Page 12 of Stealing Cinder

He backs me across the room until my knees hit the edge of the bed. The sheets are cool under my palms when I brace myself. He pulls back just enough to reach for the zipper at my back.

"You're shaking."

"I know."

"Do you want to stop?"

"No." The word comes fast and sure. I reach for his jacket and push it off his shoulders. "I want this. I'm choosing this."

His jacket hits the floor. I work the buttons of his shirt with trembling fingers and he stands perfectly still, letting me set the pace. Button by button, his body appears. Ink covers most of his skin. I push the shirt open and my breath catches.

Tattoos of torn flesh span his inner ribs, so detailed the exposed rib bones and shredded red muscle look real in the firelight. The work travels across his chest and down the sides of his lats, revealing more bone along the way. And over his heart, where the ink parts to reveal skin, sits a black hole. Dark. Empty. Deliberate.

My fingers hover over the void. The fire pops and hisses behind me. Snow drifts past the windows.

"That's intense."

Those dark eyes lift from where I touch the place over his heart to hold my gaze. His gaze holds mine, and every bit of ink on his body makes sense. The black hole. The torn flesh. The exposed bone. This man wears his damage on his skin because there's nowhere left to bury it.

"It's honest, princess."

“Brutally so.”

I trace the edge of the black hole and his stomach muscles contract under my touch. He catches my wrist, brings my fingers to his mouth, and presses his lips against the tips.

"Your turn, princess."

He pulls the zipper the rest of the way down. My dress pools at my feet and I stand in front of him in black lace panties and heels. I didn’t bother with a bra. I couldn’t stand the tight constraint of the elastic and silk when I dressed this morning.

Cool air tightens my skin and my nipples peak hard in the chill.

His gaze moves over me. Down the line of my throat, over the swell of my breasts, my belly, my hips. He takes his time and I let him.

"You are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on."

He sinks to his knees in front of me.

The sight of this man, all muscle, ink and scarred knuckles, kneeling while snow falls past the windows, sends a raw, aching need through me. He hooks his fingers into the sides of my panties and drags them down my legs. As he does, he presses a kiss to my hip bone. My inner thigh. The crease where my leg meets my body. Each kiss is gentle. Each one a question my body answers with a shiver.

For a known killer, he’s a gentle beast.

My fingers sink into his hair and I pull the tie free. Dark locks fall around his shoulders. Silver threads catch the firelight and begs for me to slip my fingers into it as I ride him from above.

My pussy clenches and releases at the idea.

Unaware of my thoughts, he lifts me. One arm under my knees, one around my back, and the world tilts as he lays me in the center of the bed. The sheets are impossibly soft against my bare skin, cool and smooth, like sliding into water. He strips his pants and boxer briefs in one motion and my mouth goes dry.

He is big. Everywhere. Thick thighs, hard abdomen, and his cock, rigid and heavy, curving toward his navel. The size difference between us screams when he climbs over me, bracing on his forearms. His body dwarfs mine. His shadow swallows me whole.

With one of his callused hands holding my neck, he says, "Look at me, Cinder."

I drag my gaze up from where his cock rests against my inner thigh. Dark eyes hold mine. The hunger is raw, barely leashed, but the steadiness is what turns my insides liquid. He's in no rush. Patient and controlled. The combination wrecks me.

He lowers his mouth to my breast and drags the flat of his tongue across my nipple. My back arches off the mattress. He does it again, then pulls the tight peak into his mouth and sucks until my fingers twist in the sheets and my hips grind up into his.

"Daddy, please."

"Please what?" He switches to the other breast. Teeth close around the tender flesh and the sharp edge of pain makes my toes curl.