dive into the story with me.

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About the story: (short description. Click here for longer)

“Let Me Love You” is a tale of love and sacrifice and a poignant story of self-discovery, celebrating the human capacity to find love in the most unlikely of circumstances.

Please enjoy the current WIP of Iris and El. This will be published freely up to a point, like in the old days, and then the entire book will be posted for full download. I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments. And don’t forget to check out the companion stories. (Wicked Chances, Dreams of Reality, The Convenient Wife, The Other Side of Love, She Works Hard for the Money & Ravenous)

Enjoy, Your Author, Sylvia Hubbard

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Read more: Let Me Love You – Chapter 44✍🏾📚❤️ #SylLit #WIP #livestory 📖💓 #marriedwife #demandedconsensual #darkromance

AUTHOR’S NOTE: oooh, I like this one. I had to bring out the big guns on this one.

I haven’t had to touch that book in a while but this needed something out of the box and although Grammarly and I fought about it, I’m sticking to my guns.

El was speaking in tongue in more ways than one!

Heat flooded the room, and sweat suddenly appeared on Damien’s brow. Iris expelled a large breath of relief as her cheeks bloomed from the rise in room temperature.

El’s sharp eyes accessed Damien’s subservient position in front of her, but then his eyes shot to Damien holding her hands, and El growled while charging into the room and knocking Damien in his jaw.

“I fucking told you to stay the fuck away from her, you fucking piss ant!” El raged. 

Damien was knocked back on his butt and tried to scramble up, but El was on top of him with an uppercut to his chin, lifting Damien a foot in the air, and then El punched Damien in the chest.

El snarled, “No one fucking touches what’s mine!”

Iris loved the anger and that El had knocked Damien almost across the room. She’d wanted to do just that from the man’s confession. Yet, she didn’t want Damien dead from the beating El looked like he wanted to deliver. Standing up from the couch, she touched El’s fist, which was about to hit Damien again in the face.

“Don’t,” she pleaded, emotionally exhausted. “Take me back to your room, El.”

Instantly, his rage disappeared, and he took her hand and guided her out of the room. 

Joy, gratitude, and so much more ran through her veins as she felt El’s possessive grip on her hand while he nearly yanked her to the second-floor elevators. She didn’t care. Her feet fumbled from his rushed stride. Iris was falling in love with this man the farther she got away from Damien. 

El had saved her in more ways than one. 

And she knew she would forever feel this way no matter what happened.

Yet, she wanted to stay realistic but not overwhelm him with girly emotions. He was probably only doing this because of his condition and his reluctance to let anyone touch anything of his.

He liked her… for now!

Even if he didn’t say that.

And she wasn’t sure how long this would last, but Iris would enjoy El while it lasted.  

When they were in the elevator, Iris rushed over to him and hugged him. “Thank you.”

He pushed her firmly away from him to the other side of the elevator, looking like he was about to throw up. She decided not to speak yet until they were alone.

As soon as El had her ensconced inside his room again after taking his shoes off, he knelt down and took off her shoes. She barely grabbed them on her way out and had halfway put them on in her upset.

El looked up at her for bending the back heel and ruining the shoes, but she had her reason and wasn’t going to apologize.

Iris felt she needed to explain herself, but when she started to speak, he put his finger over her lips and shook his head. 

Was he going to beat her? He had reason after seeing her with Damien. Maybe that’s why El got her alone, and she was stupid enough to return to this hotel room with her. 

How often had Dwayne waited until they were back at the house and up in their bedroom, with the door locked, to beat the bricks off of her?

Starting to panic, Iris tried to get away from him and get back out of the door, but El slammed the door and grabbed her to him. 

Shaking in fear, she remembered Dwayne had given El permission to do whatever he wanted, and just like all the other men in her life, El could beat her to a pulp, and she’d accept it.

Yet, she didn’t want to accept some beating that she didn’t deserve because he was a jealous, selfish prick. She didn’t want to take anything that would hurt her anymore.

Fight!

El reached for the top of her shirt, but she knocked his hand away and then tried to push him. That was foolhardy since his stance was strong. Still, she tried to turn around and grab her purse to get out of the door. 

When he knocked her hand away, he grabbed her back and pinned her lower body to the door so she couldn’t move, so she slapped him across his face.

He stopped everything, narrowing those intense eyes, and she started to speak again, but he covered her mouth.

