Page 13 of Stealing Cinder

"Touch me."

His hand slides down my stomach, over my hip, between my thighs. Two thick fingers spread me open and stroke through my wet folds. I gasp, my thighs falling wide for him, and the calloused pad of his thumb finds my clit with a precision that makes my breath stall.

"Like this?"

"Yes." My voice breaks on the word. "God, yes."

He works me with slow, measured strokes, his lips dragging a warm, wet trail from my neck to my collarbone to the swell of my breast. A finger slides inside me and I clench hard around the intrusion. Virgin muscle protests the stretch and he stills.

"Breathe for me, princess. Breathe for Daddy."

I force air into my lungs and my body softens around him. He pushes deeper, curling his finger against a spot that has my vision whiting out at the edges. His thumb circles my clit, steady pressure building until my hips are rocking against his hand and I can't keep quiet.

"More." I grip his wrist, pressing him harder against me. "I need more, daddy."

He adds a second finger and the stretch pulls a moan from deep in my belly. He pumps slowly, letting me adjust, his breath ragged against my ear.

"You're so tight, princess. So fucking wet for me. I can feel you dripping down my hand."

His words turn my blood to liquid fire. The orgasm gathers fast, building at the base of my spine, tightening every muscle in my lower body. His fingers stroke harder, faster, and his thumb presses my clit with a firm, circular pressure that sends fire through my veins.

I come hard. My back bows off the bed, my fingers digging into his forearm, his name tearing from my lips in a broken cry that fills the suite. He works me through it, stroking gently while the aftershocks ripple through my body in waves.

He pulls back and reaches for the nightstand. A drawer slides open. The crinkle of a foil wrapper cuts through the quiet crackle of the fire and my heavy breathing. I prop myself on my elbows and watch him roll the condom down his thick length, his scarred fingers working the latex over himself. My thighs press together at the sight.

Before I come back down, he settles between my thighs. The head of his cock presses against my entrance, hot and thick, and I wrap my legs around his waist.

"Tell me if you need me to stop."

I struggle to catch my breath. My nipples are damp and hard. I reach for them, tugging on the needy tips. "Don't you dare," I moan.

He pushes in. Slow. My body resists and he gives me time, inching forward, pulling back, working the tight muscle loose with a patience that contradicts the hunger burning in his expression. The stretch is blinding. Pressure and fullness and a sharp sting that makes me grip his shoulders and dig my nails into ink and scar tissue.

God, he’s burning hot and hard as iron.

"That's it, Cinder. Take all of me."

His eyes promise pleasure, but all I feel is…is… I grip the sheet, dig my heels in and let out a shuddering sigh.

Everything hits at once. Pleasure, pain and need. A need so deep I never knew I longed to be touched and held like this until right this second.

Samuel grips either hip and slides the rest of the way in. I gasp from the depth. He fills me completely, his hips flush against mine, his cock buried so deep the pressure borders on pain. We stay still. His forehead drops to mine, our breath mingling, his arms trembling with the effort of holding himself in check.

"Move." I whisper it against his mouth. "Please, daddy. I need to feel more of you."

Between gnashed teeth, he pushes up. Kneeling between my thighs and buried to the hilt, he looks down at me with a raw hunger that tightens my pussy around his thickness.

“Greedy princess wants more?”

Biting my lip, I nod. “Yes, daddy.”

Samuel pulls back and drives forward. The friction lights me up from the inside. He finds a rhythm, deep and steady, each stroke pulling him almost all the way out before he sinks back in to the hilt. He falls over me and I love the feel of his weight pressing me into the sheets. My nails rake down his back and he groans, the sound rough and raw against my throat.

I am not still beneath him. I meet every thrust with my hips, my heels digging into the small of his back, pulling him deeper. Pleasure coils tight in my core, building with each roll of his hips. His hand grips my hip, angling me up, and the shift hits a spot inside me that makes my head fall back and my mouth open on a soundless cry.

"Right there, daddy. Don't stop."

"Never." He drives harder. Faster. The bed shifts under us. Snow swirls past the glass and the fire throws our tangled shadows across the ceiling.