𝐅𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 [𝟏𝟖+]

13

The entire chapter is smut lmao so if you're not comfy you can skip it...

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"The choice is yours, Aphrodite." The sound of dazzling diamond and stubborn resistance caressed me in ways that I never knew could have been possible. The knowledge that Cyrus had given me a choice — unlike Romeo — made the blood in my veins dance with joy.

A smile bloomed on my lips. "If you can't moan my name, then wear a ball gag, Cyclops."

Cyrus just stared back at me silently, the intense perusal affecting me with a tangible power warming my skin, sending tingles to skitter down my body.

"Speak no more, Wild one," he warned, the touch of lust in his eyes caressing the rest of my body, assessing my brattiness and deciding my punishment. "On your all fours."

Maybe it was the trauma that came from having to deal with Romeo or maybe it was just my sexual preference, but I loathed doggy style. Sure, it gave access to deeper penetration, but it felt impersonal and disposable.

I didn't want to be disposable to Cyrus Hudson. Instead, I wanted to watch the brown in his eyes eat away the rest of the colors in a haze of lust. Wanted to feel the glide of his chest against mine. Wanted to wrap my legs around his waist and trap him until all he could remember was the feel of me around him. Wanted just the memory of me to leave him craving for more.

Biting on the inside of my lip, I shook my head, confessing, "I just... hate that position."

"I see," he uttered, climbing down from the bed and strolling away from me. "Take off the clamps."

Disconcerted by his dismissal, I sat back on the bed, gazing down at the white blankets, contemplating if I should just leave it at this and go. Maybe this was his way of dismissing me. If Cyrus only preferred the backside without eye contact, then I couldn't force him. Could I?

He returned with a pair of handcuffs and a frown. "How hard is it to follow a simple order?"

"As hard as trying to shove a dick down your throat." With a roll of my eyes, I unclasped the nipple clamps, gazing at the red welts formed on my pale skin.

"For someone at my mercy, that's a whole new level of moronic thing to say even for you, Wild one."

"At your mercy?" I ridiculed him, "What are you going to do? Spread-eagle me? That will be too unoriginal."

"Lay on your back."

Four words loaded with authority and dominance made me wonder if I had pushed Cyrus too much. As goosebumps erupted on my skin, I laid down on my back, nipples hardening from the way a very masculine gaze scanned the weals on my areolas. My eyes scanned his frame and lingered on the bulge in his pants, which sent heat to fire through my veins from the way Cyrus Hudson was so visibly, erotically affected by me.

"Hands above your head."

I obeyed.

Keeping my wrists closer to the headboard, smelling in the notes of bergamot and birch, I watched silently as he cuffed my wrists to the bed frame. Vehemently aware of my nudity and Cyrus' lack of it, I clenched my legs shut to stop the pulsing of my pussy walls. My eyes tracked the motion of Cyrus' hands as he undressed, unveiling his well-built physique and his hard cock glazing with a drop of pre-cum.

My gaze lingered on the line of a scar running on the right side of his lower abdomen and my breath hitched, admiration coursing through me. Admiration for his sacrifice. Just a few months back, he had donated his kidney to Tyrone, his cousin, whose kidneys had failed while he was in a coma. Everyone back then had lost hope and had given up fighting for Tyrone — even his fiancee, Celestina — except Cyrus. And maybe it was Cyrus' stubbornness that had brought Tyrone back to life.