Nanny for the Neighbors: Chapter 34

Cyrus pulls me behind the bar, through a doorway I hadn’t noticed. There’s a No Entrance sign hanging over the knob, but he ignores it, yanking the door open and pushing us into another store room. This one is thankfully bigger than the broom closet in the dressing room; it’s dark and bare, full of shelves of lighting and crates of bottles. There’s a rickety-looking table pushed up against one of the walls, and a stack of black chairs near the doorway.

“Is this okay?” I whisper, crossing my arms over my chest. I’ve never had sex in a public building before, but I’m more than ready to start now. I don’t think I’ve ever been so turned on in my life. Sweat is slicking my body. My pants aren’t just damp, they’re flat-out soaking.

Cyrus grins. “It’s a club, Bethie. People fuck in clubs. Jesus, Tony’s probably giving your friend a handy in the bathroom right now.” He locks the door behind us, then crowds me forward, pressing me into the table. I sit on it, kicking off my heels, and he looks at the pink nail polish sparkling on my toenails. “You are,” he says, “so cute.”

I frown. I don’t really want to be cute right now.

I want to be hot.

Cyrus steps closer, coming to stand between my legs. “You liked the act?” He murmurs, setting his hands on my knees.

“God, yes.” I swallow hard as he runs his palms up my thighs, squeezing slightly. “I especially liked the bit where you—ah.” I wave at his crotch, blushing furiously.

He frowns. “Where I what?”

“You know.” I vaguely mime a rubbing motion.

I still cannot believe that he actually had me touch his dick during the performance. It was through his boxers, but still. My stomach flips as I remember his strong fingers guiding my hand over the fabric. The hot, solid heat of his hard-on cupped under my palm.

I squeeze my hands shut at my sides.

He blinks innocently. “I have no idea what you mean. Sorry.”

I narrow my eyes. “It’s your routine.”

“I have a really bad memory. Can you show me?”

Rolling my eyes, I reach forward and press my hand over the bulge in his crotch, stroking him slowly through his pants. A low purr of satisfaction rumbles out of his chest. His eyes fall shut as I give his shaft a squeeze.

“I’m glad you liked it,” he murmurs, hitching up the skirt of my dress and pressing even closer. His hard package pushes between my legs, and my eyes flutter. Hot lips nudge my ear. “But I’m afraid you didn’t get to see all of it.”

“What?” I gasp, my voice embarrassingly breathy.

He leans forward and licks a line down the side of my throat. “There’s one move I didn’t do tonight.” He explains, running his hands up my thighs, slipping them up my dress. I squirm uncomfortably as his soft fingertips trace the lace lining my underwear. “I didn’t want anyone catching sight of these.” He hooks his fingers under my briefs, giving them a teasing tug. I lift my hips, and he drags them right off my legs, crumpling them in his hand—and then buries his face in them. I gape. It’s one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen.

He balls up the underwear and shoves it into his pocket, then wraps his solid arms around me, pulling me close.

“Show me,” I pant. “The move.”

He grins, nips my bottom lip, and then in one swift movement lifts me right off the table, flipping me upside down. I gasp as the room spins and blood rushes to my head. “Wha—”

He foists me up, hooking my thighs around his head, and I’m brought face-to-face with the bulge in his pants. My legs squeeze around his throat, and he groans. I feel his hot breath on the inside of my thighs, and shock pounds through me. There’s no way. Right?

“Cy—” I start.

He buries his face into my wet, throbbing sex, and proceeds to eat me out ferociously. I’m surprised the scream that comes out of my mouth doesn’t send any of the security staff running to find us. My whole body wriggles and twists, swinging from Cyrus’s shoulders like a pendulum. I can’t help it; there’s no way I can stay still. The way that he’s eating me is absolutely fucking filthy. He sucks at me, he licks at me, he blows hot air over my entrance. His cheeks rub against me like he’s burrowing between my hot, damp folds. I feel a slight press of teeth against my clit and almost pass out. I can’t believe that he’s holding me up like this. It’s like a standing 69—except there is absolutely no way I have the core strength to suck him off while hanging upside down like Spiderman. Not that he seems bothered. He’s fully occupied where he is.

The first bolt of an oncoming climax jerks through me, contorting my body. I flail forward, grabbing the shelf in front of me, and just about manage to pull myself horizontal as his tongue starts fucking into me, licking inside my entrance. The wet heat of it feels unbearably good. He’s groaning into me, rough, rumbling sounds that vibrate through my swollen, sensitive tissue. I’m sobbing, my legs burning, my arms shaking, as my climax finally crashes over me in one deafening wave. Maybe it’s the position—hanging upside down, with all of my blood pounding in my head—but my vision blacks out, hot spasms of stifling pleasure wracking me over and over as my body twists and warps and shakes. Cyrus doesn’t stop. He sucks me hard right through it, until I feel the pressure in my stomach spike again, even sharper and harder than the first time. I come again almost immediately, gasping desperately for breath, clinging onto the shelf for dear life as my head swims and my muscles scream. I’ve never felt anything so intense. Tears flood my eyes, dripping onto the stone floor. I shake like every nerve in my body is fritzing. Pleasure roars through me, burning me up like wildfire, until I can barely remember my own name.

