His Secret Obsession by Nichole Rose

 

Chapter Three

Cyrus

 

Rationally, I know I need to slow this thing with Gwen down so we can hash out a few things, but rationality fled right about the time she asked me to make love to her. I've dreamed about her saying it for so fucking long. I'm just a man, and I'm weak when it comes to her. I'm not strong enough to say no. There will be time to talk after I make her mine. Until then, my girl needs me. And all I can think about is stripping her bare and touching her everywhere at the same time.

She squirms beside me the entire time I'm booking us a room. Not having my hands on her right goddamn now is a tragedy. The receptionist keeps looking between us and biting her lip like she knows exactly what's going on, but she doesn't say anything. If it's bothering Gwen for one of her coworkers to know her business, she doesn't show it. I think she's too far gone with need to notice.

She's pressed up against my side, her hands beneath my jacket. Even through my shirt, I feel their heat searing me. Her body trembles as her hands slip and slide across my stomach in distracting patterns that have me ready to snap. I want her hands on my skin more than I want my next breath.

"You'll be in room 308. It's on the third floor," the receptionist says, handing over my credit card, the receipt, and the room keys.

"Thanks, Piper," Gwen says, practically dragging me toward the elevator.

I love how nothing stands in her way when she wants something. Once she makes up her mind, she forges ahead at full speed. That trait is sexy as hell to me. The fact that I not only slowed her down but stopped her in her tracks the day we met isn't lost on me. Neither is the fact that she never told me.

Her grandma was her idol. Losing her broke Gwen's heart. I never realized just how much until today. The last memory she has of her grandma sitting in the audience is the audition I ruined. All this time, she's been keeping the hurt I caused a secret, trying to spare me from knowing the extent of what I did to her that day. She didn't want to hurt me, even after I crushed her dream. Even though she had every right to kick my ass.

If I ever needed proof that she loves me, that's it.

If I ever needed proof that I don't deserve her, that's it too.

I wish like hell she would have told me years ago. I would have worked like a dog to fix what I broke. But I can't go back and undo it. All I can do is make sure she knows every day just how much I believe in her. She won't ever doubt it again. I'll never be able to replace her grandma, but I'll sit in the audience every night, just like I have for years. I'll love and support her enough for the both of us.

By the time the elevator arrives in the lobby, I'm feral with need. My dick pulses in time to my heart. I drag myself away from Gwen, pressing up against the wall on the opposite side of the elevator as soon as the doors close behind us and I hit the button for the third floor.

"Why are you way over there?" she asks, sauntering toward me. Her tits jiggle in her dress and my body temperature ratchets up another thousand degrees. She's beautiful every day, but she looks like a goddess in that red dress. Her thigh keeps peeking out at me, making me want to run my lips up it and bury my nose in the juncture where her thigh meets her pussy.

The heady scent of her arousal fills the elevator, sending my head spinning. My mouth waters, a feral growl working its way up my throat. I can't wait to lick up every drop she made for me.

"If you touch me right now, your coworkers are going to see me fucking you up against the wall in this elevator," I warn her before she gets too close. My grip on the metal handrail tightens. It's a last-ditch effort to keep myself from embarrassing her in front of God and everybody.

She doesn't heed my warning, of course. Half a second after I issue it, she presses up against me, her cinnamon eyes flashing a challenge at me. Nothing pisses her off more than being told no. She rises up on her toes, placing her mouth right next to my ear. "Maybe I want them to see, Cyrus," she whispers. "Maybe I want them to know just how crazy I make you."

"Gwen. Angel. Baby."

"Do you hurt for me? I do. I hurt so damn bad, Cyrus. All I can think about is you inside me, finally taking the pain away. You're the only one who can do it."

Ah, hell. She's really done it now.

"Cyrus!" she cries out, shocked when I move. One minute, she's in front of me. The next, her tits are up against the elevator wall, and I'm seamed to her back, grinding my dick against her plump, round ass.

I bite her neck, shoving my hand down between her and the wall to cup her pussy. Even through her dress and panties, I can feel how wet she is for me, and I want it. Every fucking drop until she's begging me to stop. Until she can't imagine not having me between her legs, worshipping on my knees.

"You're playing with fire, little girl," I growl in her ear, grinding my palm into her pussy. "Keep it up and it'll scorch us both."

"Good," she moans, writhing against my hand. "I want it to burn."

