Cyrus (The Henchmen MC 9)

'Tell me you want my cock buried in your wet cunt, Eva,' he demanded, making my hips buck up toward him in silent invitation as his hand moved from the back of my neck to slip into my hair, sliding down the strands until he was halfway down, knowing it hurt more there, knowing how much I liked that. Then yanking hard enough to make me arch as far as my body would allow.

Denver didn't like to be kept waiting.

Or to be disobeyed.

Or even to give me his real goddamn name.

But I didn't need to know his name to know I wanted his giant cock stretching me as I..."

Cy's voice trailed off, his eyes rising from the page to find mine, making him look taken aback for a long moment.

"Baby, I'm going to need you to stop looking at me like that."

I didn't need to question how I was looking at him.

The second he started reading, my breathing got heavy, labored; my eyes got heavy-lidded; my breasts swelled; my clit throbbed.

I was nothing to more turned-on than I had ever been in my life in a matter of seconds.

The scene was hot, sure, but it wasn't just that.

It was Cyrus reading it to me.

It was, yeah, it was effective.

Let's leave it at that.

But I couldn't let on.

I didn't want to ruin what we had.

I had begun to, well, need to have him around.

You know, as a friend.

A friend, I reminded myself.

"Like what?" I asked, hoping that the breathlessness I heard was not as obvious to him as it was to me.

The book closed, but stayed in his hand as he slid off the desk. In doing so, the fronts of his toes touched mine; his body was barely more than a whisper from mine from feet to my head. I swear I didn't sway slightly.

Okay, fine.

I totally swayed.

But only slightly.

"Like you want me to bend you over this desk, grab you by the hair, and sink my cock into your tight pussy."

I climaxed.

Okay. Not really.

But it was close.

It was literally as close as you could get without it actually happening.

That was the kind of reaction this man brought out of me.

I swear it was practically supernatural.

I had never experienced anything even remotely like it before.

And, for once, there was nothing lighthearted, jocular, or teasing about Cy. He wasn't smiling or giving me the wiggly eyebrows he sometimes did when he brought up sex.

No.

His seaglass eyes were deeper than I had ever seen them before, intense and - dare I say it - smoldering?

With a mind of its own, my body responded with a deep, pre-orgasm tightening in my core, strong enough that I felt my eyes get even smaller, my lips parting slightly.

"Fuck," he hissed, shutting his eyes, and tilting his head up to look at the ceiling. It was a long moment before his head lowered again, his eyes open and on mine, and not a bit less promising than they had been a moment before.

My air caught in my chest as his hand raised slowly, as it hovered for a second, then moved outward like he was - swoon of all swoons - going to frame my face with it.

No one had ever framed my face before.

Or did that, grab the chin to angle your head up to kiss you thing either.

All that stuff the hunky dudes did in books that no one ever seemed to do in real life. At least not in my real life.

"Ree!" a voice called suddenly, making my eyes go huge as I jerked almost violently back.

At Cy's questioning look, I reached up to rub a hand over my throat which felt oddly constricted. "Kenzi," I offered, making his face go a bit serious.

See, Cyrus was, well, my dirty little secret.

Why?

That was a good question.

Maybe a part of it, even a big part of it, was due to the fact that Cyrus was a Henchmen, that every single person in my life would flip out over that fact, would pitch a fit, might even go and threaten him or something like that.

The other part, though, was actually almost a selfishness. I wanted to keep him, and the strange, but fully functional, thing we had going to myself. I didn't want outside input. I didn't want to have to tell our stories that were ours alone. I didn't want someone else shouldering in.

I wanted him all to my onesies.

I mean, of course, I couldn't actually have that.

I shared Cy with all his brothers, his friends, his family, his - ugh - hoards of female admirers.

But for me, he was a happy little part of my life I kept fully to myself.

As if somehow sensing this, Cy turned and disappeared just seconds before Kenz came into view.

And, being this was Kenz, she was dressed like she stepped out of a magazine. She had on tight, high-waisted gray-wash jeans with six shiny silver buttons, a tucked in white tee - despite the fact that it was winter outside - six-inch camel-colored booties, and a purse to match. Her hair, makeup, and accessories were as flawless as they always were too, even after a full day at work.