Chapter 39
Chapter Thirty-Nine
TALLY
My heart is racing as Cyrus leads me inside her room.
Of course I’ve been here before, but that was at a very different point in our… situationship.
Looking at the bed drives my heart rate up. Sure, it’s big enough to hold us both, but it’ll still be close quarters. There’s no way we wouldn’t accidentally end up touching at some point.
Why does that make the spot between my thighs pulse?
“You take the bed. I can sleep on the floor, if you want.”
Cyrus’s voice breaks me from staring at the plush bed. But words don’t come at all once I look at her. She looks nervous, brows scrunched and lower lip trapped between her teeth.
I’m not sure if her offering pisses me off, or makes me feel better.
She’s clearly trying to make me feel comfortable, by not sleeping in the bed with me. Or is she not sleeping in the bed because she doesn’t want to sleep next to me?
Urgh, brain, if you could shut off for a minute.
She turns away, looking almost embarrassed. It takes me another few seconds to realise I haven’t said anything at all.
I sigh, releasing the tension rising in my shoulders and decide to do the right thing for my heart. “Thank you.”
Kicking my boots off, I climb onto the bed.
Cyrus watches me move, a delicate red flush colouring the tops of her cheeks. When she clocks that she’s been caught staring, she clears her throat and looks away.
Awkwardly throwing her thumb over her shoulder, she says, “I’m just going to get some extra bedding, I’ll be right back.”
She doesn’t wait for a response before heading out the room and disappearing.
I can’t help sighing again. I’m confused. Everything’s confusing.
At the moment, I can’t control anything. Everything is slipping from my hands before I can even get a grasp on it.
The one thing I can control right now is going to sleep. Closing my eyes, I allow for the exhaustion from the last few months to take over.
Apparently, even sleeping I can’t control.
Cyrus was quiet when she came back, silently throwing blankets and pillows on the floor and curling up in them. Whilst I’ve tossed and turned and thrashed every thirty seconds.
My skin itches with the need for her to be closer. The fact she’s in the room but I can’t touch her is driving me insane. I seriously picked wrong by making her sleep on the floor. Fucking stupid idiot.
I’ve been at this for hours now.
Eyes pinging open, I stare at the dark ceiling, growling at the slight sunlight peering through the curtains.
And just because I can, I growl again, frustration nipping at my heels.
There’s a light groan from the floor, before I hear Cyrus sit up, blankets rustling around her. “Everything okay?” Her voice is gruff with sleep.
Why is that so damn hot?
I growl once more, before muttering, “I’m fine.”
She’s quiet for a moment, whilst I lay here sulking and glaring into shadows.
“Can’t sleep?” I hate how tender she sounds, like she actually gives a fuck. I hate how her voice is deep with exhaustion and sleepiness. And I really fucking hate how much I want her in this bed with me right now.
“Just get in the fucking bed,” I force out.
Silence.
There’s not even the edge of her breath skating out.
It’s only making me more irritated. I’m mad at everything and nothing.
There’s nothing in this room to really be mad at.
Yet there’s everything in this room to be pissed at.
My confusion is making me mad. Everything on the island is making me mad.
Cyrus being within touching distance but not touching me is really driving me fucking mad.
And her sleep deprived voice is making me want to break.
More growls threaten to break through as my hands form fists beneath the sheets. I’m prepared to go into a full blown temper tantrum. Or jump her bones. I don’t fucking know.
“You want me to get into the bed?”
Oh for fuck sakes.
“For crying out loud, get up here. Now.”
The command works. Within seconds, Cyrus is climbing up onto the bed and sliding under the covers beside me.
She takes a second to get comfortable, laying on her back and laying as straight as possible.
My fists uncurl, even as frustration still claws away at me. Her heat slowly seeps into my side, warming me. It’s a sensation that I’ve sincerely missed, one that will never be replicated by another person. This feeling only works with her.
I want to curl into her, instead I hold back.
I let my feelings be known, she knows where I stand, but I don’t know where she stands.
“Is this okay?” She asks, and I want to scream no.
Instead, I say, “Yeah.”
Forcing my eyes closed and simply enjoying her presence next to me. Slowly, the irritation and madness dissipates and the night falls away with it.
Sunlight filters in, warming my back as I bury my face closer into my pillow, not ready to wake up yet.
A soft groan radiates beneath me, vibrating through my cheek bone. A gentle weight rests around my shoulder and waist, squeezing softly, pulling me closer into the pillow. Which once again isn’t a pillow, but Cyrus’s chest.
Boobs really do make the best pillows, don’t they?
I sigh into her shirt. I shouldn’t be surprised I moved in my sleep to cuddle with her.
The arms around me tighten incrementally, as I burrow further into the boobs that work as my pillows. How I wish I could wake up like this every day.
Her sea salt scent envelopes me, my thighs dampening immediately.
I shouldn’t want to, I shouldn’t need to.
But I both want and need her.
My hips rut forwards of their own accord, bashing into hers in search of friction. I feel Cyrus’s nose press into my crown and lips grazing kisses over the strands at the top of my head.
“Morning.” She mumbles into my scalp, laying more kisses there. She’s so soft and gentle and pliant, I want to give her orders.
