Chapter Eight
Cyrus
I want to be slow and methodical. Memorize every touch. Map her out like the constellations in the sky—every memory, quirk, and experience. The rise and fall of her chest, the weight of her breasts, the sounds of pleasure that spill from her pretty pink lips. I want to encapsulate it until I’ve found every single star and traced every last line.
She moans quietly as I lean her up against the patio door. I didn’t mean to land us there, but it’s where we are. Her bare ass is pressed against the glass as I pull her dress up and off her curved frame.
“You’re so God damn gorgeous, sweetheart.” My hand wanders with my eyes as I inspect her body, caressing her shoulders, her full breasts, her expanded stomach, and her inner thighs.
Those thighs!
My teeth sink into her shoulder, and I lick where I’ve bitten down, tasting her naturally sweet skin. “Good girl. You like it when I mark you up?”
Sighing, her thick frame squirms beneath my touch. “Yeah, mark me up, Cyrus. Make me yours.” She pants as she speaks, and my cock hears her loud and clear.
“I’m so fuckin’ hard for you,” I groan lowly in her ear, nibbling on the lobe as I drag my tongue down the side of her neck, onto her chest, and over her breasts before focusing on her hard nipples.
“That feels good,” she moans, fingering through my hair as I suckle her nipple, drawing out a sweet liquid I’m not expecting.
“Oh shit,” she glances down at me, “I’m leaking. That’s gross. Stop.”
“It’s not gross.” I’m barely able to pull from her breast to answer. “You taste so good.” I’ve never tasted breastmilk before, at least not in a sexual way, but it’s hot as fuck drinking the fluids her body’s made.
“Really?” As her hips press forward, her voice sounds tortured when she says, “I don’t know why, but it feels good the way you’re doing it.”
I growl and lean into her breast, sloppily sipping her milk, tasting her, connecting with her as she feathers through my hair. Never in a million years would I have thought this could be sexy, but it really fucking is.
With each flick of my tongue, she moans, and my cock grows harder. Jesus, she tastes good. Milk drips down my chin as I go back and forth between her full breasts like a parched riverbed about to crack under the weight of emptiness.
I need her. All of her.
My hand wanders her thighs, and I think back to earlier this evening when I had her sat up on the kitchen counter eating her little pussy, thrusting my fingers inside of her. The second her pussy clutched my finger tight, I knew I had to have her. I have to know what it feels like to slide inside of her tight, soaking core.
When I’ve successfully dried her milk supply, I lean into her lips and moan as I whisper, “You gonna let me do that every night? I’ll take whatever the baby doesn’t.”
She stares up at me for a second, and I wonder if maybe I’ve gone too far. There’s a chance she’s protective of her milk, that this isn’t sexual for her at all, and I’ve missed the mark.
I hope that’s not the case.
“Whenever you want it,” she groans, staring up at me with those pretty green eyes. “It’s yours. I’m all yours.”
Fucking hell!
Her small hands work the buckle of my jeans and tug them to the floor before she wraps her fingers around my throbbing cock with a moan. “I need you so badly. I’m dripping wet right now.”
I slide my hand over her soaking pussy, cupping her mound possessively before kissing her neck, lingering on the very back corner. This spot causes the deepest moan, and I’ll never tire of that sound.
I love that sound.
“Fuck me, Cyrus. I need it.”
“Tell me you’re mine,” I growl low against her neck and kiss her shoulder, sinking my teeth in with each slow movement.
“I’m yours,” she says breathlessly. “Please… I need you to fill me up.”
Fuck.
Her tiny hand strokes my rock-hard cock over and over again as she hums. There’s no fucking way I can go on like this. I’ve been fantasizing about her for twenty-four hours straight. I’ve been working myself up for hours with my lips on her seam, her scent in my beard.
“My God, you’re killing me,” I groan, turning her toward the glass that overlooks her back yard. I’m not sure how many neighbors are back there or what it looks out on. I don’t care. I’m too worked up, too desperate for her.
Her hands land on the glass and her fingers spread as she bends forward, slightly presenting her round ass to me. Her silky hair tickles my hand as I grip the back of her neck and position myself at her entrance.
Part of me thinks I should’ve double checked if the door was locked, but that thought passes as I sink inside of her. “Oh my God, you’re so fucking tight.” Her muscles grip me as I sink further in, as I watch her face in the reflection of the dark window. I hadn’t planned that, but it worked out nicely.
Jaw tense, I hold her belly as I thrust, trying to offer her some sense of relief from the weight she’s carrying while also balancing us both as I fuck her hard.
“Right there,” she pants and whines, reaching back to hold her hand over the top of mine. “Keep going. Harder.”
Harder it is. Gritting my teeth, I dig into her hips, and thrust with a growl, thumping into her harder and harder as fog from her breath steams the glass, her tits making the most angelic sound as they slap against the sliding door.
Faster and harder, in and out, thrust after thrust, I drag my hand up her back and grip her hair, tugging as I work.
“Oh fuck,” she moans deeply, and I take that as permission to tug harder.
A bead of sweat runs down the side of my face, and though I’m trying desperately not to come, it’s an impossible task.
The sound of her pleasure and the slapping of my balls, the salty scent in the air, her soft skin, her tight channel. It’s too fucking much.
“Be a good girl and come on my cock,” I groan, trying to slow my thrusting. “I need it! Give it to me!”
“Cyrus,” she puffs, staring back at me through the reflection, “I…” Her mouth hangs open in suspense as her pussy clenches down on my cock and her head tilts back. “Oh my God…” Her soft frame trembles and shakes as an orgasm rolls over her thick frame, taking my cock with it.
Maybe a better man would hold out and let her enjoy the ride she’s on. Maybe he’d pet her slowly and kiss her gently. Maybe he’d have nice things to say. Me, I can’t think straight. I’m a fucking mess. I thrust harder than ever, desperation taking over as I come.
Oh fuck… it’s been a while. A long while. My arms go numb first, then my shoulders, and then my back before an electric buzz spreads down my spine leaving me light-headed.
“Fucking hell, you felt good,” I groan, pushing the last bit of seed I have left inside of her. “I don’t want to let go.”
“Then don’t. Let’s go lay in bed until the baby’s born.” A soft smile lifts onto her face, and I can’t help but smile back.
For decades, I’ve been busy running a business, living alone, convincing myself that life made more sense without a partner. Now, I can’t even fathom that concept, and I’ll never go back to my old life again.