Stealing Cinderella(30)

I’m still thinking of her lips wrapped around my cock, and it’s unsettling how much upheaval she’s created in my sense of normalcy. I’ve had blow jobs before. I’ve had releases before. But I’ve never had someone worship me the way that Ella did. I’ve never felt… so much. Her passion. Her pretty eyes staring up at me with the desire to please me. The warmth seeping back into my veins and reminding me that I’m human. I don’t know what the fuck she’s doing to me, but I don’t like it. And still, I’m considering how long is reasonable before I make her do it again.

“Come eat,” I order.

Her eyes dart to the food, and she hesitates. I can’t understand why. She’s hardly eaten since she’s been here, and I don’t want the added task of forcing food down her throat.

“I don’t think I can sit,” she says finally.

“Your ass is still sore?”

She nods, and something like guilt settles into my gut. I’ve never had to take care of someone before. I don’t even know where to begin. She’s mine now, and if I were a true dominant, I would know how to take care of my toys. But Ella is the first who’s only ever been mine, and this is new for me.

I think I should tell her to deal with it because I can’t afford to be soft with her. But even as I’m telling myself that, I’m walking into the bathroom and digging through the cupboard. When I find the aloe, I return and try to appear as if I know what the hell I’m doing.

“Come here.” I sit down on the edge of the bed, and Ella obeys me, padding over to me softly.

Setting the bottle aside, I reach for the knot on her robe and untie it, pushing the seams apart until the silky material slides off her shoulders and pools on the floor. Her nipples are tight, and I want to bury my face in the softness of her tits right now.

I need to focus on what it is I’m meant to be doing, so I tug her closer and hoist her body up, laying her across my thighs. The soft, rounded curves of her ass still bear the marks of my handprints, and I’m not surprised that she’s hesitant to sit. She will feel me every time she does, and the idea is far too agreeable for my own liking.

Squeezing some aloe from the bottle, I smear it over her ass cheeks, and she sucks in a breath between her teeth. My hand pauses, and I try to gentle my touch for her benefit, which has the immediate effect of making her relax against me.

I continue to massage the aloe into her skin, long after it’s even necessary. But my eyes are on her face, studying the lines and slopes. Her eyes flutter in appreciation when my fingers skim over her curves. I didn’t see it before, but I can see it now. She likes my affection.

I should stop. I shouldn’t ever give her what she wants. But instead, my fingers slip between her thighs. Ella whimpers when I touch her clit, and her eyes fly open, snaring mine into a holding pattern I can’t seem to break. Neither one of us can look away as I continue to stroke her. Within seconds, her lips part and her body responds to me. I’ve never experienced someone so reactive to my touch, and I want more. I want all of it.

I pull her up, startling her as I flip her onto her back and lower my body over hers. My fingers find their home between her thighs again, and I latch onto her breast with my mouth, sucking at her until she arches up into me, her fingers curling into my hair. It’s an unwritten rule that she isn’t supposed to touch me, but I don’t stop her. I don’t stop her because it feels strangely comfortable.

When I’m done assaulting her tits with my mouth, I do the next illogical thing, which is to bring my lips to hers. Ella kisses me back, and I swallow her pleasure as I bring her closer to climax. Our faces are a breath apart, and it’s an intimacy I’ve never known. But I can’t stop touching her, tasting her, inhaling her. I feel drunk and feverish when she comes with a strangled cry. Her fingers dig into my scalp, and it only intensifies the manic energy surging through my body. Long after I’ve milked the last of her release from her, I’m still kissing her. Branding her with my hands and teeth and lips. I don’t know what the fuck she’s doing to me.

“Ella, stop,” I demand, but I’m the one who can’t stop.

She looks up at me, confusion shining in her eyes, and I know I’ve betrayed the war inside my head. She can see how she’s affecting me. When I rear back with a ragged breath, the ice fortress I’ve built around me freezes her out again. Nobody gets inside. Not even her.

“Eat your goddamn lunch.” I stagger away from her and head for the door. When I slam it behind me, I collapse against the wall outside, trying to figure out what the fuck just happened.





15





Thorsen





Restlessness breeds with every passing second of the afternoon as Hayes shuttles me from one royal obligation to the next. Meetings, tea appointments, agendas to discuss. It never ends. And when he tells me that my father would like to meet with me, my blood pressure skyrockets.

“What for?” I demand.

Hayes blinks as if he can’t imagine how I could ever question the king’s requests. “I’m not certain. But he asked that you come now.”

The threat is left unspoken. There will be consequences if I don’t go. Consequences I’m not prepared to deal with. If I don’t show up, my father isn’t above sending a pair of royal guards to drag me to the palace to present me before him. This is just one way he likes to remind everyone he’s in control. He’s the king, and whatever he says, we all must do. For thirty years, he’s controlled my life. And I’m officially fucking over it. But every time I consider the alternative, I think of my mother.