The words leave her in a rush, as if she can’t believe this is happening, like she wants to touch me as much as I want to touch her.
I clear my throat as my hips gyrate once again without control. “Pull up my dress, pull off my undergarments and let me fuck your thigh.” She groans, low and deep, throaty and still sleepy as she quickly gets to work removing my clothing from the situation.
A tear ripples through the room as a flash of cold air hits my wet pussy.
She ripped my underwear!
“Did you just… rip my undergarments off?” I stammer, both shock and lust fighting for dominance in my middle.
Cyrus guides my thigh over hers, inserting her hip right where I need it. “I thought you wanted them off?”
I plan on saying something witty, maybe sarcastic, instead she silences me by pulling my leg and perfectly grinding my clit over her hip. Instead of a comeback she gets a deep moan.
The hand wrapped around my back flies to my backside, grabbing her pound of flesh and pushing me to grind over her. Instinctively my hips move, grinding my clit over her hip bone, leaving a trail of my slick all over her skin. A sick sense of happiness comes from that. Knowing she’ll be covered in me. Even if this will never happen again.
Moans pour from my throat and get lost in Cyrus’s chest.
My orgasm is clawing away at my stomach already. The need to come all over Cyrus is heady. Just the thought of it being her drives me even closer to the edge. Hell, I’m fucked. I shouldn’t be using her to get off.
I’m never going to get over her, not when every ounce of my arousal is linked to her.
She fists my arse, tightening her hold and deepening the grind against her hip. Pleasure zips down my spine, coiling tight and low in my stomach.
My breath saws out of me, the fabric of Cyrus’s shirt sliding over my cheek.
Her chest vibrates with a pleased hum as my noises shift from moans to high pitched whines. Her hands move my hips faster, taking over my movements, drawing closer and closer until the dam is about to break.
Lips dance across my hair again, the action carving a path directly to my heart. She’s done it so often over the course ofthe last few days, the thought of going without again is devastating.
With a kiss to my crown, she whispers, “Come for me, love.”
And I shatter.
Crying out into Cyrus’s shirt, pleasure racking my bones as I fall apart. My wetness coats Cyrus’s hip and thigh as my hips relentlessly hump over her, until my soul returns back to my body.
The fabric under my face is damp from my tears and drool. I don’t care, I bury my face deeper, soaking in the warmth and slowly catch my breath from the first decent orgasm I’ve had since Cyrus left.
I’ve not been with anyone else since. My heart not wanting to sleep with anyone else, not even attracted to another person. My hand has become my best friend over the last few months, but not once have I come as hard as I just did on Cyrus. It wasn’t even that exciting of a time.
Cyrus didn’t even come.
She didn’t even come.
Finally I move my head, lifting it to catch Cyrus’s eyes. Her eyes crinkle with amusement, a gentle smile curling one edge of her mouth. The hand on my thigh reaches for my cheek, brushing away the wetness she finds. Then she’s standing up as she manoeuvres me until my head rests on a pillow.
She walks away, heading into a small room connecting to hers, Her shirt just barely covering her backside and the soaking mess I left behind. Returning a few seconds later with a fresh washcloth.
When she’s in front of me, she gently opens my thighs and drags the cloth over them, cleaning me up in the most gentle of ways.
I want to cry from the tenderness, squinting my eyes as if that will keep the tears at bay.
She finishes cleaning me, throwing the washcloth somewhere in the room.
“I’ll find you some clean undergarments to wear.” When I nod, she walks over to a chest of drawers, rummaging through it until she finds some to give to me.
I hold my hand out, a clear sign of ‘hand them over’. Instead she ignores my outstretched palm and glides the material over my feet herself; dancing her finger tips over the skin of my calves and palming my thighs before sliding them in place. Her touch just on the teasing side, a little too much after I’ve just come. Now, I want her to rip them off all over again.
Her face flickers, soundlessly mouthing words.
