Page 91 of Cinderella Is Faking It

“What?”

He pulled his phone from his pocket to show me the app that controlled his smart home features and the green markers next to the bathtub functions. “Best hangover cure. Breakfast will still be here by the time you get out.”

Thoughts still blurring from the feel of his hands wrapped around my throat, I trotted to the bathroom and got in the bath on autopilot. I let the warm water and bubbles engulf me, and played with the settings for the lights and the massage jets. The best one was the jet that pushed deep into the tense muscles of my lower back. That tension had to come from weeks of sitting on the floor, hunched over books. Thinking about those books led to thinking about Beck’s hands pressing into my flesh, and if I just shifted a little... If I got on my knees and held myself up by the edge of the tub… I let out a loud gasp as I found the angle that put the pressure right on my center. My body tensed as I allowed myself to mentally relive that moment over and over again, replaying the feel of his fingers tightening around my neck.

Kneeling like this, my chest hovered above water and as the cool air curled around my wet breasts, their peaks hardened. I reached down between my legs, opening myself for the airstream to hit my pressure points. My stomach tensed and my toes curled and even though I pressed my lips together, a sound of pleasure still vibrated through my throat.

My breathing grew ragged as I pushed myself closer to the stream, bubbles shooting at just- I just- I wan-

Wait, could you get a UTI from having air and soap water blasted at you?

My hand trembled. My fingers lost their grip. The airstream lost the right angle. Oh, for fuck’s sake, could a girl not-

“-growth until 2025.” The bathroom door swung open to reveal Beck, on his phone. I froze under his gaze as it traveled down my body, along where my hand disappeared under the bubbles, to the stream of water clearly gushing through the gap between my legs. Understanding passed his features. “We’re not pushing our OKRs for any reason, Jonas,” he said to the other person on the phone, but the tilt of his chin was clearly meant for me.

No judgement, just interest in my progress.

I shook my head.

Beck crossed the distance to the tub in three long strides. Phone between his ear and his shoulder, he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, the veins outlined under his tan skin. Without taking his eyes off me, Beck lowered himself next to the tub until he was on my eye level. “Need I remind you that last year you were the one who recommended we switch to a new system? If said system is malfunctioning, that’s your head on the line.” Despite his harsh words to whoever was on the phone, when he slipped his hand into the water, his touch was gentle as his fingers traced up the inside of my thigh until they found my own hand still resting aimlessly between my legs. His eyes softened for a moment when he smiled at me and slipped his hand under mine.

My muscles twitched as he parted me again, and with his palm on my pelvic bone, pushed my hips back in line with the jet’s stream. The pressure picked up exactly where it had left off. I grasped Beck’s wrist underwater and suppressed the hitched sound trying to escape.

He’d know, right? He’d know if I was putting my health at risk in his tub, and he’d not encourage that, right? But why on earth was he on a call? He couldn’t expect me to get anywhere, knowing that he was doingbusinesswhile his hand was between my legs.

“We wouldn’t be on this call if I wasn’t ready to compromise,” he said and pushed his palm down to maneuver my hips against the nozzle, where the jets sprouted with full intensity. I moaned at the sudden burst against my clit, then froze under Beck’s raised brows. Shit.

We should stop. This wasn’t going to end well for him. I’d be too loud and then I wouldn’t even come,all build-up no reward. But his call would be ruined orgasm or not. I moved to get off the nozzle, but instead of letting me go, Beck pushed his thumb hard against my clit. I toppled forward and sank my teeth into his shoulder, my sounds stifled by muscle and expensive cotton. Cotton that brushed against my hardened nipples, sending a different wave of pleasure to my core.

“Trust me,” he still sounded so calm on the phone while he wreaked havoc on me with his thumb, “I’d rather lose out on 5% this year than spend the next twenty dealing with more policy-pushers who think-” I didn’t hear the rest of his words as the blinding rush of pleasure crashed over me, the taste of his shirt on my tongue and the hard water relentless against my clit. I bucked against him and clawed at the arm and shoulder that held me in place until the quivers stopped rocking through my body. I slumped forward, out of breath. My aimless fingers slapped at the control panel on the wall to switch off the bubbles. Instead, Beck reached around me and pressed the button that turned onallthe jets.

I winced at the sudden pressure needling into me on all sides when every inch of my skin was on high alert to every touch.

“Who makes you come, Blondie?” Beck asked, and a shiver rolled down my spine at the tone of his voice. Guess the phone call was over.

I tried to lean back, but he still had one hand between my legs, and the other had come around the back of my neck in a hard grip. I was locked in place, riding his arm, my face pressed into his shirt. “Just you,” I whispered, voice muffled by his shoulder.

“Didn’t I tell younotto touch yourself when you’re here?”

“You did.”

“And? Did you touch yourself?”

“Yes.”

“Do you need a reminder of who gets to touch you?”

His words resparked the fire that had just died down, but with it came a twinge of pain. The burning token of his lastreminderstill under my skin. “Wait,” I breathed and tapped the hold he had on my neck. Beck loosened his grip, allowing me to lean back. I blinked as the rest of the bathroom came back into view, his phone discarded on the floor, a small puddle of soapy water beside it, Beck’s charcoal eyes on me, waiting for me. Communication. “I don’t… You said…” The words died on my tongue. I tried to think a straight line through the haze in my head, coming up with nothing but jumbled phrases.

“I said,” Beck picked up one of my hands, whispering a soft kiss to the inside of my wrist, “if you touched yourself at my place again, I would tie you to my headboard.”

“Yes.”

“I said,” he placed my hand down on the edge of the tub and picked up the other one, mirroring the soft kiss, “that I would spank your ass until you begged me to fuck you.”

I nodded and watched him arrange my second hand a precise shoulder-length from the other. “I can’t do that again,” I said. “Not yet.”

“Don’t worry.” He reached around me and lifted me to my knees in one quick move, placing me sideways in the tub to face him. “There’s so many ways I can show you that you’re mine to touch.” His mouth came down on mine in a hungry kiss while he pulled my thighs apart, opening me for the symphony of jets. I whimpered into the kiss when one of them hit my throbbing bundle of nerves, but then Beck’s hand was on my throat again, squeezing hard enough for the sound to die. That one move sent an electric shock through my system, every other sensation suddenly multiplied tenfold as my brain tried to catch up with the panic gripping my body. When he leaned out of the kiss and his hand dropped, I was gasping for air, lungs aching, and if I just reached down, I was sure it would take no more than twenty seconds for me to come again.

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