Page 44 of Stealing Cinder

He catches my wrist before I can finish.

His tongue drags my arousal from my finger, his lips closing around the tip, his dark eyes locked on mine. The taste of me on his mouth, the hunger on his face. I whimper.

He reties my wrist to the headboard with a second pillowcase stripped from the other pillow, tighter this time, knotted with a patience that borders on cruelty.

"Play with your pussy while I fuck your mouth, pretty princess."

He unknots my right hand just enough for me to reach. My fingers find my clit and I stroke, circling the swollen flesh while he kneels beside me and lifts my head with a gentle hand cupped behind my skull. His cock is thick and hard, the veined length curving toward his navel, a drop of precum glistening at the tip.

He holds himself just out of reach. Strokes his shaft once, twice, his scarred fingers gripping the base while the head hovers near my lips.

"Beg me, Cinder. Beg your daddy for his seed and I'll give it to you."

My walls clench around nothing. Warmth spills from my core and soaks the sheets beneath me.

The word climbs my throat. I can taste it on the back of my tongue, sweet and dangerous, and the last five months of control, of survival, of never asking anyone for a single thing, crumbles under the weight of wanting this man beyond reason.

"Daddy." My voice breaks on the second syllable. "Please, daddy. Let me taste it."

His growl vibrates through his chest and rolls over my skin. My nipples ache at the sound.

He guides himself past my lips. The smooth head of his cock slides over my tongue and I open wider for him, drawing him deeper, tasting salt and musk and raw heat. My fingers work my clit faster and the double sensation, his thick length filling my mouth, my own fingers stroking the fire building between my hips, sends me spiraling.

"Open wider for daddy, baby." His hand cradles the back of my head. His hips move in slow, measured thrusts. "Fuck yes. Just as I remember. Your pretty mouth fits me perfectly."

I moan around him and the vibration draws a ragged groan from deep in his chest.

He pulls free and positions himself between my thighs. The head of his cock presses against my entrance and the swollen flesh of my pussy stretches to take him. He sinks in slow, one thick inch at a time, and my body opens for him with a wet heat that pulls him deeper.

"I've been in love with you since the night I put my baby in you." His forehead drops to mine, his breath ragged, his hands shaking where they grip my hips. "Tell me you'll be mine."

"Yes, daddy."

I arch into him and he drives forward, filling me completely. My walls grip him and the stretch burns in a way that blurs the line between pain and pleasure until I can't tell where one ends and the other begins. He pulls back and thrusts deep, finding a rhythm that has my back arching, my wrists straining against the bindings, my moans filling the cold, quiet house with the only warmth it's ever known.

His thumb finds my clit and he strokes once, twice, and the orgasm I've been denied tears through me with a force that locks every muscle in my body. I cry out, shaking, clenching around him so hard he groans against my neck.

He follows me over. The hot pulse of his release deep inside me pushes a second wave of pleasure through my trembling body. His hips jerk and slow, his breath harsh against my throat.

He unties my wrists and pulls me to his chest. My fingers find the roses inked around my name over the black hole on his chest, the thorns and petals still new enough for the lines to be sharp under my fingertips.

"Claimed and all mine." His lips brush my forehead.

Samuel

Ihold her until her breathing steadies and her pulse drops from a sprint to a jog beneath the hand I keep pressed against her ribs. Her blonde hair fans across the dark sheets, tangled and damp, catching the faint garden light filtering through the glass.

I press a kiss to her temple and ease out of bed. My feet hit the warm concrete and I cross the room to the closet. The gold box sits on the top shelf where I put it three days ago, buried under folded sweaters I never wear because a man doesn't keep a ring in a nightstand drawer. Too predictable. Too easy to second-guess.

The lid opens with a quiet snap. Sapphires rim the setting in a deep blue bed, and the diamond at the center catches the low light and scatters it across the ceiling in small white stars.

I carry it back to the bed and untangle the last of the pillowcase from the iron headboard, tossing the ruined fabric to the floor. She watches me with heavy-lidded eyes, her body still flushed pink, her lips swollen.

I kneel beside the bed and take her hand.

Her light blue eyes go wide. Silver flickers through the pale irises and her bottom lip disappears between her teeth.

"You already asked me in the shower."