Page 37 of Our Little Cliche

Chapter Thirty-Six

CYRUS

“Come on, I got you.” I cloak Holly with my body. She can barely keep her eyes open, much less walk to her room, so being the rugged gentleman I am, I carry her to her room.

To have seen her not break eye contact while her whole world quaked around her with not one, not two, but four orgasms, is a gift like no other.

The amount of adoration I have for her right now is overflowing.

Words can’t even begin to describe how much I admire her for allowing her body to be free, and open.

Four. Fucking. Orgasms.

All I had to do was sit there and talk her through it. Something I’ve never done or thought I’d ever experience. And what’s more, is that she will sleep soundly— perfect for tonight.

“Wrap your arms around me, Holly,” I whisper. My solid, hounding erection is proving to make it difficult to maneuver without the thought of it snapping off.

She weakly drapes her arms around the crease of my neck with a cute little mmm sound, cradling her face into my chest. Heat radiates around my heart holding her against me like this, lost in time as I watch her lashes flutter for the last time, taking refuge in the land of slumber.

A doting grin pulls my cheeks back, there is not a mountain I couldn’t climb with her in my arms like this.

I tuck her under the covers—still unclothed, just the way her little story instructed—and kiss her forehead before dimming the lights, and heading to my room where I will spend the next several hours pinching myself. Probably psyching myself up so I don’t chicken out.

And this was all her idea.

Dia-fucking-bolical .

My leg quivers as I sit on the edge of the footboard in nothing but my boxers, toying with the mask in my hands, mustering the confidence to walk down that corridor and sneak into her room. I can feel the beads of sweat lingering at my forehead. How can I be this much of a mess?

What if I get it all wrong?

Hold on, what am I talking about? I’m an author—I’ve played this scene in my head ten times over with my eyes closed and my hands tied behind my back, and written it twice on paper. I know exactly what I’m doing. And all I need to remember is her words, her instructions. Her screenplay.

Step 1: Lift blanket, stay hidden behind the mask.

Step 2: Tongue, ankle, thighs, then pussy.

Step 3: Kiss her softly, then insert dick.

Step 4: Fuck her soft, then hard.

Step 5 the most important: If she doesn’t wake up, fuck her until she does.

Nerves aside, I digress, slipping on my balaclava and putting my glasses over the top.

Oh, great.

You look like an absolute fucking idiot , I say to myself looking in the mirror.

Shaking my head, I place the glasses on the counter and make my way down the corridor.

It’s almost pitch black. Just barely light enough to see where I’m going without my glasses on, but dark enough to keep everything a mystery.

My heart pounds with excitement and diffidence with each step, and I can’t believe this is actually about to happen.

I talked up a big game, but now I actually have to play it.

I hope she likes the mask. It’s nothing special but I only had it to wear under my skeleton one when I was the Grim Reaper on Halloween, pacing the streets on a hoverboard and throwing candy at kids.

I hope she likes the way I touch her.

I hope she likes the way I fill her.

I hope I’m exactly what she imagined.

I swallow seeing the silhouette of Holly’s body under the duvet… in a deep state of unconsciousness. She’s exactly how I left her, even her hair is still loosely splayed along the pillow.

My tongue darts over my lips with anticipation standing at the end of her bed. I slowly take off the covers, leaving only the sheet on top. When I peel it back I can see the glisten of her pussy from earlier, shimmering under the dim corridor light.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Holly doesn’t stir when I rest my knee at the edge of the bed, so I lean closer, lifting the edge of my mask just above my lips. I hover my mouth at her ankle, then flatten my tongue and begin a seamless trail up the inside of her calf, over the edge of her knee.

Fuck.

I could cum right now.

I gaze up at her through my lashes while I follow the line along her thigh. She stirs, her back pivoting slightly when I reach the seam between her labia and leg, but softens again to an almost peaceful state.

The calm before the storm.

Her sweet, soft lips let out a gentle breath, remaining miles apart in another universe, completely unaware that I’m about to fill her with everything I’ve got and more.

The scent of her core hovering under my nose puts me in some kind of way, and I don’t know if it’s goddamn dangerous or exciting.

On that note, I float back down, savoring the way her skin feels and tastes on my tongue as I repeat the same process on the other leg, but this time with a much different motive… possession .

Blindly, my hand finds its way to the top of her soft stomach, using it to ground myself as I drag my tongue along her warm, wet core, then swirling once around her clit.

Fireworks explode in my brain as Holly’s taste wreaks havoc in my mouth, short circuiting every possible thought I could possess.

She makes a subtle hum from her chest, raising her breasts to the ceiling, but again, doesn’t wake.

This is so depraved.

But so fucking right.

Her skin bundles in my grip as I tighten it over her belly and waist, my thumb digging into the groove of her pelvic bone.

I make long, slow swirls over the clit again with my tongue, then insert a finger.

Her back arches once more to the intrusion, and her breath escalates into a near whimper.

I pause, certain that she would wake this time, but when I look up her eyes are closed and her body softens once more.

I feed the sheet back down under me before pulling it over my back so we are both under it, and release my aching cock from my boxers before creeping on all fours over her body. I swallow the lump in my throat as I hover at her entrance, feeling the heat against the head of my cock.

Shit.

Shit, shit. Easy, Stone. It’s hard not to cum right here and now, but I collect myself, planting several gentle kisses on her forehead, then her cheeks, finishing at her lips, sucking the bottom one in a little before pulling my mask back down.

I nudge the head of my bare cock inside, and her sleepy body squirms, matching my needy, raddled breath.

Holy fuck.

I clench my jaw with a groan to hold back.

I’m inside an unconscious woman.

I am submerged in what feels like the fucking heaven I’ve been aching for, and all I want to do is spill everything I’ve got inside of her so fucking hard it would leave a permanent marking. Like etching stone.

MINE.

So incredibly fucking mine .

I watch her body react as I ease in further, her lashes fluttering and a sharp breath drawing in. Just when I think it couldn’t get any better she tilts her hips for more of me. I bear down, but nowhere near my maximum capacity, pausing to allow her time to adjust.

Holly’s perfect blue eyes blink at me sleepily, but blissful. “Merry Christmas, angel,” I whisper, my voice muffled under the mask.

“Cyrus… I need…” Her sweet pleading halts as I push a little deeper. “ Fuck .”

This woman has no idea what she does to me. I don’t even want to exist without her by my side.

I don’t want to be in this house, unless she’s in it.

I don’t want to write another book, unless she’s in it.

I don’t want to leave this house, unless she’s by my side.

I have no desire to eat unless she’s eating with me. I don’t even want to breathe unless it’s her vapor that I’m drawing in.

What is that?

Obsession, or madness?

All of it. I am madly, truly, and utterly obsessed with Holly Cate—my girl.

My fucking woman.

“Yes, baby? Tell me what you need.”

“More. Please . I want all of you.” Her plea burns my skin.

Fuck.

“My fucking pleasure.” The words are all I need to shove into her with almost everything I have, all without a slither of mercy.