Page 17 of Cinderella's Fling with the Off-Limits Billionaire

He pressed his tip to her sex, but stayed just there, and said, “I’m going to go slowly, okay? You tell me if it hurts.”

So, he knew he was big. He’d obviously heard it before.

She nodded. “Uh huh.”

Of course she’d tell him if it hurt. But it wouldn’t. Somehow, she just knew that being with Leandro would feel as sublime as everything else they’d shared to this point.

Just like he’d promised, he entered her slowly, his breath held, his eyes on her face as he eased himself into her and Skye’s muscles tightened around him.

She moaned with ecstasy, and he kept going, until she felt so full, so stimulated in every cell, that she almost couldn’t breathe.

“Okay?” He asked, voice deep.

She nodded, groaned again. “Better than okay. You’re incredible.”

The look on his face melted her bones.

And then, he started to move, pulling out of her just as gently as he’d entered, thrusting slowly at first, to give her a chance to get used to him, and then faster, like she needed, fast, and huge, and so rock hard. She thrashed her head from one side to the other, her whole body exploding, everything changing shape in the world, so there was only this. Her and him, immense pleasure.

“God, Leandro,” she cried, as another orgasm built, and she felt herself tipping over the edge of an enormous chasm. “Please don’t stop.”

“I have no intention of it,” he said between breaths. He kissed her though, his tongue echoing his movements, and his hands returned to her breasts, feeling them in his palms almost as if he couldn’t believe they were natural.

“You are so beautiful,” he groaned against her lips. And she didn’t even mind hearing him say that, because it wasn’t just words from Leandro. He made her feel beautiful. He seemed to be worshipping her and she liked it.

The next time pleasure built, wave upon wave upon wave, Skye dug her fingernails into his shoulders, sweat beading her brow, and she felt him pulse inside of her, buried as deep as he could go, and he cried out just a second after she’d tumbled off the edge of the earth, so his own pleasure wracked his body as hers was being sobbed into the room. Their voices mingled, their bodies were entwined, everything about them was in lockstep.

He collapsed back onto the bed, his absence an immediate regret for Skye, because his possession of her had been so complete and absolute.

Euphoria and pleasure flooded her body.

He’d made her feel like the sexiest, most beautiful woman on earth. He’d made her feel confident and empowered. But he’d also given her the gift of being her first lover since Jay. Of showing her that there was life after her awful, controlling, manipulative ex.

“Thank you,” she said with sincerity, because this was about so much more than two people having sex. He’d helped her gain some of her freedom back. He’d never know it, but that didn’t matter. Skye was aware of what he’d done for her; she’d always remember him for that.

“The thanks are unnecessary,” he responded. “And mutual.”

She smiled across at him then glanced towards the view.

When he’d first asked her to spend the night, she’d found it easy—and sensible—to agree to a curtailed version of his plan. But now, soporific from so much pleasure and ecstasy, in this incredibly comfortable bed, Skye would have given just about anything to fall asleep here, with him.

The thought galvanized her into action. She stood quickly, bent down to retrieve her clothes. Which reminded her—, “I left my underwear in your hotel suite,” she said, cheeks flushed.

“Yes, you did.”

“You found them?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” A divot formed between her brows. “Shall I take them?”

“I’m not sure.” He was watching her with such a look of wanton possession and need that her insides were trembling again. “I might want to keep them.”

“Seriously?”

“A souvenir.”

She blinked, wide-eyed. “My underpants?”

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