Page 73 of Our Little Cliche
Uh-oh, what’s that look for?
I gasp when he grips my ankles with a shit eating grin on his face, flipping me onto my belly like I’m a rag doll, then yanks me to the edge of the bed so that my feet hang off the side.
“Do you trust me?” I’m unable to place if it’s a question or a dare.
Without hesitation I answer truthfully, though myyescomes out as a groan. “Mhmm.”
“Hmm,” he utters disapprovingly as his hands glide up my thighs, then props my ass up with a pillow under my hips before retreating. He moves slowly, and sensually. It’s lethally erotic to not know what he’s going to do from one moment to the next. The soft, leisurely touch of his fingers on my skin as they trail back down to my ankles is gentle, yet I know that the strength of how he will fill me again won’t be. “I’ll try that again…”
My knees stay at the edge of the bed while he bends them so that my heels press up as close to my ass as possible. I’m pinned down. Completely vulnerable for the taking.
His taking.
“Do you trust me?” Cyrus repeats.
“Yes.”
Immense pressure chokes me as he enters me at full force from behind, much deeper and with more possession than the last. It’s heavenly. It’s like each position he has already put me in is practice for the next, leaving me feeling full, swollen, and so incrediblyclaimed.
“Then cum for me, Holly.”
“Oh, fuck.”Fuck!The pressure that had been building inside my core erupts the second his words soar over my skin like a command, and I shudder into something I can only describe as a chemical explosion.
Sending me further than oblivion.
His groans coax the muscles of my pussy to wrap around him, clenching, and gripping his length during my orgasm. Then I feel it… his hot cum filling me, climaxing with me until his arms cannot bear his weight any more.
Holy fucking shit.
Blinking into the light of morning, I feel the sunlight flutter against my eyelashes. I feel warm. Roasting, even, wrapped in the sheets with Cyrus—who is sleeping soundly beside me.
…Yeah.
This.
This is where I want to call home.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
CYRUS
“Are you alright?”I ask Holly who currently has my hand in a death grip while we wait by the counter to make our way onto the plane. I remember her telling me she hated flying, but I didn’t think she was this terrified. When she doesn’t respond I pull back to cup my hand around her head, pulling her against my chest. “Here, just rest your head on me.”
Life could simply not get any better than this.
Life is good.
Life isexactlywhere it’s supposed to be.
I have a gorgeous soul by my side about to travel with me to the Hickett Signing in Vancouver, who for the last week hasn’t been able to keep her hands to herself for longer than thirty seconds. To be fair, neither have I. We have both just been completely infatuated with each other.Inseparable.
I sigh, internally scrutinizing myself over everything that could go wrong at the singing and the Gala, knowing there’s one tiny obstacle.
Quinn Potleigh.
I don’t know how we’re going to manage to get through this trip without raising his alarm bells. I’m always up for achallenge, butthis? …This will be like wearing a tight leash. This event is our first time in public together since I took her to grab lunch on her second or third day working for me. We just don’t know how to be in public without looking at each other with googly eyes.
I don’t like the idea of having to treat my girl like just someone I work with.An employee. Holly thinks she’s the one who’s going to fuck up, but what about me? I can barely look at her without getting a raging hard on, or wanting to pick her up and hoist her above me like that scene in Dirty Dancing, and just squish her cheeks and tell her?—
