Page 57 of One Secret

Gripping his shoulders, my nails in his skin, I snare my leg around his hips and urge him onwards.

Cyrus hooks his elbow under my knee and lifts my leg clear of the water. Droplets rush over my foot, down from my heel, and jingle as they hit the ebbing tide. I brace my other calf around his thigh and hang on his body, arching my back and pushing up against that hard shaft of his. Water rushes up between us with every thrust. His skin becomes slick.

My shorts are waterlogged and heavy around my waist. I hardly notice the way Cyrus shifts and pulls at the fabric. Only when the rush of cool sea hits fresh skin do I realize he's pushed aside my bikini panties.

A second later, his finger is inside me.

'Oh... Oh, yes...' I praise, shoving down against his hand. That finger is long and thick and my walls close down around it. I thrust harder, then slow. 'Please...'

Cyrus knows what I want. After months of bringing each other to the brink of sanity with our sexual teasing, he knows what I like, what sends my craving to its most pleasurable edge.

He knows what drives me wild.

Using one arm to keep me balanced in the water, Cyrus tilts his hand to the right angle and starts to rub hard and fast... My world instantly explodes.

'Shit!' I cry. 'Oh God, Cyrus...'

I don't cum. But his touch works me into a frenzy so white hot that it's like I'm riding an orgasmic peak. One that never comes down.

With his thumb, Cyrus is working my clit without mercy. With his finger, he curls up against the inner side of that same nub of nerves and doubles the assault.

My body begins to shake. My gaze flickers white.

'Fuck!'

As soon as my legs shoot straight and my toes reach for the sun, Cyrus fills me with another of those heavy fingers of his, stretching me wider and sending me higher. For a second, it's painful: but a sweet, teasing pain that I need far, far more of.

I curse. I cry out. I abandon myself entirely to the sensation of being finger-fucked by a man who knows exactly what he's doing. Cyrus plays me like a fine, erotic instrument. One he can make screech, scream and sing to perfect melody.

I thrust against his hand. I scratch at his back.

'Need...' I gasp.

Cyrus is just as out of breath, his pupils blown wide and dark, his lips parted on heavy, desperate exhales.

'What do you need baby...?' he drawls, getting off on his own power-trip now. I don't care. So long as he keeps making me feel this way, he can have all the power: a benevolent, erotic god of the sea.

'I need... I need to fuck. Oh God, I need to cum...'

I scream as he slams those fingers of his deeper.

'You want it right now?' he taunts.

'Yes!' I beg. Then swallow and change my mind. 'No!'

Cyrus has both my legs in the air now, my back against a smooth slope of glassy stone, my thighs parted wide and wanton.

'No more fucking games, Darcy...' he warns. 'I'm too raw to deal with that shit. This is gonna be damn quick as it is.'

With his back to the sun, Cyrus is like an epic statue of ebony. Hard and dangerous. Just the sight of him sends shivers through me.

And when he brushes past my clitoral hood and touches raw nerve those shivers become earthquakes.

'Oh God!' I cry, shudders ripping through me. 'Do that again...!'

'Answer me, Darcy...' he demands. Still fucking me with his hand, he takes my nipple in his mouth and sucks down hard. I cry out.

'I need you. I want you,' I scramble to grab hold of those vast shoulders of his, to pull him in closer. 'Cyrus, please...'

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