Cyrus isn’t bothered by any of it. His attention is solely on my breasts. When he notices I’ve given up on the bra, his tongue seeks out my right nipple. He licks and caresses, sucks andnibbles, while his hand squeezes the other. Cool air surrounds me, giving me a slight case of goosebumps when his mouth leaves. His fingers fumble with the button and zipper of my jeans.
“What are you doing?”
Cyrus stops — which is not something I want him to do — and gives me a puzzled look. “Taking off your pants.”
“But you still have yours on. They should come off too.”
He shakes his headand goes back to the task of pulling my jeans down my legs. “Don’t worry. They will.”
“I don’t think that’s fair,” I say even as I lift my butt to make it easier for him to take my pants off.
“If I only get one chance at this, I’m going to make it’s the best sex you’ve ever had.”
With my jeans around my ankles I do my best to kick them off without hurting him. Cyrus’ attention focuses on myunderwear. They’re about as pretty as the white bra still hanging from one of my shoulders. At least they’re from Victoria’s Secret, even if it is their granny collection.
Again, it’s really not my fault.
The lack of pretty underwear doesn’t seem to dissuade him, as with one finger on each side he slowly drags them down my legs. “Stop arguing and lie back and enjoy yourself.”
He parts my knees,spreading my legs open, and as of this moment I realize for the first time in my life I am completely open for Cyrus — literally. It’s broad daylight and I’m lying on top of his bed completely naked. I hope to God he knows where his roommate is and when he plans to come back. This is not the position I want to find myself in should he stop by to pick something up or catch a nap.
“Cyrus, where’syour roommate?” I ask as his tongue makes contact with my pussy. His swipes a large path, ending with my clit.
He raises his head to answer and I immediately regret the question. Who cares where his roommate is? “Practice. All day.”
I swear, the muscles in my legs tighten as his head lowers once again. This time I make sure not to interrupt as his tongue flits back and forth over my clit. Heuses the same motions he did on my nipple, licking and sucking in an almost rhythmic pattern.
“Oh God,” I moaned. “Don’t stop.”
My muscles tighten harder as an orgasm builds. My legs jerk between each of his movements, and Cyrus holds them down with steady hands. My shoulders shake and I squeeze my eyes shut, my legs wrapping tightly around Cyrus’ head even as he holds them down. The orgasmhits hard, pulsing through my body like turbulent waves. He puts a hand over my mouth to muffle my moan as my back arches off the bed. Cyrus doesn’t relent until my back hits the bed, my release over. He slows and I regain my breathing.
“That was fucking gorgeous. Let’s do it again.” He lets go of my knees but positions himself between my legs so I can’t close them.
My head flops around on thepillow, unable to answer. I mumble incoherent words as Cyrus shimmies down his shiny athletic pants. He takes his boxers with them, and when his palm is free, his shaft bobs against the bottom of his stomach.
Holy shit. This is really happening. I’m going to have sex with Cyrus. My best friend Cyrus. My panic must show because he leans down, putting us forehead to forehead.
His lips rustle againstmy skin and he whispers, “I’ve got you. It’s gonna be okay.”
“I know it’s just…”
“This is crazy?” he asks with a smile. “How am I doing so far?”
Oh my God. Only Cyrus would ask how he’s doing halfway through sex.
I smile even though I don’t want to. I shouldn’t reward his behavior. “Good. You’re doing well.”
“Only good? I have to try harder.” He nods toward the nightstand as his hands cupmy hips, his thumbs rubbing circles on my pubic line. “Get a condom from the nightstand.”
The drawer sticks, forcing me to yank on it harder — the shoddy construction of an athlete hall piece of furniture. Inside is a strip of condoms, the Gold Medal Winter Games logo stamped on the outside. “You use these things?”
Athletes are given a welcome bag when we get here, and they always include astrip of condoms. They also pass them out from fish bowls in the cafeteria. It becomes a big joke we talk about that most spectators never know. I’ve never tried to use one. I’ve always considered them on the same level as joke condoms. They’re one step up from tasting like pineapple or glowing in the dark. My roommate and I blew ours up and hung them from the shower in our bathroom.
“It’s allI have right now. I didn’t really come prepared for this possibility.” He takes the strip from me.
The room grows quiet as Cyrus tears open the condom wrapper. He strokes himself a few times before pushing the condom over his length.
I use a deep breath to calm my breathing as he centers his body over mine. He slips the tip in easily but stops at the first sign of resistance. Cyrus stares down,our eyes locking together.
