CHAPTER 115: SWEET FOREPLAY

Cyrius’s POV

"Take off my clothes, wife."

The words hung in the air, thick with heat, but she didn’t move at first. Her lips parted slightly, her breath shaky as her fingers hovered just above my shirt.

Her hesitation only made me harder it hurts.

Still, I didn’t touch her.

I let her close the space. I let her decide. Because if I so much as grazed her skin, I’d lose whatever fragile restraint I had left.

Her fingers rose again, trembling, and finally touched the buttons of my shirt. One by one, she undid them..slowly, almost reverently. When her knuckles brushed my skin, I inhaled sharply through my nose, grounding myself before I pinned her to the floor like every cell in my body was begging me to do.

She pushed the shirt off my shoulders. I watched her eyes flick down, her gaze catching on the mark Aaliyah had left.

But I didn’t hide it.

I wanted her to see it.... I wanted her to burn with the same fire I was drowning in.

"Do you feel it now?" I murmured, stepping closer so her chest barely brushed mine. "This pull... this ache..."

She looked up, and her breath hitched.

"It’s always been you, Not Aaliyah, Not anyone but YOU" I whispered.

I brought my hand to her cheek, cradling it softly...so gently it startled us both. Then I dipped my head, brushing my lips against her jaw, trailing down to the shell of her ear. I didn’t kiss her. Not yet. I wanted her to beg for it.

"You don’t know what you do to me," I rasped.

And then my hands moved.

I slid them slowly down the silk of her gown, feeling every inch of her through it. The swell of her hips. The arch of her waist. The curve of her thighs. My thumbs paused just beneath her breasts, hovering...not touching yet—just letting her feel how badly I wanted to.

She gasped.

I kissed the hollow of her throat, soft and lingering, my mouth barely opening. My tongue flicked against her pulse, and her knees buckled slightly.

But I caught her.

I pressed her back against the wall again, one hand sliding up to cradle the side of her neck while the other cupped her hip possessively.

"Let me in baby," I murmured against her skin.

I kissed down her collarbone, then lower, until my lips brushed the top curve of her breast—through the sheer fabric. I could feel the tightness of her nipple beneath it, aching for friction.

But I didn’t give it to her. Not yet.

Instead, I let my tongue trace slow, lazy circles through the silk, letting the wet heat soak through, darken the fabric. Her breath came out in ragged gasps, her hand reaching up to clutch my hair.

"You want me to mark you?" I asked, voice rough with hunger.

She didn’t answer.. But her body responded perfectly.

She arched into me, desperate, legs trembling.

"I do," she finally whispered. "But not like this. I’m scared."

God... I nearly fell apart right there.

"I know," I whispered, wrapping my arms around her. "That’s why I won’t. Not until you want it. Not until you beg me to ruin you."

I leaned in again, kissing down the slope of her chest, then sinking to my knees in front of her like a worshipper before a goddess.

Her thighs brushed my shoulders.

I slid her panties down with the gentlest touch.

She gasped when the cool air hit her soaked center...but I didn’t dive in. No. I placed the softest kiss on her inner thigh, just beside where she wanted it.

"Do you know how long I’ve waited to have you like this?" I growled into her skin. "Not just your body. You."

She whimpered, her hand tangling in my hair as I kissed closer.

"I won’t mark you," I whispered, "but I’ll taste you like you’re already mine."

Then, with every ounce of tenderness I had left, I pressed my mouth to her heat, slowly, reverently.

And when her cry echoed off the walls—I knew I’d give her a thousand of those before I ever claimed her.

She gasped when my tongue met her heat—soft, slow strokes, careful not to overwhelm her. I was savoring her, letting her feel the fullness of my devotion in every flick of my mouth. Her taste was everything. Sweet. Addictive. Maddening.

But then... something changed.

Her grip in my hair tightened—not gentle, not unsure anymore. Her thighs clamped around my head, forcing me deeper. She rolled her hips forward, grinding against my tongue with sudden, wicked control.

My eyes shot up, startled. And there she was.

Hazel.

Not trembling. Not gasping. Not unsure.

Her lips were parted, her eyes half-lidded with hunger and heat, and a slow smirk curved her mouth. That was the smirk of a woman who just snapped. The smirk of a goddess about to rewrite every rule.

She pulled me up with both hands, strength surprising me. I stumbled to my feet, lips wet, mind still reeling. "Hazel—"

She kissed me hard. Hot. Deep. Tongue tangling with mine, devouring the taste of herself on my lips like she’d waited her whole life for it. Then she broke the kiss with a growl.

"Take your pants off," she breathed.

It wasn’t a request.

I obeyed.

My cock sprang free, hard and aching, twitching with the weight of everything I’d been holding back. Her gaze dropped, and she smiled again—this time wicked, knowing exactly what she was about to do.

She turned, walked to the edge of the bed, and bent over slowly, deliberately, until her hands braced against the sheets and her hips arched up, presenting herself like a damn vision from every fantasy I’d ever had. The sheer gown still clung to her torso, but below the waist? She was bare. Wet. Ready.

"You wanted to take your time?" she said, glancing over her shoulder, voice dark and thick with challenge. "Then let me take you instead."

I didn’t move at first. My breath was stuck in my throat, staring at the way her folds glistened in the dim candlelight, the soft curve of her ass lifting toward me. Then she shifted again, just enough for me to see the second entrance—the tight, sinful star winking at me below.

I growled.

"You don’t know what you’re asking for."

She looked me dead in the eye. "I do. I want all of you, Cyrius."

My knees nearly buckled.

She reached back and spread herself for me, two fingers opening both her holes just slightly—just enough to tease. Just enough to break me.

I stepped forward, cock in hand, sliding the tip between her soaked folds. She gasped as I rubbed up and down her entrance, teasing her clit, then pressed lower, circling that other forbidden place without entering.

She moaned. "Don’t be gentle."

My eyes rolled back.

"I can’t mark you yet," I groaned, gripping her hips. "But I swear, I will ruin you for anyone else."

She didn’t answer with words.

She pushed back.

One hard thrust—and I slipped inside her soaked heat. Tight. Hot. Velvet. She sucked me in like her body was made for me. My hands gripped her waist, holding her still, but she wasn’t having it. She rolled her hips again, greedier now, and my body jerked with pleasure.

I pulled out halfway, just enough to press my thumb to her other entrance. I rubbed slowly, watching her tremble beneath me. "You still sure?"

She nodded, voice wrecked. "Please, Cyrius. I want it. Both. I can take it."

I nearly came on the spot.

I took it slow. One inch of my cock thrusting back into her dripping core, while my thumb circled her tight hole—until I replaced it with the tip of another finger. She gasped, arching her back, but didn’t stop me. Her body welcomed the stretch, clenching around me like it craved the double invasion.

Soon, I had two fingers buried in her ass, and my cock pounding slow, deep strokes into her core. Her moans were music—desperate, needy, shaking the very air between us.

"Tell me you’re mine," I growled, leaning over her, biting her shoulder.

"I’m yours," she cried. "Cyrius, I’m yours."