Page 36 of Our Little Cliche

Chapter Thirty-Five

HOLLY

Had I known this is what foreplay feels like, I would have gone hunting for it a long time ago. My skin feels like it’s engulfed in flames, even though I’m merely doing what I’ve been doing every night since I met Cyrus. But this time I’m doing it in front of him .

He’s watching my every swirl with heavy, hungry eyes while I read for him.

This is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.

I don’t know how, or why, but I don’t feel the need to hide from him like I thought I would.

Like I was moments ago. Scratch that. I do know why—Cyrus has the ability to control my mind, body and soul. Yet I’m the one in charge.

Even with him telling me what to do with my body, it’s not for him, for his needs. It’s for me. I feel so incredibly free. I’ve been in control of writing my own story this whole time, he’s just been guiding me there— like the good author he is .

This is my new beginning.

This is our beginning.

Cyrus is my author now, and I’d gladly let him write our story on my skin with his white web of love.

Through my heavy breaths I read aloud to my best potential.

I want him to pay very close attention to what I’m about to say.

“He slowly pushes up the covers to reveal her glistening wetness. She sleeps solidly as he lifts his balaclava, then traces the edges of her soft skin with his tongue, right from her ankles, along her thigh?—”

“Holly…” Cyrus’s pining low tone interrupts me.

I look away from the page to him while swiping the tip of my finger along the wet entrance and back to the bud. His hand runs behind his neck and tilts it to release the tension. I answer him, knowing that me going off script has caught his attention. “Yes?”

Sexual frustration radiates from his body, and it makes the grin that has been threatening to crease my lips for too long finally show.

I have to take my hat off to him for being as resilient as he is.

Seeing me so exposed and ready for him must be excruciating, but I get the feeling he’s saving himself for something special.

While I’m unconscious.

“What are you reading?”

“Oh, you know, seeing as you’re writing a book about you and me, I thought I could try being an author too. But mine’s more of a screenplay than a novel,” I smile, slowing my movements to catch my breath.

“I see. So in your… act , you will stay unclothed for me?”

“Yes.”

“And in my scene, I’m in the balaclava?”

“ Definitely .” I nod.

“Hmm. You’ve really thought this through, haven’t you?”

“I’ve only been playing this scene in my head every night since I read your book.

It’s your fault that I want you to touch me in ways I’ve never been touched before.

And your fault that I want you to do your best at doing your worst,” I confess, no blushing, no shame, and no holding back.

I have never flirted a day in my life, and it’s coming out of my mouth like hot lava.

I can confidently say it’s not the wine— it’s him .

“I can do that.” He cocks his brow.

“Do you have condoms?”

“Yes. I’ve also had a vasectomy.”

Hallelujah! I’ll praise whatever doctor I need to for this miracle, another layer of protection. I mean, I’d love to be a mother, more than anything in the world. But not today. Although…

Curiosity spikes me, and I almost choke on my words, nearly losing the confidence to say them but manage to spit it out under one breath. “Do you mind if I ask you not to wear one when we fuck?”

“If that’s what you want, then yes. May I ask why?”

“I want to know what it feels like.”

“You want to know how I feel when I cum inside you?”

“Yes, very much so.”

“Holly. There is never a day that goes by where you don’t amaze me. So, this screenplay… where am I dragging my tongue to and from again?”

“My ankle to my thigh…”

“Show me. Show me where you want to be touched.” The way he says it makes my heart flutter.

I keep one hand over my pussy, keeping a slow momentum while the other runs a line with my index finger slowly from my inner ankle, upward along my calf muscle to the sensitive area of my thigh before stopping right at the crease of my labia, not once taking my eyes from him.

“Noted. And how would you like me to fuck you?”

Holy fuck.

“Despicably,” I drawl the word.

“Despicably hard or slow?”

I think about his question for a moment. Given the outline of his cock, I think I might need a warm up. “I think slow at first. Then I want everything you’ve got.”

