Prince Charming (Cinderella 2) - Page 63

“Your asshole is adorable.” He nips at my butt cheek. “Baby.”

“I hate you,” I growl. “You always gotta ruin it.”

His chuckle is hot and tickles my thighs. I moan when he pushes his tongue into my pussy, seemingly eager to taste every inch of me. My legs tremble and buckle the closer he brings me to orgasm. All it takes is a hard suck of my clit, and I’m seeing stars, begging for him to give me more.

“Hands on the mirror, baby.” He stands up and smacks my ass again. “Let me push your face against it while I fuck you, and I’ll buy you your damn boat.”

I nod because who doesn’t want a yacht?

His fingers twist in my hair, and he yanks, turning my head so that my cheek rests on the cool surface. The sound of his belt coming undone and then the zipper going down makes me shiver. He manages to undress enough to pull his dick out and slaps it against my ass. I can’t see my reflection—thank god for that since this dress is frightening to look at—but I imagine he’s enjoying seeing me at his mercy. The groan that escapes him as he pushes into me with one thrust is empowering.

I drive this man crazy.

Me.

Not anyone else.

Just me.

“Unngh,” I garble out, unable to form words or complete thoughts.

He barks out a harsh laugh, his thrusting hard and nearly painful. All I can do is hold on while he takes everything I have to offer. From this angle and at the forceful way with which he fucks into me, I lose all control with a yelp of his name. As I shudder with pleasure, he yanks out of me. Hot come splatters on my ass, claiming me as his.

“Oh no,” he rumbles as he unzips my dress. “I guess I’ll need to use this lovely dress to clean up the mess I made, baby.”

I hear the telltale sign of pictures being taken from his phone which causes a thrill to shoot through me. He then tugs the material down on the dress and uses it to swipe away his come. Once he’s satisfied, he strips it the rest of the way off me before pulling my panties back into place.

“You could go just like this,” he offers, his large palms roaming up my bare ribs. “I wouldn’t mind.”

“You and half of New York.” I reach over to grab the pretty black dress. “What should I name my yacht, fiancé?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. You’re going to name a boat too?”

“Naming boats is a thing,” I argue. “How about ‘Win’s Sugar Baby’?”

“How about no.”

I laugh as I slide on the dress. He zips me into it. His eyes narrow as he drinks in my appearance. Because I’m a brat, I spin around so he can admire the whole thing.

“Also a no,” he growls, reaching for the zipper.

He knows I look good in this dress and the spoiled boy doesn’t want anyone looking at what’s his.

“Too bad.” I smack his hand away. “I love it. I’m wearing this one.”

He gives my ass a squeeze. “Hurry and find some shoes to go with it before I change my mind.”

“Are you worried all the men we come across are going to try and steal your girlfriend away?” I taunt, grinning evilly at him.

“Not my girlfriend. And no.”

“So sure?”

“Let us not forget about the last man who tried it.”

I scowl at him. “What? What did you do?”

“Remember that twat at the bar who gave you his number?”

“Hot suited guy?”

His jaw clenches. “Wes. Unemployed now.”

“You’re evil, Winston Constantine.”

“Tell me something I don’t know, brat.”

My mind reels as I find a pair of shoes and Winston pays the bill. Winston does a great job of pretending he doesn’t care, but he does. He so does. It makes me want to sing it to him just to watch him deny it. I’m grinning by the time we make it to his car.

Not his car.

Perry’s car.

“No,” I groan. “Don’t make me ride in it.”

“You don’t have a choice, Cinderelliott. Get in.”

“Where’s Perry?”

“He Ubered home.”

“No.” I gasp, glaring at him.

“No,” he admits with a chuckle. “I wouldn’t allow him in one of those disease-infested death traps. Mother circled back in her car to fetch him. I’ll pick him up tomorrow.”

I climb into the ugly orange muscle car and wait for him to join me. Once inside, he doesn’t start the vehicle, just turns to look at me, intensity burning in his eyes.

“What?”

“I took care of it.”

“Took care of what?”

“The triplets.”

“Oh.” I shiver at the mention of their name. “How?”

“Let’s just say they got exactly what they deserve.”

Before he can start the car, I climb over the console, straddling his lap. My fingers tease at the hairs at his nape as my mouth finds his. We kiss with an urgency we haven’t had thus far in our bizarre relationship. I pour my gratefulness into the kiss. He returns it with vows to protect me no matter what. Neither of us have to speak, but I know.

Tags: K. Webster Cinderella Billionaire Romance
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