Page 84 of One Secret

'Okay, baby...' Cyrus readjusts his weight above me. 'One last ride.'

'Yes,' I want him to cum. Need him to release inside me. I need that balm, that moment of reciprocity.

I can barely see, I can barely speak. I can only hold on for the madness as Cyrus sets a new pace. His pattern abandoned and his glacial beginnings lost, Cyrus doesn't wait to build his momentum. This time, his thrusts are hard and merciless from the outset. He takes hold of my hips, digs his fingerprints into my skin, and pounds long, hard, and deep. His entire length, from thick root to tapering stem draws back. Before his full shaft buries tight and deep.

Over and again.

'Oh God,' I cry, unable to stay quiet this time. 'Fuck, Cyrus...'

'One more time, baby,'

'No, I can't,' I cry. Head flailing, I abandon the bed leg and dig my nails into his ass. 'I don't have any more—'

'Yes, you do,' he pants. 'One more for me. Together now.'

'Fuck!'

We come together, the universe slipping on its axis, the pleasure ripping through my body out of this world. My inner walls shudder and cling, my body freezes rigid and then shakes uncontrollably. My vision is gone and my chest cries out for air. The next thing I know, the world is black and I'm slipping into a realm of inky nothing, feeling more sated and more complete than I've ever felt before…

11

It takes a minute for Darcy to come around. By the time she does, she's surrounded by a cocoon of fine linens and my body heat. Her back fits flush against my front. I can feel her heartbeat thrumming through her torso and into my chest; a strong and regular thump.

'When did I get on the bed?' she finally mumbles sleepily.

Despite the satisfied rush still humming in my veins, I find myself a little nervous over her reaction as she stirs further into the realm of consciousness...

'I thought it would be more comfortable up here,' I say, sliding an arm under her waist so that I can wrap her in closer against me.

'You were the genius who decided on the floor,' she accuses.

My nerves twitch.

'You're complaining?' I keep my tone carefully even.

Darcy then makes the most glorious noise I've ever heard: a delicious and contented sigh, as she fits herself snuggly between my arms.

'Not for a second,' she vows before burrowing her butt up against my groin. Had I not just spent myself to exhaustion, I'd be instantly hard again. Instead, all that my anatomy can manage are sated little sparks of energy tingling along my shaft.

Holding Darcy close, I inhale, not realizing until her shampoo hits my nose that I'm smelling her hair. Smelling her.

I don't recall when I became such a fucking pansy but, equally, I have no real strength to worry about it.

I have no watch but it feels like hours before Darcy speaks again. Hours in which I just feel her presence and witness her existence in the world... Feel that heartbeat against mine.

'I wasn't flirting with him,' she finally whispers, once we're long into the witching hour.

'What?' I try and corral my thoughts back into focus.

'I wasn't flirting with Rocco. At least... not in the way you were thinking.'

I don't like the subject change. As far as my post-coital brain is concerned, men like Rocco have no place here in this room. Some archaic instinct is annoyed at having its territory invaded, even conceptually. I'm stiff to budge when Darcy tries to pull free of my embrace.

'Let me just get something...' she complains, nudging at my arms.

My fingers splay possessively over her flat little belly as she stretches for the edge of the bed.

'You're coming right back?' I sigh, lamenting the inches between us.

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