I don't know what I did to win God's favor, but the elevator shudders to a stop on the third floor, saving us both from being caught on video fucking like rabbits all over the chrome space. I manage to peel myself away from Gwen as the doors slide open. No one is waiting to get on, thank God, because Gwen is still pressed up against the wall like a wanton sacrifice.

"Come on, princess," I murmur, gently prying her away from the wall and then leading her off the elevator. She stumbles in her fuck-me heels before she manages to catch herself. I wrap an arm around her waist, securing her to me.

Our room isn't even halfway down the hall on the right. The hallway is quiet. I think everyone is downstairs, crammed into the ballroom or lingering outside the doors, hoping to catch a glimpse of the country music stars performing inside.

It takes me a minute to get the keycard inserted. My hands are shaking. It's funny. My whole life, I've been putting shit together and pulling it apart. I can keep any number of aircraft in the air and lock on to even the smallest target with no problem. But Gwen gets her hands on me once, and I'm discomposed, shaking like a fucking virgin.

The room could be made of gold, and I wouldn't know it. I can't take my eyes off the woman in red long enough to notice anything else. She's Aphrodite and Oshun, a true goddess of old brought to life. Her cinnamon eyes blaze with heat, with power. She doesn't shrink from her desire. She owns it like the queen she is, sauntering toward me until I'm the one pressed up against the wall this time.

"How expensive was this suit?" she asks, helping shuck my jacket off my shoulders. It doesn't even hit the floor before she's pulling my shirt free of my pants. Her nails rake across my abdomen. My stomach contracts, precum leaking into my boxers.

"Why?"

"Because I'm about to rip this shirt off you."

"Do it. But then I want those fucking nails in my skin while I'm in you."

"Oh. So you're going to be bossy in the bedroom too, huh?" she sasses, flicking her gaze up to mine.

"Yeah," I say, point blank. "I'm in charge in here, Gwen. I'll let you play, but I make the rules. I decide how hard to take you or when you've had enough. You've been taunting me for six fucking years, driving me crazy by flaunting those curves. Now, you get to pay the price."

"What's the price, Flyboy?"

"You riding my face until the only part of this world I remember is the heaven between those thick thighs," I growl, yanking my tie off.

A loud moan rips through the room as her composure slips. She stumbles into me. "Jesus, Cyrus."

"You asked," I say, not in the least sorry. She has no idea the things I've fantasized about doing to her over the years, the ways I'm going to take her. When she wants to fight and give me that fucking attitude I love so much, she'll pay with sweat and come and my handprint on her ass. "And just in case you're wondering, angel, you're going to love every minute of it."

"Cyrus," she moans again.

I pull my shirt off over my head, not giving a shit if we rip it or not. I need her hands on me now. "Take my dick out, Gwen. Touch me."

Those cinnamon eyes heat further, her irises turning molten. Her hands land on my chest and then slide down. She scratches me, not being gentle about it. I growl her name, so turned on I'm ready to throw her down on the bed and take what belongs to me.

Her hands are steady as she reaches for my belt. She keeps her eyes on mine, almost as if she's daring me to stop her. As if that'll ever happen. One day soon, she'll realize the power she holds over me. She could rip my heart clean out of my chest and I wouldn't raise a hand to stop her. She thinks I came here because Jessa asked. I'm here because she's here. Because there's not a single place on this earth I'd rather be than exactly where she is.

Even when I thought she hated me. Even when I didn't think I stood a chance in hell. She has no idea how many times I've followed her around, helpless to stop myself. How many nights I waited outside of this hotel, just to make sure she made it home safely. Even knowing it was wrong, I did it.

My belt hits the floor and then she's popping the button on my slacks. The sound of the zipper sliding down sounds loud to my ears. Hell, it sounds like a choir singing the Hallelujah Chorus.

Gwen has the courage of a lion. She's fearless. I knew it the first time I set eyes on her. She proves it again now. She reaches for my dick like she knows she owns it.

My head hits the wall, a loud growl ripping from my chest.

"Christ Almighty, Cyrus," she says, her eyes wide. "You're big everywhere."

"Gwen. Jesus, angel." It's my turn to writhe in her grip. I do, like a virgin getting his first handjob. Shit. It's close enough. I dated when I was younger. I even slept around a time or two. But it's been eight years since anyone touched me. And they didn't even compare. No one compares to Gwen. No one competes. She's my one, my fucking soul. I wish like hell I'd waited for her.

"This is mine," she says, almost like she's daring me to deny her.

