Page 82 of Rattle the Cage

While she clicked on the vibrator at the strap’s base, I flipped onto my back, using my legs to create space between us. As she lunged forward, I pressed my heel square against her collarbone.

It was a weak showing: Cyrus was a beast, and all it would take was one lurch to shove me out of her way. But it was enough to make her pause, letting her eyes drift over my body.

Resisting the urge to give in, I mustered all of the confidence I could into my voice. “Your shirt. Off.”

A wide smirk painted Cyrus’ face, eerie enough to send a shiver down my spine. “The Ragdoll is giving orders?”

She swatted my leg aside, towering over me in one fluid motion. “You want my shirt off? Then take it off.”

Her lips crashed down onto mine, knocking the air from my lungs. Before I knew it, her hand was between my legs, spreading my center wide and guiding her cock to my entrance.

“Fuck!” I balled my hands in her black tank top, clawing at her back as she filled me.

“That’s it, baby.” She thrust again, coating the silicone in my pleasure.

The fullness was almost too much, though my soaking wet center took her length easily. It was a perfect fit, like her cock was made just for me.

Or like I was made for her.

Overwhelmed with pleasure, I clutched her back, clawing at the fabric until the threads at her neckline burst.

“That’s it,” she growled again, thrusting harder despite the couch creaking its protest.

I raked a hand over her back, pulling at the dark fabric until it tore away. With each tear, the glistening muscle revealed itself. Soon enough, the shirt was nothing more than tatters falling all around us on the couch as she ravaged me.

“Fuck, Cyrus…” My eyes dipped down her torso to her bare chest and the intricate scars that covered every inch of it. Her whole body was a work of art, but the scars… the scars were something else entirely.

I’d seen the delicate lines before, the way they intertwined with the ink across her chest into a twisted bramble of vines and thorns. But it was a different thing to caress the ridges beneath my palms, to feel her heart beating underneath the carvings.

There were other scars too, hidden under layers of ink. Some of them were rougher: perhaps earlier attempts at the design. But still, others seemed more jagged, more repetitive, more —

Cyrus didn’t let me linger there long before grabbing my wrists and pinning them over my head. But with her nails digging into my skin, her weight holding my hands in place, the couch didn’t last more than a few thrusts before it came crashing down beneath us.

“Fuck!” I winced, feeling the wood crumble beneath the cushions.

Cyrus didn’t miss a beat though. In a second, she was up, pulling me onto my feet and back into a heavy kiss.

Her hands gripped my hips, nails biting into the skin as she guided me back across the apartment blindly. I wasn’t even sure what was crashing around us — lamps, vases, decorations — but Cyrus didn’t stop until my back slammed against the wall.

For a long moment, she kept me pinned between her hulking body and the wall, playing with my tits and pussy while I squirmed against her. But as calculated as she could be, Cyrus’ patience only stretched for far.

Before long, she was lifting me up again, sinking her cock between my legs as she held me up against the wall. The wall hardly had to do any work: it was barely a strain for her to lift me when she was made of that much muscle. But I clung to her anyway, wrapping my arms around her back and shoulders, fingers clawing at the back of her neck.

My skin chilled feeling the raised edges of her brand beneath my fingers: the three of swords, the symbol she’d taken on as a reminder of her hatred of me.

A hatred that she’d disavowed in the middle of this apartment. A vengeance she’d set aside in the interest of… a future?

A night.

I shook my head. Whatever this was wasn’t a reconciliation. It was a damnation. But hell did bad choices feel so fucking good.

Screwing my eyes shut, I tried to shake the thought. But only Cyrus’ ebony gaze could make the world fade away. “Look at me.”

As I opened my eyes, I saw her face was dripping with sweat and hunger. She was close. But she wouldn’t finish until I did.

“Cyrus…” I breathed, nails biting into the nape of her neck. “Touch my… touch….”

I didn’t have to finish the sentence before she adjusted her grip, one arm cradling my hips while the other plunged between them. While her cock stretched my center, her fingers massaged my clit expertly, tracing wide circles before flicking over the bud.