Iris bit his hand, and El pressed away from her but dragged her to him roughly, lifting her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and walking into the bedroom where Violet’s journals were still strewn across the bed. 

Beating on his back, Iris screamed, “Put me down! Don’t you dare beat me! DON’T YOU DARE!”

El didn’t stop until he was in the bathroom and plopped her down hard. Iris put her arms up to defend herself from any physical strikes, but he didn’t hit her. Instead, he started to remove her clothing.

When she started to protest verbally and by holding his hands still, he snarled, “I swear I will tear these clothes off your body, woman if you don’t let me do this, and you’ll have nothing to wear home.” That familiar look of nausea was all over his face.

Closing her lips, Iris dropped her hands and allowed him to continue to remove her clothing.

Calming down, watching him meticulously take off her clothes and toss them in the corner, Iris realized the man wasn’t punishing her; El was trying to tolerate her. When she was naked, he turned on the shower and then motioned her to get in the water. 

The hotel’s hard water wasn’t like Aunt Rose’s, but Iris reluctantly endured. The soap was more chemical but at least moisturized. She even filled her mouth with water, sloshed it all around her teeth, and spit it out. As she soaped the washcloth, Iris gasped. She turned around to find El naked as the day he was born, joining her in the shower, holding a toothbrush in his mouth. 

After handing her another toothbrush ready to be used, he took the soap and washcloth away from her and proceeded to wash her body. 

Too shocked to say anything as he soaped her entire body up until she couldn’t see one piece of brown skin on her – only suds all the way down to her toes. She shrieked as he saved her womanhood and rear for last, scrubbing intently but not rough. Blushing, Iris realized he could see how her hair wasn’t perfectly coiffed and her legs could use a shave as well, but this didn’t seem to bother him as much as any smell on her body and the way he was scrubbing her body, he was trying to get everything off including the first layer of skin. 

When he was done, El put her in front of the water to clean her off while he quickly washed himself down with a new washcloth.

As she brushed her teeth, she watched him the whole time while rinsing off, appreciating those rigid shoulders and lean waist, and although he was flaccid, his manhood was still so thick. His normally straight hair started to curl up tight, showing his ethnic mix. Without thinking, Iris reached out and touched his thick apparatus, holding him and remembering what he had done to his body.

El instantly stopped brushing his teeth to watch her hands adore him. Switching places with her so the water could run over his shoulders to the front of his body, she smiled, loving how he had thoroughly cleaned them. 

This was the most intimate loving action any man had ever done to her and she just wanted to thank him for this.

Reluctantly, she pulled her hand away from his member to help guide the water over the front of his body and get rid of all the soap on his skin. He did the same for her body, and she loved the feel of his hands on her skin. Their washcloths were down at their feet, and now their hands roamed through every part of their body together as they enjoyed each other’s touch. 

“I think you could eat off my body,” she remarked in a tease to lighten that intense look on his face after he rinsed his mouth.  

“We’ll see about that,” El growled, dropping to his knees, pulling her leg over his firm shoulder, and dove face first between her legs. 

She was glad the wall was behind her because she would have flipped down to the ground, feeling an electrical bolt shoot through her pelvis into her brain. The man’s mouth did so many things to her body that she could barely stand straight. Yet, when she thought her legs were going to collapse, he pressed her rear against the wall as well, pulled her other thigh over his shoulder, and then he stood.

El flawlessly held all the weight of her body on his shoulders as if she weighed nothing. Automatically, she used his head to hold on, and because he wasn’t immensely tall, her head only made it up on the shower instead of bumping against the ceiling. 

All the while, El never stopped speaking genitalese, with passion and vigor; her body understood every unspoken word and phrase like she was born to comprehend. And then he moaned; that was all Iris needed to let everything go. Knowing he enjoyed eating her out as much as she enjoyed being eaten out sent shockwaves over, and she didn’t care if she was screaming or crying so loud anyone outside of the room would think this man was killing her. 

She would get used to this, and when this was over, she would be devastated, but Iris didn’t care. Her boss could destroy every cell in her body, her soul and her mind as long as he wanted.

Iris loved El.

End of This Chapter | Post your thoughts in the comment | Let the author know what’s going on in your head

Let Me Love You (c) 2024 Sylvia Hubbard All Rights Reserved

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual person, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
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