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“Yes,” I pant, my nerves disappearing under the onslaught of desire that I’m feeling. Right now, I want to beg him not to stop.
“I’m going to lay on that bed, Carol and then you’re going to climb over my body.”
“I am?” I gasp, the erotic picture that he’s painting dances through my mind.
“You’re going to sit on my face, feed me that juicy little cunt of yours and ride it until you get what you need.”
“Cyrus,” I gasp his words causing me to tremble and grow impossibly wetter. He gets on the bed, his gaze on me the entire time.
“Now, mi corazón,” he orders. I feel as if my entire body is trembling with a mixture of nerves and hunger. I wonder if he can see it, and I pray he can’t. I don’t know a lot about Cyrus—which is probably adding to my nerves—but I’m sure that he’s used to much more sophisticated women than I am. I gently get on the bed, my hands slapping down on the mattress on either side of him to keep from face planting against his cock. It’s a fact that doesn’t slip by Cyrus as he grins up at me. I move up his body, like he ordered, moaning as his cock brushes against the dripping lips of my pussy. My head drops down to look at the small space between our bodies and I see Cyrus’s hand wrapped around his cock, pushing it against my center. I swallow as my entire body hums with need. I watch Cyrus stroke his cock before I slowly bring my gaze back to him.
“If you don’t get on my face soon, Carol, I’m just going to fuck you and that would deprive us both I think.”
I lick my lips and when I get close to where he wants me, he grabs my hips and adjusts me exactly where he needs me. Where I need to be. I feel him holding the lips of my pussy apart, and then his tongue sliding through my wetness flattening out against me. I moan, my eyes nearly rolling back in my head as pleasure slices through me. His hands grab my ass, his fingers biting into the fleshy mounds and he pulls me down against his face and begins eating at my pussy. I’ve never known anything like it, never knew it could exist. He shows me a rhythm and moves me as he licks, nibbles and tongue-fucks me. I become someone I’ve never been before. Someone only intent on finding pleasure. I grind against his face, my breasts swaying with the movements. I grab hold of the headboard, crying out his name as I feel him suckle my clit. He smacks my ass as his tongue drives me wild. And the heat and sting of pain from that cause a gush of wetness. I hear Cyrus’s groan as he laps it all up. He shifts, his hold stronger, forceful and almost painful. I keep riding him, needing to come. I can feel my orgasm, but it’s just out of reach.
“Need…more…” I pant, knowing I do, but not knowing exactly what it is that will send me over.
“Fuck, yes,” Cyrus growls, his words and voice muffled because of the way he’s working me. He tilts my ass and I stretch to remain holding on to the headboard. Then, I feel his fingers pushing into me, his tongue still licking on my clit. I move a hand to my breast, squeezing it, teasing my nipple.
“Mi mujer.” I hear Cyrus, but I’m too far gone. I’m going to come. I pinch my nipple hard, sharp almost-pain, moving through me as I pull on it. Then, I feel Cyrus press against proof of my virginity, tearing through it. There’s pain, but too much pleasure for it to matter. “Cristo!” he barks, but I’m too far gone.
“Cyrus!” I cry out as my orgasm overtakes me and I ride his face hard, grinding down like never before. Cyrus continues to lick and touch, my entire body feeling as if it’s on fire. I come all over him, and he somehow takes everything I give and soothes me at the same time. I feel like I’m floating as he carefully flips us over so that I’m lying against the bed, his heated body pressed against me.
“You were a virgin, Bebé,” he says, but his words aren’t soft and loving, like I expected. They’re almost accusatory.
“Does it matter,” I ask him, trying to shake off the remnants of the most explosive orgasm I could have thought possible.
“Si. It does matter. You should have told me. I hurt—”
“Trust me, Cyrus, nothing hurt. It was amazing,” I assure him, touched that he’s upset because he might have inflicted pain on me. I soon find out that I’m wrong though, because Cyrus gets out of the bed. He ruffles his hair as he rubs his head, as if he’s trying to sort through some huge problem. I don’t understand any of it.
