Cyrus
Chapter forty
Bikini Bottoms the intent unmistakable. Her body reacts before she can tamper it down, the goosebumps breaking out across her skin, are contradictory to the heat.
“You’re awfully quiet, Fallon.”
She arches her toes into the small pool below her the rock she’s perched on, flinging cold droplets across me. “Aren’t you supposed to be fishing, Chief?”
I grin, moving right up between her legs, close enough to catch how she sucks in a sharp breath. My palms grip onto her waist, pulling her flush against me. Those fucking legs, the ones I’ve been craving to run my hands over, wrap around my hips. I almost fucking lose it. Her body was made for me.
“I am fishing,” I murmur.
As my lips crash into hers. It’s not sweet. It’s not polite.
It’s punishment.
It’s devastating.
It’s us—every unvoiced sentiment, every concealed emotion, every night I stayed awake wondering what might have been if circumstances hadn’t driven us apart.
My mouth slants over hers, tongue parting her lips, my hands move to frame her delicate face, I am conquering her, her heart, her soul. She is mine.
Her nails grip my shoulders. Needing something, anything, to anchor us.
Frustrated, pushed by a need I am unable to escape.
I lift her up, sliding us both fully onto the rock, I fully acknowledge that I am about to have this woman in broad daylight, outside.
But, I’m too busy drowning in the taste of her to care.
The fabric slides over her soft skin as I drag the thin bikini bottom down. She’s already soaked for me. My mouth finds the curve of her hip, her thigh, the spot that makes her back arch, a moan ripping from her lips.
“Cyrus-” her voice catches, legs trembling around me.
“If you tell me to stop,” I murmur against her skin. “I swear, Fallon, I will not make it out of this river alive.”
She fists my hair instead, dragging me closer. “Don’t you fucking dare.”
I growl, burying my mouth on her, tasting her, feasting on her. I nip, suck, and lap at her body until her thighs clamp around my head and her orgasm crashes into her, coating my tongue. Her body’s nectar the sweetest thing I have ever had.
But I’m not done.
I strip the rest of her suit, every soft curve of her body igniting my need for her more.
I tug on the drawstring of my trunks, the material dropping as my cock springs free.
I rise over her, spreading her thighs. I lean back on my knees to watch the head of my cock rest at her entrance.
I groan as I slide all the way in. Freezing as I watch her mouth pop open with a moan.
I never want to forget this moment. Her tight little body tugs on my cock, milking it in a way that makes me want to combust before I get another stroke in.
God, I forgot how amazing she felt under me.
I grip her thighs, the heat of her skin seeping into me as I begin to thrust. This woman is my salvation and utter damnation; she has ruined me.
Tears well in the corner of her eyes, and I reach down to wipe away the one that escapes.
As I have a million times before, something in my chest fractures knowing I’m the root of her pain.
Lifting my finger to my mouth, I taste the salty tear before I drop my thumb between our bodies.
Gently causing friction as I stroke in and out of her body. Her soft moans unraveling me.
Her body tightens around me, closer to the edge and I give her the long strokes she’s begging for, refusing to stop. A flush blooms across her skin, the rise and fall of her chest giving her away. We move together, cresting that high, riding the euphoric wave of climaxing together.
I don’t move.
It’s physically impossible.
My soul is tethered to hers.
She’s mine.
Only mine.
She’s wrapped around me like a prayer—warm, insistent, the familiar shape that calms my soul and steals every splintered piece of me. Her hair sifts over my collarbone; the scent of laundry and summer clings to it.
I brush a kiss against her temple, leisurely as I imprint this moment to my memory forever.
“Fallon?” I say her name with the reverence it inspires from me.
“Mm?” Her voice is thick with drowsiness, an arm laid over her eyes, her body splayed out beneath me, a warm smile playing at her lips. There’s no one else I could ever put in the place I have reserved for her; she dominates that space in my heart. She is the one I want, always.
“I’m not even close to being finished with you.”
The promise leaves my mouth low and deliberate, leaving no room for her pretty little head to doubt it. Slow and steady isn’t enough—I want fast, reckless, undeniable. I want her swept up in the same reckless hunger that consumes me whenever we’re together.
The soft laugh that escapes from those succulent lips, dares me to mean it, my promise, my vow.
I rock my hips forward pulling a sound from her that sends shivers right down to my dick and it’s all permission that I need.
The corner of my lip ticks up as I take note of the moment it dawns on her I’m ready again and in perfect position to take her.
Emerald eyes flare, as her arm that was covering her eyes comes up to trace the stubble over my jawline.
The moan that tears from her lips as I rotate the head of my cock at her entrance has my balls tightening already.
I have to get a grip, or I’ll be blowing way too early.
There’s something about her that drives me mad.
I pull away from her, briefly, needing her to feel as lost as I am.
Her whimper tightens my dick more, my balls become borderline uncomfortable.
“Don’t stop,” she begs, her green eyes deepening with her pleading.
I pause, taking her in, wanting to remember every inch of her forever.
Flushed skin, tight rosy nipples, the freckles that dot across her skin.
The way her chest rises and falls with anticipation.
She’s beautiful—she’s perfect—she’s mine.
No, I won’t stop. Not now. Not ever.
“Hold tight, baby, I’m never not going to want you.”
I let the promise settle in the spaces between us, in the quiet that follows her panting, and for once, I don’t try to fix anything between us. I live in this moment with her as I softly grip her thigh and slide all the way home.