Page 12 of Cinderella and the Daddy
Please stop? Please more?
He’s messing with my mind. It’s all pleasure and heat.
His other hand strokes the length of his dick, slick with precum. He groans against my skin.
“Please, what?” His other hand presses against my core. “You want to come? Beg for it.”
“Please... please.” My voice is mewling. He continues to torment me with his fingers rubbing with just enough pressure. I can feel myself getting close, but he waits until the last second before pulling away from me completely.
I scream in frustration, pushing him away savagely. “Asshole!”
Luka chuckles low, his eyes dark and knowing. “Fucking with you is going to be fun.”
I feel vulnerable as fuck—and incredibly turned on.
He steps closer, pulling my body to the edge of the hood. His hand wraps around his cock and brushes the tip against my entrance.
My body is singing. Desperate. He presses forward, and pain slices through the pleasure, sharp and unexpected. My gasp echoes off the concrete walls. Luka goes statue-still, his face transforming as understanding hits.
'Bozhe moy.' The Russian falls from his lips like a prayer or a curse. “You've never...”
“Don't.” I dig my nails into his shoulders. “Don't you dare stop now.”
Something predatory flashes in his eyes, darker than desire. 'You should have told me.'
“Would it have mattered?”
His smile is all sharp edges. “No. But I would have taken my time ruining you.”
He moves slowly at first, carefully, until the pain fades and something else builds in its place.
His body pumps into mine. The car rocks slightly beneath us. I don't care if we leave marks on the perfect paint job. Nothing has ever felt this right.
He bends forward and whispers something in my ear. It’s in Russian. I have no idea what he said, but hot damn, it felt amazing. It felt like a silky caress.
And then he pulls back, his hands on my hips as he glares down at me. He suddenly looks angry. And then he’s pounding into me.
I cry out. The pleasure and pain are warring inside me. It all feels too good.
I reach out, grabbing his biceps. He’s still wearing his t-shirt. I dig my nails in through the soft fabric and cry out when the world shatters in front of my eyes. He follows me over the edge with a low groan that I feel in my bones.
He collapses against me, his weight pressing me into the warm metal. The Mustang's hood creaks beneath us, a sound that should matter but doesn't. Not when his forehead rests against mine and his breath mingles with mine in the space between us.
Reality returns in pieces. The ache between my thighs, the scent of motor oil and sex, the knowledge that everything just changed.
When he pulls back, his eyes hold something I can't read. Possession, maybe. Or regret."
He pulls away and zips himself up, those hazel eyes studying my face with an intensity that makes me want to hide. I slide off the car and scramble for my clothes.
I’m naked, and he’s fully clothed.
"Don't pretend you didn't want that," he says quietly. "I felt how wet you were for me."
Heat floods my cheeks, but I manage to roll my eyes. "Are you done? Get what you wanted?"
A slow, predatory smile spreads across his face. He leans down until his lips brush my ear.
"You think I'm done with you? That was just the beginning."
