Page 101 of Cinderella Is Faking It

“The alternative is, I just lean back,” I did as I said, “and we wait, and they can find you tied up, spread wide open, with that sweet pussy glistening so beautifully.”

She jerked and winced against her restraints once again. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Fine. Fine. Just. Please keep going.”

“That’s my girl.” I dipped my head back in between her legs and she moaned with pleasure when I sucked and teased her clit. I glanced sideways at the jogger who was close enough to make out their red windbreaker. Since I had no intention of traumatizing Del, I decided to mix in a little pain with her pleasure - that always seemed to work. I pulled her clit in between my teeth, nipping at her nerves, at the same time that I pushed three fingers into her pulsing opening. More than she’d ever taken before. She cried out loud enough for the whole neighborhood to hear, shuddering and convulsing around my fingers, and falling still after a few more thrusts.

Her body was still pulsing with aftershocks when I scooped her up and sat her on our blanket. I released the claw clip and wrapped her in a large towel, just moments before the runner went past.

I still had my eyes on the guy, making sure he wasn’t lurking, when Del erupted in giggles. “I can’t believe we did that.”

She held her hands out to me, eyes glassy, but a content smile between her flushed cheeks. I loosened her bikini top from her hands, and she shook them out before dropping on her back, arms outstretched on either side. The towel still pooled around her waist, but she was baring her chest to the world. Free. Beautiful. “Are you still going to pretend sex in public isn’t your thing or can we agree that you have an exhibitionist side?”

Another bout of cute giggles erupted, her chest trembling. “Maybe. Seriously.” She snapped back up and clasped my face in her hands. “That was thrilling. I have never smoked a cigarette in my life, but I would even take another drag from your disgusting cigar right now. I feel like this is the kind of orgasm that warrants a cigarette after.”

“I can’t offer a cigarette, but I saw that you packed some cookies.”

“Good enough. I’ll take it.”

Just this morning I’d thought that the fresh-faced, bikini-clad, summer-morning-Del was my favorite version of her, but I changed my mind. This, tousled hair, glowing cheeks, towel wrapped around her hips and not a care in the world who might see her tits while she scraped the milk cream off her Oreo? This version was a thousand times better.

FORTY

“So Camila isthe one who taught you to cook?”

“Yes,” he replied and pointed at a metal nutcracker contraption thingy hanging on the wall behind me. I twisted around where I sat on the counter and handed it to him. He squeezed a small white nubby vegetable through it. A split second later, the scent of garlic filled the kitchen. Huh. I’d never seen fresh garlic, apparently. “It was, just like reading, a way for me to get away from my mother’s idea of what I should be doing for a while. Georgia never dared to go up against my abuela. That wasn’t a fight she could have won.” He shot me a smile that hinted at just how much he’d admired his grandmother.

My mom had moved back to Hartford to be closer to her mother after my dad’s death, but to me grandma had always been just a relative you saw for birthdays and holidays. “Why did you keep up with it?”

“Cooking? Because it tastes better than takeout. Here, try.” He held a spoon of Bolognese sauce up to my mouth.

“I already know you’re a great cook,” I said but tried the sauce anyway, since he’d even adapted the recipe to work without wine. It was the perfect mixture of sweet tomatoes and hearty beef and I nodded enthusiastically. “Mmh. Mh-hmm.”

He beamed and stole a quick kiss from my closed lips. God, he was so cute when I approved of his cooking. All proud of himself for a job well done.

“You’re going to ruin my taste buds. How am I ever going to be content with a cheap hot dog from a street cart again?”

“You should never have been in the first place.” He chuckled and put a lid on the sauce, before stepping into the space between my knees. “But if this means those taste buds are all mine to please, I’ll take it.”

“You’re so possessive.”

“You have no idea.” He claimed my mouth in a lip-bruising kiss that gave me a very good idea of it though. He only stopped when the little egg-shaped timer beeped to remind us that the pasta was ready, leaving me breathless and flushed while he finished prepping dinner.

I sank back in my chair after eating enough spaghetti Bolognese to put me in a food coma. Maybe I should have thought that through, considering my bodycon dress now made me look 5 months pregnant, and I was unable to move, but any plans I had to look sexy or do anything sexy had dissipated by my second plate.

“Wait here,” Beck said and disappeared into the house, leaving me alone on the patio with the flickering candles and the ocean waves crashing in the distance. This had to be the best first date I’d ever been taken on. Before the small twinge of guilt in the back of my mind could spiral out of control, Beck stepped back onto the porch, holding a matte black box with a red bow on it. “I figured you might like this better than flowers or chocolates.”

“You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“If I’d known I’d buy you a Porsche, I might not have splurged on this.” I shot him a glare, because I was so not accepting a Porsche from him, but he just grinned and placed the box in front of me. “Open it.”

I pulled off the thick silk ribbon, draped it around my neck like a scarf, and flipped the lid open. Nestled in crinkly tissue paper sat a blue, leather-bound journal. A golden clam shell was etched into its cover, along with a swirly font proclaimingSirena’s Story. “What?”

“Now you have somewhere to practice your writing.”

“I-”

“Just take a look before you say anything.”

I lifted it out of the box, the leather smooth against my fingertips. “It has gold edges,” I gasped, running my pinky along its sides.

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