Chapter 31 More

Chapter 31 More
CRAVING MORE

CYRUS'S POV

I lay there, chest heaving, staring down at him like he'd just rewired my entire brain. dominic, sprawled on the bed, his hair plastered to his forehead, his chest rising and falling too fast, his cock still twitching from me, and my god—I wanted him again already, even though my balls were empty and aching. Fuck. I knew I'd never get enough of him. I could never get enough of him. My hands flexed, fingers curling on the sheets, just wanting him closer, wanting the heat back, the smell, the taste of him. The way he looked at me, with that mixture of fear and want, that submissive little bitch look I loved so much—it made my chest tighten until I thought it would implode.

“You okay?” His voice was soft, ragged, carrying that edge that made me ache again. I wanted to answer with a moan, wanted to pull him onto my lap and shove my cock back in, but instead I just gritted my teeth, trying to get my heart to shut the fuck up. “Don’t say nothing dumb,” he added, eyes dark, that little smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth that I wanted to fuck off him with my tongue.

"I'm fine," I growled, though I wasn't. I wasn't fine at all. Not after what we'd just done, not after the way he'd made me admit it, say it, that I belonged to him. Christ.

"You? You okay?" My voice cracked but I didn't care. I wanted him to see the chaos he'd left in me. He smirked again, crawling closer despite my silent protest, pressing his chest to mine. Fuck. Every inch of him pressed into me, soft heat, teasing and I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. He was mine I'd already admitted it, but the thrill of it, the possession, the power… it was fucking overwhelming.

“Do you always have to make everything… so fucking intense?” I muttered, trying to shove him back with my hands, but I barely moved him. His grin widened, that smug bastard.

“Intense? Oh, baby, you love it. You love it when I do this to you.” His lips brushed my ear, and I shivered, pulling back only slightly. He could smell my arousal like it was a neon sign. My cock twitched, my balls burned, my whole body was yelling at me to take him, to bury myself in him again.

“You’re shaking,” he said, voice low, teasing. “Shit, you’re so fucking weak for me, aren’t you?”

"Shut the fuck up," I growled, hands gripping his arms. But I didn't push him away. Couldn't. He was a fucking magnet. Every nerve screaming that I needed him, and it scared the shit out of me. I swallowed hard. "I don't know how… how we do this and then… go back to everything else. Normal." My voice was barely more than a whisper.

"How we go back to reality after you do this to me." He tilted his head, dark eyes locking onto mine, almost mockingly patient.

"Reality?" he asked.

"Baby, reality is whatever we say it is. Right now, it's just us. Just me. You. Don't think about the world, don't think about… your life, my life, phoebe, all that shit. Not now." His hands slid under my t-shirt, warm, soft, yet teasing, fingers pressing into my ribs. Fuck. I shivered, groaning softly.

"Christ, dominic—stop torturing me."

“Stop torturing you?” he repeated, his tone all mock offense.

“I’m not torturing you, baby. I’m making you realize what’s yours. What you’ve always belonged to. Admit it—you love it. Admit it that you fucking love it.” His lips brushed my jawline, teeth grazing my skin, and I arched against him despite myself. God, I was so fucking hard again, balls aching, cock throbbing, and he just knew. Just knew exactly what to do.

"I-fuck-yeah," I panted, digging my fingers into his shoulders, hoping he couldn't tell how destroyed I was.

"I love it. I love… you. Fuck, I love you." My chest heaved. My cock twitched like it had a mind of its own. He smirked, pushing closer, that subtle, deadly little smirk that made me want to explode just looking at him. "I can't… I can't…

“Yes, you can, baby,” he whispered, hand sliding lower, brushing the tip of his cock against my stomach. Fuck. My knees buckled slightly.

“Yes, you can. You're mine. Don't lie to me now. Not when you know it's true.” His hand wrapped around my cock through my boxers, squeezing gently. And just like that, I nearly lost it.

“Fuck, dominic… baby… you're shaking… look at me, look at me…”
I did, thick globs of cum shooting from my cock . Eyes wide, chest tight, breaths ragged. My hands fisted in his hair, pulling him closer, desperate for contact, for friction, for anything to keep me tethered to him.

"I… I'm yours," I whispered, barely more than a groan. "All fucking yours."

He grinned that smug, dangerous grin. "Damn right you are, baby. And don't forget it." He pressed his lips against mine, slow, deep, claiming, while his hands roamed, exploring, pulling, teasing. I moaned into the kiss, hips jerking instinctively against his, feeling him pressed to me, hard and hot, fucking me up in ways I didn't even know I wanted. "You're mine. Don't forget that."

“I… won’t,” I gasped between kisses, hands digging into his back, pulling him flush to me, cock straining again. My body was alight with need, and yet I also wanted to just lie there and melt, to let him dominate me, to let him claim me, even more than he already had. Every nerve ending screaming that I couldn’t resist, that I wouldn’t, and I wanted it like a fucking drug. “Just… let me… stay… close…” My voice was raw, shaking.

"You stay close, baby. You always stay close," he whispered, pressing his forehead to mine, lips brushing over mine, teasing, coaxing, claiming.

"But for now… phoebe's gonna be home soon. You need to pull it together. Can't have her finding us like this." His hands trailed up my chest, under my shirt, and I groaned softly. Fuck. He was always one step ahead.

"Get your shit together. Stop shaking. Get up. Clean up, pull yourself together." I sighed, letting him guide me to the side of the bed. My cock still throbbed, balls still aching, but the sharp edge dulled into a lingering ache. I let him straighten me up, my hands still on his arms, still holding him because I didn't want to let go.

"Fuck… why's it always like this with you? Always… like you own me?" I muttered.

"Because I do," he said simply, dark, smug, deadly, and it made my chest tighten.
"And you love it. And you know it. Admit it. You're weak for me. Always have been." I groaned, head dropping onto his shoulder for a second, because yes. Yes, I was. Every bone, every nerve screaming it.

"Yeah… I'm weak… for you… you bastard…" He laughed low, dark, amused.

"Damn right, baby. Now get your ass up. Shower. Pull yourself together. I can't have you melting on me every two seconds. And don't even think about touching me again until after, alright?" That smirk curled again.

"I said… after." I groaned again, bitterly amused, for yes, of course, I would obey. I had no choice. I wanted to obey. Every part of me wanted to obey. But I rose, moving toward the bathroom, still hot and flushed, every nerve still alight, feeling him watch me, that possessive, unrelenting gaze that made me want to cum again just knowing he was looking. I swallowed hard, fixing my breathing.

“Cyrus,” he said, his voice low and teasing.

“Remember. Always mine. Got it?” "Yes, fucking yours," I muttered, clutching the towel tighter than I realized, my cheeks burning. Every step toward the bathroom was an echo of the truth. Yes. I was his. And nothing else fucking mattered. Not the world. Not phoebe. Not anyone. Just him. Always him.

My phone buzzed immediately as a text settled into my phone from phoebe, seemed as though she finally realised her husband had left the party

“Be home soon. Called Cyrus he's not picking, tell him not to wait up.” I smirked bitterly, sliding under the covers, hands clutching the sheets, replaying everything I had just done with Cyrus letting myself ache in quiet, messy satisfaction.