"Alright," he says gruffly, still fucking her face like she doesn't need to breathe. Not that she's complaining, judging by how much fucking arousal is dripping between my fingers. "Good boy. You can finish."
Good boy.
That's my trigger phrase, and I could shoot his fucking cock off for using it in front of her right here, right now, before I've had the chance to even broach the subject of our fucked up relationship.
Ifyou can call it that.
But it's clear he wants to assert his control in front of her, and those words serve their intended purpose.
Frigid bastard.
I pull back just enough to aim, and then I'm coming. Hot ropes of come paint across her back, marking her skin with proof of what we've done. The pleasure whites out my vision, makes my legs shake, leaves me gasping for air.
Cyrus follows moments later, his grip on her hair tightening as he floods her mouth. "Swallow," he commands, and she does, her throat working to take everything he gives her.
When he finally pulls out, she gasps for air, her lips swollen and red. There's come dripping down her chin, and my mind takes a screenshot because it's the hottest fucking thing I've ever seen.
I collapse beside her on the bed, my heart still jackhammering. Cyrus sits back against the headboard, his chest rising and falling rapidly. And Eleanor stays on her hands and knees between us, painted in our come, looking like the perfect picture of debauchery.
"You okay?" I ask, reaching out to brush hair from her face.
She turns to look at me, her eyes dark, but the spark is back. "Yeah," she whispers. "I'm okay."
"Good," I murmur, dipping my fingertip into the pool of come on her back, not so subtly painting my own name across her skin. "You did so well, taking all of Cy in your mouth like that."
I'm not sure if it's my featherlight strokes across her spine or my words that make her shiver, but I decide I want to repeat them both to find out.
I help her sit up slowly, watching as she becomes aware of the mess we've made of her. Come dripping down her back, her face sticky, her hair tangled from Cyrus's grip. She's blushing, but she doesn't look ashamed.
Instead, she looks almost... content.
"You can go clean up," Cyrus says, jerking his head toward the door. "Jinx will take care of the mess."
She stands on shaky legs, and I watch her walk away, admiring the way her ass looks, swaying with my come still glistening on her skin. The bathroom door falls shut, and then it's just me and Cyrus.
"Well," I say, tucking myself back into my jeans. I need a shower, my hair damp with sweat, but I can't bring myself to wash her away just yet. "Thathappened."
Cyrus adjusts his glasses, his expression unreadable. "Kade's going to lose his shit when he watches the footage."
"Probably." I grin, because the thought of Kade's jealous rage is almost as satisfying as the orgasm itself. "But we followed the rules. Technically."
"Technically," Cyrus repeats, but there's a hint of a smile on his lips.
We hear the shower start, and I imagine Ellie under the spray, washing away the evidence of what we just did. Part of me wants to join her, to press her against the tiles and make her come again just because I can.
But that would be pushing it. Even I know when to quit while I'm ahead.
"You didn't have to say that in front of her, you know," I mutter instead.
"What?" he asks innocently, leaning against the headboard, even though I know damn well he knows what I'm talking about.
"'Good boy?'" I echo pointedly to remind him, cocking an eyebrow.
He smirks like the smug son of a bitch he is. "She was bound to find out eventually. Besides, what does it matter what she thinks?"
"It matters tome."
"Yeah. That's always been your problem."