"Yeah, it is," I groan as she strokes me in that perfect little hand. My god. If heaven is any better than this, I've got to get my life right. Because I can't exist in an afterlife that doesn't include her. I'd tear down the halls of hell and use them to build a ladder just to get to her. "God yeah, princess. Keep stroking me with that perfect little hand."

"No," she says, and then she stops. Just fucking stops.

I peel my eyes open, torn between the desire to beg and the urge to bend her over and spank her ass for taking her hand away. It's mine and I want it.

"I want you in my mouth."

Ah, hell.

I barely have time to grab my dick before my balls draw up and precum spills into my hand.

"Watch me," she says, her eyes locked on mine as she sinks to the floor right there. She adjusts her dress, letting it fan out in the floor around her. One soft hand lands against my thigh as she lifts up, putting her level with my dick.

She pushes my hand away, replacing it with hers. That's all the warning I get before those full lips surround the head of my cock. As soon as they do, her tongue slides across the slit and she moans like I'm the best thing she's ever tasted.

Gwen doesn't take her time. She takes me, plunging down until I hit the back of her throat.

"Fucking hell," I swear, my head bouncing against the wall. Her hot little mouth feels like heaven around my dick. For years, I've gotten myself off to the thought of sliding my hand into her thick hair and fucking her mouth until her eyes water. This is even better than the best of those fantasies.

It's clear she's never done this before. It's equally as clear that she loves it. The vibrations from her moan ripple up and down my dick. Her eyes are dark, full of excitement, of desire. Even on her knees with her lips stretched wide around my girth, she's a goddess.

I'm too big for that little mouth, but that doesn't stop her from trying. She sucks me deep, whining when she gags. It's a good thing we've already established that I'm an asshole, because every time she gags, I get harder.

I try to stay still and let her do this her way, but my hips move without my permission. I surge forward and then pull back, gasping an apology. It hasn't even fully formed before I surge forward again. God, I can't stop. I want as deep into that perfect mouth as I can get.

She whimpers, grasping my thighs and trying to pull me closer.

"Is this what you want?" I growl, surging forward again.

Her eyes meet mine, wide and dilated. I see her answer blazing in their depths. This is exactly what she wants. I don't think I'm the only one who has had fantasies. My dirty little angel has too. I give her what she wants, pumping my hips until I'm gliding in and out of her mouth. It takes all my self-control to keep myself from taking too much. One day soon, she'll be able to take me down her throat. But not yet. Not tonight.

I fuck her mouth until her eyes are watering and I can't stand another second of the pleasure. She's mad as hell when I pull out of her mouth. Her eyes flash fire at me, her nails digging into my thighs as she fights to get me back in her mouth. She's a hellcat, practically hissing at me.

I yank her up from the floor, so turned on I can't see straight. I fuck her hair all up when I drop her on the bed. She can be mad about it later. Right now, it's my turn to get my mouth on her. She needs it. I know she does. She's trembling so hard she's going to vibrate apart at the seams if she doesn't come soon. She's in pain, hurting for me.

Her panties are tiny little strips of lace that tear like paper in my rough hands. I shove them into the pocket of my slacks, which are still around my knees. I take a minute to pull them up so they don't get in the way, and then I'm flipping her dress up, too impatient to take it off her.

Her pussy is as beautiful as the rest of her.

"Did you shave this for me?" I ask, running the tip of my finger over her bare mound and then down her slit.

Her entire body reacts to my touch. Her thighs quiver, her ass lifting off the bed as she tries to get closer to me.

"No," she gasps.

"You want me to spank you, Gwen? Because that's how you get spanked," I growl, narrowing my eyes on her as jealousy roils through me hot and fast. "I don't want to even think about you shaving for another man."

"I'm not," she says. "I've never been with anyone."

"Never?"

"It was always you," she whispers, her expression full of sincerity. "From day one, Cyrus."

"Jesus." I close my eyes, letting her confession wash through me. She has no idea how many times I've lain awake at night, agonizing over whether she was with anyone. If she was thinking about someone else. About what the fuck I was going to do if I came home from overseas and she was happy with someone who wasn't me.

She may not be ready to tell me yet, but she loves me. I know she does.

"I don't want you to move to Nashville with Jessa this summer."

She blinks long, sooty lashes at me. "You don't want me to move to Nashville?"

"No. The thought of you there without me drives me up the fucking wall. I don't want a bunch of asshole record execs judging and rejecting you. I want you with me. Move in with me. I'll give you whatever you want and make you so happy, princess," I promise. "You won't have time to miss anything."