“ Everything… ” Cyrus blows out a chest full of air as if in disbelief, making me second guess my answer. I’ll be able to handle it, won’t I? “You’re a heavy sleeper, what if you don’t wake up?”

“Then fuck me harder until I do.”

What.

The.

Fuck.

“Jesus,” he whimpers. “I desperately want to shove my cock down your throat right now. Look at what you’re doing to me,” he stands, tugging the elastic at the gray sweatpants down and freeing his?—

FUCKING HELL.

I would have to say cocks aren’t the most attractive things in the world, but as it stands to attention for my gaze, it is absolute perfection.

It’s thick, and a dangerous length. It hasn’t a single hair in sight, tinged with a hue of pink from the blood pumping it hard, pulsating with the need to make my pussy swell. The veins thicken the longer I stare.

“But I also want to listen to what that pretty little mouth has to say about what my next move is, so please, keep reading ,” he says, snapping his pants back up, and sits back down.

Am I drooling?

“With pleasure… literally,” I smirk, picking up the pace around my clit without taking my eyes off of his. “He pulls his gray sweatpants down until they hit the floor, then continues the same pattern as before with his tongue until he reaches the edge of her pussy.”

“Good girl, keep going,” he coaxes my orgasm closer.

Holy fuck, say that again.

“He makes long, slow movements from her entrance to the top of her clit, careful as to not wake her. He retreats to plant her flavors on her lips for her to relish what desire for him tastes like, leaning in such a way it nudges his cock at her core.” The sentence is hard to string out now that ecstasy is lingering on the tip of my finger. Oh, god. So close.

“Inch by inch he eases into her, groaning her name until she stirs,” Cyrus chimes in, adding a piece to the story. Yes. Yes please . “Finger yourself, Holly. Imagine the way it will feel when I fill you up.”

I put the book down since I’m not reading it anyway, and spread my legs even further.

With one hand I keep my fingers rotating over my very swollen, needy bud, and insert two fingers inside with the other.

“ Oh , my… fffff- uck .” The sounds that project from my mouth are not ones I’m familiar with.

Total uncharted territory.

It’s… freeing.

“He picks up the pace when her beautiful arctic eyes beam back at him with adrenaline and lust. It’s a tight fit, but he pushes through the resistance, bringing her climax to its edge.” The words are nothing but a breath.

“That’s it, a little faster now.” Oh, my god . I don’t know how but he can tell that I’m seconds from folding like a fucking $5 Kmart deck chair. “I know you’re close, just keep breathing through it.”

Breathe?

How do I do that? In… out…

Yes. In, out, in, out.

I have never been so incredibly aroused in my life, and not just because I’m moments from an orgasm.

This is far deeper than that. I feel like I’m unshackling.

As if I’ve just discovered that I’ve been locked up.

Gated. Not that Cyrus is the one unlocking me, but rather showing me I’ve possessed the key this whole time.

Instinctively, I close my eyes, rolling my head back against the sofa to focus and bring my orgasm to its peak. Slowly, but surely the pressure builds, and I curl my fingers in a come here motion against the knot that’s my bingo button.

“Open your eyes, angel. I want to see the way you look when you come for me, thinking of all the things you want me to do to you.”

I comply, then like a crack of fireworks exploding in the sky, that’s all it takes: his god damn sexy voice hitches a ride in my veins like oxygen to my brain, forcing my orgasm to detonate and my body to quiver in a ground-shaking finale.

Another creeps in after it, doubling the already demanding sensations, and I leap into another fitful orgasm without once taking my eyes from Cyrus. And then another, and another until exhaustion wipes me completely.

Soft kisses tickle my forehead, and Cyrus drapes the blanket from the floor over my knees and holds a bottle of water at my lips. “Mmm,” I croak, sipping a few gulps. I try to regain my thoughts but I’m barely able to hold myself up let alone think. I feel so weak. Undone. “I. You. That was…”

Well, I don’t know what that was.

I’ve never had more than one orgasm in a row before, even though I’m not exactly a stranger to touching myself. But something tells me that it won’t be the last— not if he can help it.

“Shh. Drink. Rest.”