24. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Finley

I half expected Cyrus to be waiting by the door for me, but the apartment is quiet and seems empty. There's another present in the living room. A massive blank canvas with a bow around it and an envelope balanced on top.

I open it up and find multiple pages of embossed stationary.

Finley,

I told you I would tell you all the things I want to do to you on your birthday. Here's a start.

Cyrus

I flip the page. The list starts tame and sweet.

Take you on a picnic in Central Park Dance to your favorite song Kiss you under the stars Watch you sleep Hold you all night long

Turning another page, it gets consecutively more explicit.

Watch you touch yourself Spill my cum between your tits Throw you over my knee and spank your ass pink Wake you up with my face between your legs Fall asleep with my cock in you Wrap your hair around my fist and fuck your mouth in the shower Fuck you on the couch Fuck you on the kitchen counter Fuck you on the balcony Fuck your mouth and your cunt and your ass until I own every part of your body

It goes on and on, with more and more detail.

Tie you to the bedposts in my favorite hotel and fuck you so hard and loud you wake all the guests Fuck you from behind on a stage in front of a hundred people so they can see how completely I wreck you, so they'll know you're mine and mine only Suck your sweet little clit under the tablecloth at an expensive restaurant while you stuff yourself with chocolate cake to keep from screaming my name

On the last page, there's only one line of text.

Let you paint my portrait before I take you against the window in your studio

My eyes drops to the gift attached to the note, the blank canvas with a bow around it. Is he…? Does he mean now? Picking up the canvas, I tentatively walk down the wide hall toward my studio. "Cyrus?"

No answer.

I peek into Midas's office. Empty. My breathing picks up as I make the short trip from Midas's office to the room where I've spent the last few weeks trying, and failing, to paint Cyrus. When I push open the door, the canvas slips from my hand and thuds on the floor.

Cyrus is completely naked, stretched on an ottoman he must have carried in from the living room.

"Took you long enough." His golden hair is lit like a halo from the light shining through the window behind him. It makes his tattoos look like they're shimmering and metallic. Beautiful.

My gaze follows the twirling lines down to the hard appendage raised against his abs. Veins crisscross the golden tattoo. Pre-cum drips from the tip. It jerks as if reaching out, begging to be touched .

Just reading his list was enough to get me worked up, and the sight of him only adds to the tension building in my core. I take a step forward. And another. Drawn to him like a moth to a flickering flame.

"My eyes are up here, Finley." Cyrus's laugh snaps me out of my hyper fixation for a second, but I'm not easily embarrassed. To prove it, I stick my tongue out at him and stare even more pronouncedly at his impressive package.

"Brat," he laughs even harder. "Come here. I didn't get to finish my meal at breakfast, and I'm starving." He holds his hand out. "Come here and straddle my face."

My thighs clench and heat flickers in my core, but I stop walking. A small sign of rebellion. I know I can't fight him, not really. No matter how hard I try to stay away, he draws me back in every time.

Maybe Aeson's right about soulmates. Or maybe I'm just weak. I'm not sure I care anymore. But that doesn't mean I can't take back a little control.

I smirk back at him. "You can eat me out after I paint you."

It'll take more than a day to paint him, but I can get a good base sketch before I give in to my traitorous body. I force myself to turn back to the door, where I dropped the canvas.

Cyrus growls and stalks forward. "I said I was hungry. "

"You also said I could paint you."

He stops mid-step. "Is that really what you want?"

"Y-yes." No. As much as I want to paint him, I want him between my legs more. I want to trace every tattoo on his cock and taste the pre-cum pooling at his tip.

"Are you sure?" He raises one eye-brow, calling me out.

"Okay, fine, what I really want to do is blow you. Happy?"

"Not nearly. Not until you're coming on my tongue." He takes my hand, pulling me to the ottoman in front of the window.

Before I know what's happening, he's sweeping my legs out from under me, and I'm on top of him. He's got me facing away from him in a sixty-nine position, cock right in front of my face. With my skirt pushed up to my waist, he flattens his tongue on my clit and moves it in little circles. He doesn't bother removing my underwear, and the way the silk rubs just works me up more.

