Page 8 of One Night with Cinderella

It had been so long since she’d given in to pure carnal pleasure, but she couldn’t remember ever feeling the thrill his touch brought her. Her entire body felt electrified. He was seeking approval to give her even more pleasure. When in her entire life had more ever been an option? After a lifetime of so many disappointments. So many dreams she never dared to give hope to. How could she deny herself this?

“Yes,” she acquiesced, giving both him and herself permission.

Gabe swung her up into his arms and took long strides to reach the flower-covered pergola. There, beneath its cover, he pressed her down onto one of the round, double chaise longues, and the thick cushion welcomed her. He removed his jacket and flung away his bow tie. The shirt clung to the hard definitions of his body.

He got sexier?

Monica leaned against the pillows as the fleshy bud between her legs swelled to life. She watched him remove a condom packet from his wallet before undressing as she slowly untied the belt of her robe and opened it to fall at her sides. Her trembling hand paused at the top button of her nightgown as she took in the first sight of Gabe Cress—the Gabe Cress—standing before her gloriously naked.

Oh. My.

He was sculpted. Plain and simple. But then not simple at all, because the all of him was everything. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, eight-pack abs and strong thighs. The hair on his chest lay flat before narrowing to an arrow down the jagged middle line of his abs and connecting with the curly dark bush that surrounded the base of his smooth, thick and long hardness. It curved away from his body in a darker complexion than the rest of his light brown skin. Like milk chocolate. Decadent.

Gabe massaged the length of his inches before covering his hardness with their latex protection. He bent his body to crawl up the chaise. She hitched her matronly floral-print gown up her thighs as she opened her legs to him. She assumed he was going to press his body down upon hers, but instead he reached to undo each tiny pearl button running down the front of her gown. Somehow each one being undone seemed to send a jolt through her as more and more of her naked body was exposed to his. And when he reached the last one and flung the gown open, she arched her back and released a hot gasp as the spring wind floated across her body and hardened her nipples even more.

Gabe stroked and massaged her inner thighs before lying flat and then giving her a heated look as he lowered his head.

He couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

But he did.

The first feel of his clever tongue stroking against her bud was her undoing. Monica cried out and reached to grip the sides of his face as she rotated her hips while he sucked the all-too-sensitive bud into his mouth. As he pleasured her, she wished she had followed her instinct and done the same to him. Just imagining the feel of his hardness against her lips and her tongue as he tasted of her in the most intimate fashion, she felt breathless. She was lost in her passion but finding a piece of herself that she had locked away in her loneliness over the last five years.

It was a wonderful hello to her femininity. Her sexuality. Her being.

An awakening.

“Gabe, Gabe, Gabe,” she gasped into the night air as she clutched at the pillows with her nails and dug in for control as she felt herself spiraling into an explosive climax that made her entire body feel so raw and exposed. So alive. In the best way. Ever.

Just as she was on the brink, Gabe quickly shifted his body atop hers and probed her wet and quivering core with the tip of his hard inches. She tilted her chin up and licked at his mouth as their eyes met. “Just this once,” she said.

“Just once,” he agreed with a nod, his eyes so dark and intense in his handsome face. “Then I better make it damn good.”

“Please,” she begged, wrapping her legs and arms around his body almost desperately as he used his hips to fill her with one swift thrust.

They cried out roughly.

They were united.

Connected.

Monica closed her eyes as she winced at the feel of him so tightly sheathed by her core. Every pulse of his dick seemed to pound against her walls. She knew he was fighting for control. Trying his best not to climax. She was glad her own peak waned off. For now. She wasn’t ready for their wild night atop the roof of the beautiful Victorian town house to end.

“Look at me.”

She did as he bid.

Their eyes stayed locked on one another—lost in each other—as he began to stroke inside her. She felt it. From base to tip. Hardness. Thickness. Heat. Over and over again.

Feeling emboldened and lost in the carnal pleasure, she matched each thrust with a slow wind of her hips that tightened her walls down upon his shaft.

He pursed his lips at the move and then swore.

She knew she pleased him and she smiled, tilting her head to the side, her mouth agape, as she continued to match his stare. He dipped his head to kiss her and she tasted herself. It thrilled her as she sucked his tongue into her mouth with a low purr.

Their eyes were still locked. It was intense. And heady. And powerful.

His strokes deepened and he sped up the pace. She gasped as her eyes widened, and she could do nothing but give in to his passionate onslaught as she broke their stare and buried her face against his neck to muffle her cries of pleasure. He slid his hand beneath her to grip her bottom. She looked over his shoulder at the up-and-down motion of his buttocks as he stroked away. His muscles clenched with each movement. A trickle of sweat coursed down his back and disappeared in the deep groove between his hard buttocks.

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