Page 11 of The Billionaire's Cinderella

I give the corner of his mouth a gentle lick, tasting man and chocolate. Ambrosia. And if I angle my head, licking my way past his lips and into the slick depths of his mouth, that’s not the end of the world, is it?

He evidently doesn’t think so. An approving rumble gathers in his throat as he shifts toward me, helping himself to handfuls of my hair on either side of my face as he deepens the kiss. He’s got this way of being languid yet commanding, taking control and setting the easy pace with lush sweeps of his tongue. Our lips glide against each other, mapping and exploring. Figuring each other out. It doesn’t last long. It doesn’t take long. By the time he lets me up for air, my decision is made. There’s no choice for me to make other than a graceful and eager surrender to the inevitable.

In this crazy world of online dating, where I’ve never successfully made the leap from meeting a perfect stranger for drinks to hooking up with him that night, it never crosses my mind to ask Ryker Black to stop touching me. I wouldn’t dream of it.

The harsh sound of our breath takes up my entire world, drowning out whatever the dinosaurs are currently doing in Jurassic Park. He eases back just enough for his eyes, glazed and glittering now, to take up my entire field of vision.

“If you don’t want to take off your clothes so I can smear ganache all over you and lick it off, now’s your chance to tell me.”

A wave of euphoria almost makes me laugh. He’s not serious, is he?

I rise to my knees, untie my dress’s little belt and sweep it off my head. I drop it to the floor and swiftly unhook my nude strapless bra so I can add it to the pile.

“Do I look like a fool to you?”

His attention snags on my breasts as they bounce back into place. My pink nipples. My belly and hips. My nude bikinis and the hidden cleft between my thighs. He makes a sound that’s choked and triumphant as the color rises over his face and he yanks his T-shirt off and tosses it aside. Then he licks his lips and, shooting me a look of dark intent, rises over me to press me onto my back.

And I, the shy and inhibited one in my friend group, the one who never talks about her sexual exploits because she never has any sexual exploits worth sharing, can’t stretch out and wriggle my way out of my panties fast enough.

Let’s just say that no part of my uneaten slice of cake goes to waste. He starts by smearing some across my lips, licking it away and kissing me hard and deep so I can taste it too. He paints the side of my neck with it. The valley between my breasts. Each nipple. My belly button. My pussy. He makes an unholy mess of the cake, his expensive sofa and my body.

Then he licks me clean, savoring every inch the way a stallion savors a salt lick.

I would love to tell you that I give him the blow job of his life once he finishes up with me. That I demonstrate some modicum of skill. But I don’t. He never gives me a chance. I’m too busy squirming and laughing. Pleading with him to stop and begging him for more. Eventually he makes his way south and settles between my legs. I’m so frenzied by this point that I grab handfuls of his hair to keep him right where he is. If his poor tongue is tired by now, he shows no sign of it. But it doesn’t take much to send me over the edge. A swirl and a nuzzle, and I’m done in spectacular fashion.

I come with an astonished cry as the pleasure concentrates in all my clenching inner muscles and then mushrooms to every far corner of my body. My hips jackknife. My back arches and my eyes roll closed. Even my toes stiffen with the aftershocks.

It takes me a minute to catch my breath and get my thundering heartbeat back under some semblance of control, during which time he slips away, fiddles with a wrapper and comes right back.

I assume he’s slid on a condom, but I don’t know or particularly care in my dazed state.

When I open my eyes again, he’s right there watching me, the long length of his body, sans shorts now, heavy atop mine. It’s like being x-rayed. There’s nowhere to look. Nowhere to hide that he won’t see. No way to stop the rush of heat up my neck and over my cheeks or the sultry smile from overtaking my face.

Hell, let him have it all. He earned it.

“I liked the sound of that,” he says.

“Oh yeah? You’ve never heard a woman come before? That surprises me.”

Startled laugh from him. “I’ve never heard you come before. I plan to hear it a lot. Just so you know. So what now?”

“I don’t know,” I say, slowly sliding one of my legs up the back of his leg. “Back to the movie? Popcorn?”

We laugh together. Something about the intimacy of lying together, naked, while staring into each other’s eyes and his smile warm on my face is much more intimate than anything else that has happened tonight. Much more disarming.

“That could work,” he says, ducking his head for a teasing little kiss that inflames me all over again. “Or I could fuck you.”

“Oh.” I frown thoughtfully. “I hadn’t really thought of that. I guess we could try it.”

I’d expected another joint laugh. But he pauses, looking troubled.

“What? It’s a joke.”

“I’m not sure I should. It could be a mistake. You’re already spectacular. I’m close to losing my head here.”

His evident sincerity makes my heart ache. Not because he means it but because I know he doesn’t. Men never do. Especially in the heat of the moment. I’ll be fine if I remember that.

“I think we should risk it,” I say gravely.

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