My hips cant forward once more and she muffles a chuffing laugh in my hair.
Can I really just say fuck it and have sex with her once more? Or will it only damage my heart even deeper?
With the way her fingers skim over my skin and lips continue leaving kisses over my head, I know it’ll hurt, but I need one more. Just the chance at once more.
“One more time. Then we never touch each other again,” I rasp out.
Cyrus stills for a moment, not even her exhales hit my skin, before she sighs. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”
“One more time.” The words are certain, more certain than I actually feel.
“Then tell me what you want me to do.”
The words leave her in a rush, as if she can’t believe this is happening, like she wants to touch me as much as I want to touch her.
I clear my throat as my hips gyrate once again without control. “Pull up my dress, pull off my undergarments and let me fuck your thigh.” She groans, low and deep, throaty and still sleepy as she quickly gets to work removing my clothing from the situation.
A tear ripples through the room as a flash of cold air hits my wet pussy.
She ripped my underwear!
“Did you just… rip my undergarments off?” I stammer, both shock and lust fighting for dominance in my middle.
Cyrus guides my thigh over hers, inserting her hip right where I need it. “I thought you wanted them off?”
I plan on saying something witty, maybe sarcastic, instead she silences me by pulling my leg and perfectly grinding my clit over her hip. Instead of a comeback she gets a deep moan.
The hand wrapped around my back flies to my backside, grabbing her pound of flesh and pushing me to grind over her.
Instinctively my hips move, grinding my clit over her hip bone, leaving a trail of my slick all over her skin.
A sick sense of happiness comes from that.
Knowing she’ll be covered in me. Even if this will never happen again.
Moans pour from my throat and get lost in Cyrus’s chest.
My orgasm is clawing away at my stomach already. The need to come all over Cyrus is heady. Just the thought of it being her drives me even closer to the edge. Hell, I’m fucked. I shouldn’t be using her to get off.
I’m never going to get over her, not when every ounce of my arousal is linked to her.
She fists my arse, tightening her hold and deepening the grind against her hip. Pleasure zips down my spine, coiling tight and low in my stomach.
My breath saws out of me, the fabric of Cyrus’s shirt sliding over my cheek.
Her chest vibrates with a pleased hum as my noises shift from moans to high pitched whines. Her hands move my hips faster, taking over my movements, drawing closer and closer until the dam is about to break.
Lips dance across my hair again, the action carving a path directly to my heart. She’s done it so often over the course of the last few days, the thought of going without again is devastating.
With a kiss to my crown, she whispers, “Come for me, love.”
And I shatter.
Crying out into Cyrus’s shirt, pleasure racking my bones as I fall apart. My wetness coats Cyrus’s hip and thigh as my hips relentlessly hump over her, until my soul returns back to my body.
The fabric under my face is damp from my tears and drool. I don’t care, I bury my face deeper, soaking in the warmth and slowly catch my breath from the first decent orgasm I’ve had since Cyrus left.
I’ve not been with anyone else since. My heart not wanting to sleep with anyone else, not even attracted to another person. My hand has become my best friend over the last few months, but not once have I come as hard as I just did on Cyrus. It wasn’t even that exciting of a time.
Cyrus didn’t even come.
She didn’t even come.
Finally I move my head, lifting it to catch Cyrus’s eyes. Her eyes crinkle with amusement, a gentle smile curling one edge of her mouth. The hand on my thigh reaches for my cheek, brushing away the wetness she finds. Then she’s standing up as she manoeuvres me until my head rests on a pillow.
She walks away, heading into a small room connecting to hers, Her shirt just barely covering her backside and the soaking mess I left behind. Returning a few seconds later with a fresh washcloth.
When she’s in front of me, she gently opens my thighs and drags the cloth over them, cleaning me up in the most gentle of ways.
I want to cry from the tenderness, squinting my eyes as if that will keep the tears at bay.
She finishes cleaning me, throwing the washcloth somewhere in the room.
“I’ll find you some clean undergarments to wear.” When I nod, she walks over to a chest of drawers, rummaging through it until she finds some to give to me.
I hold my hand out, a clear sign of ‘hand them over’.
Instead she ignores my outstretched palm and glides the material over my feet herself; dancing her finger tips over the skin of my calves and palming my thighs before sliding them in place.
Her touch just on the teasing side, a little too much after I’ve just come.
Now, I want her to rip them off all over again.
Her face flickers, soundlessly mouthing words.
She wants to say something, probably the same thing she’s been wanting to say since she got here, yet still hasn’t figured out the right words to say. I can’t listen to her apologies again, can’t listen to her rejection again. Not after she just made me come again.
“Tally, I– can we–”
I cut her off, unwilling to hear it. “It’s never happening again.”
Cyrus’s face contorts with a wince before she nods, her face twisting in pained acceptance. “I understand that, but can we–”
I push up off the bed, cutting her off, as my body decides between fight or flight.
I know it’ll choose flight over fight when it comes to Cyrus, because I can’t hear anything else from her right now.
My brain is working over time coming up with too many scenarios of what she might say to me, none of which are good.
Without realising, I make it to the door, hand already decompressing the handle. “I said, it’s never happening again. End of conversation.”
I don’t wait for her reaction. I just leave.