Her sharp intake of breath should set off warning bells in my head, but it doesn't. She's half naked on the bed beneath me, and I can't think through the sheer bliss pumping through my veins. That's always been my problem with her. I say all the wrong shit because I can't think straight around her.

"We'll get married on base. I want you tied to me in every way possible."

Pain flashes in her eyes, searing in its intensity. As soon as I see it, I realize I've said something wrong. That I've hurt her somehow. I don't get a chance to ask how.

She sits up, scrabbling backward on her hands away from me.

"Gwen, wha–?"

"That's what this is about," she says, her voice shaking. "God, I'm such an idiot! I thought you actually wanted me, but that's not it at all."

"Gwen, princess, wha–?"

"Stop calling me that!" she cries, rolling off the side of the bed. Her hair is a mess, and her dress is all wrinkled. She's still ravishing. But it's the devastation in her eyes that freezes me in place. It freezes the blood in my veins too. "I'm not your princess, Cyrus."

"The hell you aren't," I growl, climbing to my feet.

She throws up a hand to stop me. "Come any closer and I swear I'll bite you," she hisses at me.

"Prin…Gwen, talk to me. What's wrong? What did I do?"

"I would have given anything to hear you say you wanted to marry me a year ago," she says. Her voice cracks, breaking my heart right down the center. "I waited for you to come home. I was ready to give up everything for you. Had you asked me to move in with you then, I would have done it and never looked back. But you didn't ask me then. You acted like nothing ever changed between us. You're only asking now because I'm leaving."

"That's not true."

"Yes, it is!" she says, flinging her hands up in the air. "God, Cyrus. I've been waiting for you to notice me since the day I met you. And you wait until now to decide I'm finally good enough for you. That's not because you want me. It's because you just don't want me to go to Nashville and leave you behind."

"That's not true."

"Isn't it?" She swipes at her eyes, messing her mascara all up. "Why now, Cyrus? If it's not because I'm leaving in three months, then why?"

"I…"

A sob wrenches loose from her chest when I trail off. Her expression crumbles as tears pool in her eyes and then stream down her face. And I know I've lost her. Before I ever had a chance, I lost her. Because I can't lie to her and tell her that her leaving for Nashville isn't partly why I'm here. It is. The thought of her being happy without me is literal hellfire, burning me alive. But she's wrong too. Her being good enough for me has never been the issue. I'm the one who has never been good enough for her.

"You still don't believe I can make it in Nashville. But you're wrong. Even if you don't believe in me, I do," she says through tears, stumbling toward the door. Her entire body shakes with the force of her cries. "I've been putting my life on hold for y-y-years, hoping one day you'd learn to l-l-love me back the way I've always loved you. That you'd want m-me for the same reasons I've always wanted you. But I don't think that'll ever h-happen. I'll always be an afterthought to you, s-something you don't want until you realize you c-c-can't have it."

"Gwen, that's not what I was trying to say, dammit."

"I would have given up everything for you. That's how much I've always l-l-loved you. But you couldn't love me enough not to ask me to do it," she says. "I'm going to Nashville, Cyrus. And if those asshole record execs judge and reject me, so be it."

The door slams behind her hard enough to knock the remote off the top of the television.

I stare at it as a landslide starts in my chest, entire sections of my soul caving in. I've dreamed a thousand nights of her saying she loved me, but it was never like this. With her crying so hard she chokes on the words. With her ripping my heart out of my chest as she says them.

I should have told her years ago how I felt. Instead, I waited. And instead of convincing her that I'm good enough for her, I managed to convince her that I don't think she's good enough for me. That I don't believe in her. That I wouldn't crawl through hell to spend a single moment at her side, cheering her on while she conquers the world.

She's wrong about all of it. I wasn't asking her never to go to Nashville. God, no. She belongs in Nashville. But I didn't tell her that, did I? I didn't say a goddamn word about how talented I think she is, or about the retirement paperwork sitting on my desk, or about my plans. I fucked up again, hurt her again.

I have to fix it. Because I can't let her walk out of my life. Not like this. Not ever. I swore she'd know exactly how I feel about her before she leaves, and I intend to see it through. The Air Force used to have a slogan, we do the impossible every day. I plan to do it one more time. Because I didn't survive nine months in hell and a year crawling out of it to lose her now.

She loves me.

And I have never loved anyone but her.