Page 64 of Satisfaction Guaranteed

“Cyrus!” she hisses. “Put that away!”

The shifter laughs and turns the brightness of his screen down for good measure.

“Can’t help it. My phone has been going off all night. You, my dear, have become very popular.” There’s a purr to his voice and a prideful gleam in his eyes when he hands over his device.

Alana had always been respectful of his job, never once pressuring him to quit or find a new means of work. But after officially claiming one another, it was decided that neither could stand the thought of being intimate with anyone else. They navigated a few different boundaries with the understanding that sex work is something he enjoys, and what kept Cyrus’ ranch going strong. So, not wanting to give it up completely, they came to a decision to try something new.

Cyrus’ grin turns sinful as he watches the video of the two of them play out; Alana is spread over his lap, neither of their faces in the frame. The camera focuses on Cyrus’ torso and Alana’s blushing ass, reddened from the assault of his hand. He runs a finger through the seam of her excitement, his entire palm engulfing her. He rubs her gently, only to then suddenly strike her clit. Her cries echo through the speakers, body twitching with an abrupt orgasm. 500,000 views in a weekend, with nearly 100,000 likes and several comments singing Alana’s praises or begging for more content. It was one of Cyrus’ most popular videos, by far.

“Seems like you’re a fan favorite.”

Alana bites her bottom lip, looking equal parts thrilled and mortified. She’d come a long way since they first met, exploring her limits and what she enjoyed sexually. Even though she was far more confident than a year ago, they’d given it substantial consideration before featuring her in one of Cyrus’ videos. Most of her hesitation stemmed from the belief that her body wasn’t something anyone wanted to pay for. As if nobody other than him would want to see someone who looked like they belonged in a museum somewhere. Needless to say, Cyrus has never been happier to prove her wrong.

“That’s…a lot of views. You don’t think anyone will recognize us, do you?” Alana scrolls through the comments and likes, her face growing redder with each swipe of her fingers.

Cyrus chuckles and scratches the side of his beard. It’s thicker now, more grown out. “Nah, I made sure your face was never in view. The only way folks would recognize you is by your p—”

“Do not.” Alana pinches his side, effectively shutting him up with a pained laugh.

“Okay, okay, sorry.” Cyrus confiscates his phone, sidestepping away from the assault. “But no, ma’am, no one should be able to recognize you, not even in this little town. Which is why you’re welcome to be my partner in crime whenever you want. Just picture it: you and me, a Little Red Riding Hood outfit? Film out in the woods? Baby, you’d climb the charts. I can see it now. Werewolf boyfriend breeds—”

“Hush! Gods.” She smacks him again, but there’s a twitch in the corners of her mouth. “I’ll consider it,” she says. But when Cyrus grins, she adds, “However, if we break higher views than that last video, I get to try something.”

Cyrus’ brow arches, his head cocked to the side. It’s been a minute since he’s had a special request. “Go on.”

Gods, the way she looks up at him is obscene, eyes bright with an excitement that looks both enduring and terrifying all at once. She leans in close, balancing on the tips of her toes to whisper into his ear.

Cyrus steps back, face dark, as he flounders over his words. “I’ve, uh, never gone down that road before, Darlin. I don’t even think I’ve got the tools necessary for that.”

Alana snorts. “You say that like you’re not rich, with ample access to special websites.” She flashes him a grin. “Plus, I’m best friends with a pair of lesbians, Cyrus. I know they’ve got a spare I can borrow.” She jots her thumb over at the vampire couple. As if their ears were ringing, they wave and wink at Cyrus in a way that’s anything but innocent.

He sighs, crossing his arms. “….Fine. You’ve got yourself a deal.”

Alana looks all too proud of herself, practically glowing as she does a little dance. Cyrus rolls his eyes but takes the opportunity to wrap his arms around her and pull her into a kiss. Her perfume envelops him, sugary sweet, with notes of amber and vanilla. It reminds him of the holiday goods Alana bakes this time of year—warm and soothing, like everything good left in this world.

And that’s just what she is, his girl.

Alana has grown this past year; he can see it clearly now. Her confidence, and how she navigates life like she’s been given a new outlook on it. It’s not just with her body or sexuality, either. She’s expanded her bakery, succeeding in ways she’d been so terrified that she wouldn’t. She’s bolder, too, far less concerned about anyone’s opinions.

She’s grown up in all the ways a good person can, and Cyrus has branched out right alongside her. His growth feels more subtle than her own. Maybe it’s because he hadn’t realized just how stagnant he was to begin with. His whole life, he’d been missing something; a fragmented piece of a puzzle that he never knew was out of place. Years had bled into each other after the loss of his parents, and routine became something he never bothered to break away from. He knew what worked and knew what it took to survive. He thought himself happy enough.

Turns out he didn’t know the real definition of it before her.

Cyrus’ life had been dull before Alana Darling. Not achromatic in its entirety, but faded. Like the saturation had been dialed down without him knowing. They say it’s natural, the way the world loses its color as you age. Loss and heartbreak tend to rob a person of their ability to see the world in the same light they did before. But Alana had challenged that. She crashed into his carefully structured bubble, and color erupted in vibrant hues once more. The sky became a little bluer, the flowers a little brighter. She’d been exactly what he needed, and the hells will freeze over before he lets her go.

“Did you like your cake, by the way?” Alana asks, glancing at the tables of food that’d been set up, with her homemade cake sitting front and center. She made it in the shape of a horseshoe.

It’s the most adorable thing he’s ever seen. “I sure did, sweetheart. Pure perfection, thank you.”

Alana beams. Then, she jolts, gasping. “Presents! We can’t forget, we still have presents to open later, too.”

“I know. But, I was thinking about that, actually.” His hand finds the small of her back, and he walks her down the porch towards the pond.

Leaves crunch beneath their feet with each step, signs of an early fall right around the corner. The trees are already changing color too, swapping their bright greens for shades of dark orange and crisp yellow. This has always been Cyrus’ favorite time of year, when the days are growing shorter and the heat has at last subsided. It’s about the time when the forest critters start making their appearance more often, too. Alana gasps as they pass a doe grazing along his property line. It looks up from the grass, big, black eyes regarding the two of them before bounding off towards the trees.

“So, you said you were thinking? That’s dangerous.” Alana says as Cyrus leads her over to an old tire swing, the old rubber torn and scratched in several places. It’s tied to a massive oak tree, whose mighty branches still hold strong after all these years. There were many a summer spent fussing over this thing when he was a kid, and Cyrus warms at the sight of Alana here now, sitting in the same place where his best memories were made.

“That’s right.” Cyrus spins her around on the tire swing, laughing alongside her. “I was just going to say there’s not much