Page 19 of Satisfaction Guaranteed

He speaks like the act of eating her out is a gift, something that fuels him with just as much pleasure as what he’s giving. And if he kept it up, it’d probably make her cum. It sends a wave of electric heat down her limbs and between her legs, surging her closer to her second release already. She’s met with the same predicament as before, wanting nothing more than to draw this out somehow, make this last for however long she can.

Then his cold nose rubs firmly against her clit, massaging it with delicious pressure while his tongue continues to eat her alive, and it’s over for her. She never stood a chance. A hand flies from the sheets to cover her mouth in a failed attempt to stifle the shrill cry that escapes her. It’s pathetic, venturing close to a sob. Pleasure zaps in every direction, through each nerve and limb, with just as much intensity as the first time.

Only this go around, there’s no drop-off. Cyrus keeps going, lapping at her now drenched cunt to the point of over-sensitivity.

Alana’s eyes blow wide, her lower half trembling. “Cyrus! Wait—”

“Just one more,” the wolf rumbles against her. His ears lay flat against his head, a predatory light in those deep, golden eyes.

“Just give me one more.”

Alana squirms, but there’s something about the press of his tongue that has all that sensitivity and discomfort shifting back to pleasure in record speed. It builds and builds and builds, and a different pressure starts to form.

Alana’s body goes rigid. She tries to buckle her knees, tries to shove him away, but to no avail. “Cyrus—wait, please, I think I have to pee,” she warns, her skin glowing scarlet. Gods, no. Please. She may never recover from this.

She silently prays for Cyrus to heed her warnings and let up before she becomes his grossest client ever, but he doesn’t. He laps and suckles at her clit at the same maddening pace, and Alana can’t fight it. She cums with a scream, losing control as her eyes roll back. She squirts against the wolf’s mouth, the mess trickling out of her like a leaky faucet and forming a puddle below her ass. Cyrus is undeterred as he rides her through it again, drinking up every drop before graciously pulling away just before things get too painful. He sets Alana down gently, watching with a breathless, self-satisfied smile while she fights like hells to catch her bearings.

She can’t be sure how long it takes her to do so. Seconds? Hours? Time and space feel nonexistent as she lies there in a puddle of her own mess, body flushed, and face hidden behind her arms.

“I’ll buy you new sheets,” she mumbles from behind her barricade.

Cyrus snorts, nosing at her until she has no choice but to look at him. “Was smart enough to invest in waterproof bedding a long time ago. Besides, what just happened probably isn’t what you think.” He cocks his head. “No one’s ever made you squirt before?”

He’s waiting for her to tell him he’s the only one who’s ever reduced her to a literal puddle, the only one who made her cum so close together she nearly cried. She hesitates to feed his ego with the knowledge that he’s the only one to make her cum in general. “I’m not answering that.”

“I feel like by not answering, you kind of already—” Another pillow to his face cuts him off, warm, honeyed laughter leaving soon after. His body shakes with it. “You keep brutally attacking me like this, and I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” The way he smiles into the side of her neck and nuzzles the little junction where her shoulder connects suggests he doesn’t mean that.

His fur tickles her skin, causing a quiet giggle. He chases the sound, the bastard, rubbing all that fur against her until she’s shoving him away between bouts of laughter. “Cyrus! Okay, okay, Get away!”

“Are you sure you want that?” He gently coaxes Alana onto her stomach, his massive body encasing her, dribbling dick rutting up the crack of her ass. “Or do you want your money’s worth?”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

ALANA

Anticipation thrums against Alana’s nerves. She bites her bottom lip and drags her gaze down. He’s so red, practically swelling. Poor guy. Three orgasms in, and he hasn’t even tried to touch himself. Well, that just isn’t fair.

Alana lifts her hips to encourage him, wiggling her ass against him in invitation. A deep purr thunders from Cyrus’ chest. Above her, he whispers some kind of apology that she doesn’t fully catch, then she hears the telltale stretch of fabric ripping apart at the seams. Alana gasps as chill air breezes past her now bare ass. Her panties lie in scraps beneath her, and she throws a glare over her shoulder. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t find that incredibly sexy. However, those were expensive! “I’ll get you new ones.”

That is all Cyrus says before shifting over to his nightstand. With practiced ease, he grabs a condom and a bottle of lube, where he dispenses just enough of it over himself to add some additional comfort. When he returns, prepped, he grabs Alana and lifts her by the hips, coaxing her legs further apart to make room for himself. He palms two fistfuls of Alana’s ass, spreading her open to admire the view. Then, as if the lube weren’t going to be enough, he spits. Saliva slides from her ass down the seam of her labia, where it gathers with the mess of arousal already accumulated there. Warm, sticky, and wet.

“I’ve said it before, but damn, what a sight you are.”

Alana shudders. She’s never been so exposed, but the humiliation of it adds to the heat swirling in her tummy. One of Cyrus’ hands keeps her spread while the other takes himself in hand. His weight shifts as he rubs his heavy length against her, teasing the head inside.

“Breathe for me,” Cyrus instructs.

Alana obeys, sucking in a breath just in time for the air to be punched back out of her lungs when Cyrus inches himself inside. A gasp hisses past her gritted teeth, her body tightening around him. Three orgasms had steered her towards relaxation, but there was no amount of prepping that could allow him in without resistance. The width of him is so much bigger than Nakita’s toy had been—it stretches her in ways she didn’t think her body was capable of. There’s an aching sting that has tears forming in the corner of her eyes, but she doesn’t tell him to stop. It’s addicting, strangely.

Something she confidently wants to chase.

“You okay, sweetheart?” Cyrus’ voice sounds from beside her ear. He sniffs her, licking the swell of her cheek where her tears had made their escape. The large, calloused pads of his hands rub up and down her sides, soothing her as he stills his hips. “We can stop, you just say the word.”

“No, no. I’m fine, I can take it,” Alana whispers. She rolls her hips against him, trying to further him along. “I’m okay. Please, don’t stop.”

Cyrus nods. His muzzle remains buried in the side of her neck, and he sinks in, inch by careful inch, a low, strained growl escaping when he’s halfway in. If she didn’t know any better, she’d assume he was the one in pain. Enormous teeth clench beside her ear, where the heaviness of his breath brushes against her skin. “Give me a minute.” He swallows. “Don’t move.”

Her body abides by his command as if it had no other choice but to do so, her hips held unmoving.