Fallon #2
The confession cost me everything. My control splinters, piece by piece. Stripped bare before the one person who holds the power to wreck me. For once, tears stream down my cheeks without shame. He doesn’t answer with words. He stays. Holding me.
Minutes pass before his fingers grasp my chin, tilting my face to his. Blue eyes hold my green ones. There is no end to the emotion in them. Steam swirls around us, curling in a warm blanket around us, but it doesn’t ease the quiet storm in his expression.
“Fal, I love you. Please don’t change your mind. Don’t send me away.”
The pounding in my chest heightens at his plea, hands knotting together at my waist. My chin dips in one final nod, a trembling signal as words fail me.. Every inch of me registers the gravity of this moment, raw and unguarded. For both of us. Our lips meet one another, a promise sealed in a kiss.
I inhale, catching the scent of him—cologne, soap, something undeniably him—and the pull between us shifts, urgent instead of tender. My pulse thunders in my ears, a rhythm matching his own quiet, desperate energy.
Without thinking, I close the space, letting my hand find the curve of his waist. He responds immediately, hands threading into my hair, holding me as though letting go isn’t an option. The shower splashes around us, the sound a heartbeat under the quiet tension.
Our lips meet again, softly at first, a question, a test. Then everything spills—desire, regret, need, longing—folding into a devastating kiss that consumes us both. Our souls mingle together, so in tune with each other. Both of us sharing in the heat, the ache, the impossibility of pulling back.
When we finally break apart for a moment, foreheads touching, breaths mingling, I realize I don’t need to speak. He knows. I know. And in this small, steaming corner of the world, there’s no one but us.
His fingertips brush against my bare skin as he lifts my hair over my shoulder, away from my chest, behind my back, Our only focus, one another.
The years of separation have done nothing to sever the connection we have.
His lips find my nipples, gently suckling and tugging while his hands roam over my arms, my back, and up my throat to my hair.
I moan in ecstasy, the pleasure from his touch bringing me closer to the edge of sanity. The tip of his finger slips between my folds, slick with need, drawing a moan from my lips.
Cyrus drops to his knees before me. His nose drifts over the small triangle of hair, inhaling me, slowly, deliberately.
The scrape of his stubble against my skin sends shivers down my spine, and something about the way he pauses there—kneeling, needing, but not pushing—I whimper, my chest tightening.
His icy blue eyes flick up at me, sharp and sparkling, teasing.
His mouth quirks enough to hint at mischief, a slow, deliberate curl that makes my pulse spike.
His gaze drills into mine, daring me to look away, daring me to react; every nerve in my body is screaming for him.
The heat radiating off him; the tension coiling in his shoulders, the subtle flex of his jaw—he’s claiming this moment without touching me further. I vibrate with need.
“Fallon, your body’s response is very telling.
” With that, he places my leg over one shoulder, opening my body for him, his groan running down my spine.
“Baby, you’re so ready already.” His finger reach out, running around my opening.
My lips tighten in an almost unpleasant way, the tingling sensation stealing my breath.
“So swollen, so wet for me.” He leans forward, running his tongue over my slit once.
My head falls back against the tile. “No, baby, watch what I do to your pussy.” Copper locks brush against my sensitive nipples as I watch with wide eyes as he feasts on me.
His mouth sucks, nips, swirls, I lose all sense of composure.
The water rushes over my sensitive flesh, rivulets running over my breasts.
Cyrus latches onto that small nub, a single, thick, calloused finger slides inside my exposed flesh, stretching me, rubbing over that sensitive spot inside.
Once, twice, three times, my body convulses; a torrent of pleasure overwhelms me as I explode, moaning Cyrus’s name.
He doesn’t stop, not when I’m completely wrung out, not when my legs shake.
He continues to worship me until my body is weeping from release, until I wonder if I will die from the pleasure.
When he takes his last lap of me, my hips buck against him, begging for more.
My nipples ache as he slowly moves up my body.
I lean against the cold stone of the shower, my chest rising and falling.
Cyrus’s arm snakes around me, pinning me in place.
He catches my chin, lifting my face to his.
“Your body milking my finger, dripping on my chin, is a gift I will never forget. I’m going to wrap your legs around me now, and fuck you until that tight little pussy of yours only wants to come for me.
I’m going to enjoy my cock buried deep inside of you.
Can you do that for me, Fallon? Can that perfect little pussy of yours handle me? ”
His eyes hold such a promise of passion.
Slowly pulling a whimper from between my lips—I know how big Cyrus is, I know how good the pleasure is to have him buried deep within me.
My eyes close on their own accord as his massive hands grip my legs, lifting me, wrapping my legs around his hips.
He traps me between his body and the wall.
It’s all heat and cold stone, a combination that intensifies the sensations, driving me crazy.
The head of his cock probes my entrance. My eyes close, thick, round, mine. “Fallon, I want you to know this won’t be gentle. If I hurt you, tell me.” I can’t speak past the desire; my pussy is throbbing, hot, wet. Tears spring to my eyes. I need him inside me.
“Fallon, say you understand.”
“Gi-Give me everything- I want all of you, please.”
My words crumble his restraint. He pushes his hips in one deep thrust as he fills me.
I shudder around him, our bodies adjusting a second before he moves.
Thrusting again, stretching my body to accommodate him.
We groan together as he pulls almost all the way out, pulling a whimper from my lips, until he thrusts back inside me.
Long, hard strokes—he gives me everything, and my body does in fact weep for it.
Our slapping bodies echo around the bathroom.
He leans back, his thumb finding that small bundle of nerves between my legs.
Circling, in agonizing strokes as his cock pounds into me.
“Come on, baby, be a good girl and milk my cock with your pussy.” I do as he commands, my walls tightening around him, my body straining.
Our bodies bucking against one another. He leans forward, groaning his release into my shoulder.
We tumble over the edge together, both lost in one another’s pleasure. His lips brush against my shoulder as our bodies move in harmony. There’s no ignoring that this moment has changed us forever.