Eventually, the contractions fade, and I feel the world turning as I’m flipped right-way-up again. Cyrus gently holds me up against him, and I cling to him like a little koala, my legs locked around his hips and my wet face lodged in the curve of his neck. Tears streak against his sweaty, oil-sticky skin. He strokes my back as I slowly come back to earth.

“Holy shit,” I hiss against his neck. He laughs breathlessly, catching my lips for a deep kiss. I can taste myself on him, musky and sharp. He moans into my mouth as I suck on his tongue, and I shift my weight, feeling the press of his erection nestled in the crack of my ass. He’s hard as stone.

“Rubber,” I order, and he pulls one out of his pocket and passes it over, laughing.

“Won’t take long, honey.”

“Oh, yeah?” I rip the package open. “Get your pants off.”

Holding me up with one arm, he does as I say, easily slipping off his trousers and boxers as I cling to him.

“With you wriggling against me like that?” He growls. “You’re lucky I didn’t just come over your face.”

“I would’ve liked that,” I say honestly, and he groans, balancing his hot forehead against mine. “Not sure the cleaners would, though.” With an impressive amount of dexterity, I manage to reach down and roll the rubber on. He shudders at the touch. He’s so hard it looks almost painful; his dick is flushed and weeping, and his balls look swollen and heavy. He can barely wait for me to pull back my hand before he pushes me up against the wall, the cold stone cooling my bare back, and shoves inside me in one solid stroke. My mouth falls open in a silent moan as he starts plunging into me, setting a punishing pace that makes my eyes cross and my muscles clench. My fingernails bite into his back so hard they probably hurt, but he doesn’t seem to care. He’s desperate for release; I can feel it in his frantic thrusts and rhythmic grunts. Our skin slaps together as he fucks me into the wall. My hips twitch, and he hefts me up even higher, lifting my thighs and slamming into the sensitive spot deep inside me.

My eyes open wide, and I choke as sparks stream through my body. “God, oh, fuck, Cy. Right there.” I can feel my third release already brewing, getting stronger and stronger with each hard pound, and I scrabble at his back, desperate to reach it. I can already see the signs of him starting to fall apart. His legs and arms are shaking, and his heart is beating wildly against mine. A bead of sweat rolls from his temple, tracking down the side of his face, and I lean forward to lick it up. Apparently, that’s enough to send him over the edge.

Cyrus’s eyes close, and his grip on my hips tightens. “Fuck,” he shouts, shoving himself in to the hilt and exploding inside of me. His body shudders over mine, his head dropping to my shoulder. Seeing the strong, muscled man suddenly so weak is so damn hot it sets me off again, and I cling to him, squeezing my eyes shut and grinding myself against him. The ripples of pleasure stream through me for almost a minute, flooding my body with warmth. When they finally fade away, we just stay there, gasping.

I shift, suddenly feeling the soreness in my arms and the uncomfortable hardness of the wall behind me. Cyrus looks up at me, his brown eyes burning with some emotion I can’t read. Warmth glows in my chest, and I push back his dark hair, curling it behind his ear. I open my mouth to say something—

“Shh,” Cyrus says. He gives me one last quick peck, and then sets me gently back onto the floor, bending to pick up my shoes. “Let’s go home, sugar. I want you in my bed tonight.”

We make out in the taxi the whole drive home. I can see the driver giving us disapproving looks in the rearview mirror, which I would normally find mortifying; but right now, I don’t care. I couldn’t keep my hands off Cyrus if you paid me. When we finally stumble back up to the boys’ flat, all of the lights are off. Cami’s cot isn’t in the lounge.

“Where’s the baby?” I mumble, kicking off my heels.

“Seb sleeps with her in his room,” Cy whispers, sliding his hand down the curve of my waist.

I’m surprised. “What? Every night?”

“Ever since the second day we had her, yeah. Poor bastard never gets any sleep.”

“And he does her nappies and bottles and stuff?”

He cups my butt. “Yep.”

A creak and a muffled curse comes from one of the bedrooms, and I freeze. “Shit. Do you think she woke up?” I really don’t want Sebastian to come out of his room and find his roommate feeling up his nanny in the middle of the night.

“That’s not Seb, it’s Jack.”

I check the clock. It’s almost three. “Why is he still awake?! Don’t you guys have to catch a train in a couple of hours?!”

Cyrus kisses the side of my throat. “He won’t sleep for the next six weeks, probably. He’s too stressed about the new game.”

“Isn’t it almost done?”

“Technically.” He licks my earlobe, making me shiver. “Mm. You’re so sensitive.” He nuzzles into me. “It’s Jack’s whole thing. He needs the game to be perfect. Every negative review completely guts him.”

“Why? The last game did so well. Surely he can relax a bit now.”

“He’s like a kid. Terrible self-esteem. He needs other people to pat him on the head and tell him he’s smart.” He finds the zipper on my dress and jangles it with his finger. “Last release day, we had to confiscate all his electronics to stop him obsessively refreshing the sales and review pages.”

I frown. That doesn’t make any sense. Jack’s a little awkward, but he’s always come across as confident to me. Why would he be so insecure when it comes to his work?

Cyrus gets impatient and starts to tug the zip down.

I grab his hand. “Don’t undress me in the living room,” I hiss.

“Fine.” Without another word, he picks me up again, tossing me over his shoulder and carrying me into his bedroom, where he proceeds to show me some more of his special, secret moves. And now that we don’t have to worry about some poor cleaning lady, he has no qualms about coming on my face.