Stealing Cinderella(48)
Hopelessness threatens to swallow me whole as I click to the next week in the schedule, not really paying attention to the blank spaces until I see one dated a week after our time comes to an end.
Aokigahara Forest?
Another oddity. Is he planning to go on holiday?
“What are you doing?”
My head snaps up at the sound of Thorsen’s voice, and the air in my lungs seems to evaporate as I meet his stormy gaze. He’s dressed in a smart black suit with a bowtie, and his hair is styled in that artfully messy way that makes him look like he just fucked someone’s brains out. I just don’t want to believe that’s true.
“How many of us are there?” I ask.
“What?” He stalks into the room, towering over the desk as he removes the leather case from my grasp and slams it shut.
“How many other women do you do this with?” My voice wavers, betraying the emotions I still can’t quite admit. “Do you have other women stashed at different houses? You go see them, and then you come back here to me?”
He stares at me, his expression blank as if he’s trying to determine something for himself. “What does it matter?”
“It matters.” I yank the robe he gave me around my body as I stand, my sudden insecurity threatening to expose me. I’m on the verge of tears, and I don’t even know why. But I gave myself to him. I gave him my body and maybe a piece of my soul too. And now he’s standing here, emotionally bankrupt, asking me why it matters.
“Are you having sex with other women?” I demand.
“What would you say if I told you I was?” His face is a mixture of curiosity and irritation, and I can’t tell if he’s trying to provoke me, or if he just thinks I’m insane.
“I’d say I was leaving.” I swallow.
Shadows dance beneath his eyes as he circles the desk, and I stumble back in the opposite direction. I don’t even know why I do it, but it’s just instinct that makes me run. Out of the office, down the stairs, and toward the kitchen. I can hear his footsteps behind me, quick and hard. He doesn’t have to run to keep up. His legs are long, and the predator inside him is confident. He will catch me, and he will devour me.
I make it as far as the terrace doors before he grabs me from behind and hoists me into his arms. He stalks down the hall to my room and tosses me onto the bed inside. I crawl toward the opposite edge, and he grabs me by the ankle, yanking me back. He pins me against the mattress with the weight of his body, and reaches beneath me, yanking the fabric of my robe apart. I squirm against him when he shoves his fingers between my thighs and grinds his hard cock against my ass.
“You’re not leaving me, Ella,” he growls into my ear. “We had a deal.”
“I’m not sharing you with someone else.” The words tumble from my lips before I can filter them, and Thorsen freezes behind me.
His touch is surprisingly gentle when he brushes the hair back away from my face. When he turns me in his arms to face him and presses his hips between my legs, I can’t escape the intensity in his eyes.
“You don’t have to,” he murmurs so quietly, I’m not even sure I heard him correctly.
In the next breath, his lips are on mine. Kissing me. Tasting me. Fueling this craving for him that I can no longer deny. He fumbles with the zipper on his pants and removes his cock while he blazes a trail of hot kisses down over my throat, and eventually, my nipples.
When he sucks my breast between his teeth, my hands find refuge in the dark, silky strands of his hair. I’m sore, but I want him. No, I need him inside me again. When I drag my fingers down over his shoulders, he bumps the head of his cock against me.
I suck in a breath, shivering as he begins to push his thick, hard flesh inside me. He’s so fucking big, everywhere. His hands, his dick, his gladiator body. He could crush me. Smother me. Choke me. But right now, he isn’t Thorsen, the dark prince. He’s Thorsen, the gentle lover, kissing my face as he waits for my body to give way to him. I can’t even pretend there’s any other option as I melt beneath his touch. How little it takes for him to bend me to his will.
“Min gudinne.” His breath tickles my ear.
Using his palms to spread my thighs farther apart, he adjusts his body snugly into the space made just for him. He feeds his cock into me with a torturous slowness, his lips clashing with mine. And this is where we begin and end. He moves in me, rolling his hips, thrusting as his suit scrapes over my nipples. He’s poetry in motion, and each angle never fails to capture my attention all over again. He fucks me the way I imagine every woman must want to be fucked. It’s soft, and then rough, all-consuming, fire and passion.
I cling to him desperately, praying it never ends as his teeth scrape over my throat, my collarbone, the most sensitive places on my body. He sucks at my skin, tasting me as he thrusts deep into me, spiraling out of control.
“Come for me.” His hand moves between my thighs, and in a matter of seconds, he’s setting off an explosion.
The aftershocks are still crashing through me when he buries his cock with a growl, releasing himself inside me again. His fingertips come up to kiss my face reverently, and when his eyes meet mine, something changes between us. The earth stops moving, and everything becomes quiet and still. Does he realize it too? Does he know he just made love to me?
When I reach up to touch his face, his eyes fall shut. For one blissful moment, he gives in to me, leaning against my palm, breath ragged. How long has he been starving for this affection? How long has he gone without?