Page 34 of The Billionaire's Cinderella

With that, I press my lips to her shoulder and my hands to her body, pressing up against her back.

The full-body contact with her undoes me. My dick finds a nice little hollow between the two halves of her ass, giving me something to thrust against as I soap her up. I glide my hands up and down her torso, from pussy to neck, pausing to give special attention to her breasts. I swirl. I massage. I savor the feeling of the gathering tension inside her when I roll her pebbled nipples between my fingers. I live for the strained heaving of her rib cage as she tries to catch her breath. I love the way she moans and squeezes her thighs together when I press my fingers to her clit and hold them there.

“You like that?” I say in her ear.

“Not sure,” she says, her voice throaty. “Do it again. Help me decide.”

“Happy to.”

I rhythmically finger her. She pumps her hips. I nuzzle her neck. She cries out, turning her head to receive my open-mouthed kiss. I go nice and slow, taking my time about filling her mouth all the way with my tongue. The languid tempo drives her crazy. I figured it would. She rises on her tiptoes and runs her hand up to clutch the back of my head and hold me in place as she arches against me. Not that I’m going anywhere. Not when I have her teetering on this edge and whispering my name in broken syllables when I let her up for air.

I admit that I savor my power over her a little too much. A rookie mistake. So I’m slow off the mark when she breaks the kiss, pulls free and turns to face me, her eyes a wicked blaze of blue. Slower still when she presses her delectable lips to the base of my neck and licks her way down my body, mouthing my nipples and belly button along the way. By the time she kneels at my feet and flashes me a look of intent, I genuinely don’t know what to do.

Do I want her mouth on me? Yes. Am I concerned about her setting me off like a New Year’s Eve firework? Also yes.

“Hang on, Ella,” I say hoarsely. “I don’t— Fuuuck.”

So that’s that. Any pending protest dies a quick death in my throat as she suctions me deep inside her mouth. It’s hot in there. Slick and voluptuous. She applies just the right amount of pressure. Just the right amount of tongue action.

And I am lost.

I’d love to say that I maintain full control the whole time, but I’d be lying. I lean back against the tiles and let my eyes rolled closed. Grip her head between my hands, squeezing ropy strands of her wet hair. I savor this moment the way she’s clearly savoring me.

But I can only stand so much of this sweet torture. Mindless now, I let her go and pull free before bending down and grabbing her by the upper arms to help her up. I’m not patient about it. I’m not gentle as I spin her around and help her plant her hands on the glass to brace herself. I start to nudge her feet apart to widen her stance, but she’s way ahead of me, bending at the waist and cocking her hips exactly right. Leaving me free to brace one of my hands next to hers and use the other to grip myself.

I’m already delving between her legs when common sense returns to me at the last possible moment.

“Please tell me you’re on the pill.”

“I’m on the pill,” she quickly says.

Let me pause here to note that I don’t give a fuck if she’s on the pill or not. Not for myself, anyway. I’m disease-free. I assume that Ella is also. The idea of getting her pregnant holds a primal appeal for me at this moment, something that’s never happened to me before my life. But if we have a kid, we have a kid. There are worse things. Except that I don’t know where she stands about kids and don’t want her to be angry with me. I never want to see disappointment in her eyes or know that I did something to derail her plans for her own life.

Anyway, it’s a moot point. So I brush aside the bizarre tinge of disappointment I feel to know that she’s responsibly using birth control when I am not and thrust inside her with the power and single-minded focus of a heat-seeking missile.

It’s a snug enough fit that we both make a strangled sound of shock. Of ecstasy. The intensity is so powerful that my vision fades for a second. Honest to God, I don’t know what happens when the two of us are together like this, but I’m here to tell you, based on my years of experience with countless women, that this is not normal. It’s so abnormal that I would consider it an honor and a privilege to die right here, right now. Exactly like this. At least I’d go for a worthwhile cause.

“Oh my God, Ryker,” she says as I begin to move fast and hard. It’s an agonized plea. A helpless attempt to understand this alchemy we create together. “I can’t take it. What are you doing to me?”

My answer rises out of nowhere, strong and sure.

“I’m the guy for you,” I say as I fuck her harder, until her rapturous cries mingle with the slapping sounds of our bodies smacking together. “I’m making sure you know it.”

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