I grip the base of his shaft in one hand and wrap my lips over the head. He pauses just long enough to curse. I smile around him, loving that he's enjoying this as much as I am.

I lose myself to the salty taste of him, the hard glide against my tongue, the grip he has on my thighs, and the way he's working my clit. It heats my core like a shot of absinthe. He's intoxicating.

The warmth builds and builds, growing each time I press all the way down his shaft, until I can't hold it back anymore. I fall over the edge and moan around his length.

Satisfied, I try to wiggle away and change positions so I can keep working him to completion, but he bands his forearms around my ass, holds me down on his face, moves my panties aside with his tongue, and eats me out like he never wants to stop, like he didn't just give me the best orgasm of my life. I moan, and his cock twitches against the roof of my mouth. He's close. But I can't keep up my rhythm. I'm so sensitive, so swollen, and his fevered attack on my pussy is too intense. All I can do is grip his thighs and hold on as he devours me.

The next orgasm he rips from me is unlike anything I've ever experienced. The room goes white. My ears ring. My legs tense and toes curl. I almost bite his cock from the intensity, digging my fingers into his thighs as wave after wave crashes over me.

I'm still shaking when he grabs my waist just below my ribs and tugs. With an illicit pop, I release him from my mouth and slide up his body. My knees slip off the ottoman and onto the floor. Dragging me until we're face to face, he kisses me upside down, shockingly tender .

"I've waited so long, Finley. Centuries. But the past six years have been torture. Knowing exactly where you were and not being able to have you…" He shakes his head. "And the last two weeks… fuck, we have a lot of time to make up for."

My brain is still sex addled. Did he say centuries? Quite the exaggeration. But the sentiment is clear.

Breaking our kiss momentarily, he sits up and faces me. With him on the edge of the ottoman and me on the floor, I'm kneeling between his legs with his hard cock in front of me, so I dive back in, but he only lets me get one long bob up and down before he pushes me off. "Undress for me, Finley."

On wobbly legs, I stand and pull my shirt over my head, letting it fall to my feet, revealing my bare breasts. I hate the feel of a bra, and my boobs aren't big, so I didn't bother with one today. I'm glad I made that choice.

Cyrus's eyes are blown out and fixated on me with an intensity I've never experienced before. That flickering flame effect is back, dancing in the center of his irises.

My skirt goes next, falling easily. In only my ruined thong, which is half wedged to one side of my pussy, I feel like a mess, and at the same time, like the most beautiful creature in the world because of how Cyrus is looking at me.

He reaches out and drags his hands up my outer thighs. Slowly, reverently, he takes hold of the thin line of fabric at my hips and lowers my panties down to my ankles. I kick them away and step closer to him. He wraps his arms around me and rests his chin on my stomach as he looks up. "Before the day is done, I'm going to make you come once for every birthday I missed since we first met. Every single one."

"Is that all?" I ask, stroking my fingers through his soft hair.

"Should I go for twenty-three instead? Once for each year of your life?"

I laugh. "There's no way you can give me twenty-three orgasms in a matter of hours."

A smirk curls his lips. "It would be fun to try though, wouldn't it?"

"I think I'd end up in the hospital."

He's suddenly serious, a firm tone to his voice. "I'll never hurt you, Finley. Tell me to stop at any point, and I'll stop. That second. No questions asked."

I bite my lip. "What if I… want you to keep going after I tell you to stop?"

His head tilts, but a small smile plays at his lips. "Does that get you off, little flame?"

"Um, maybe? Only if we've agreed about it beforehand. "

"Do you have a safe word?"

"Pineapple." I don't know why that's the word that pops into my head, but it does, so I go with it.

Cyrus chuckles, then his demeanor changes completely. His muscles flex, like a leopard about to pounce. His whole being radiates power. Barely controlled power. Danger.

I take a step back. His smile widens. Predatory. Hungry. I blow him a kiss, then run.