Heidi Rice - Contracted As His Cinderella Bride

She was begging, bucking against his hold when he finally returned his mouth to hers. He held her captive, both wrists shackled above her head. The huge erection notched between her thighs, her bare breasts crushed against his chest. The hard shaft found that sweet spot through their clothing, rubbing, rocking, the waves of sensation building from her core.

The orgasm built so swiftly, she couldn’t control it, the shattering wave crashing over her with staggering intensity. Her body arched as the bright light fired from her core and shattered into a million glittering shards.

She was struggling to breathe, her body slumped against his, when his voice rasped against her ear.

‘ Dieu , did you just climax, Alison?’

Her eyelids fluttered open, to find him staring at her with a need so fierce it was terrifying and liberating all at once.

Her thundering heart began to slow. He did not look happy. In fact, he looked stunned. Had she done something wrong?

‘Yes...’ she said. ‘I’m... I’m sorry, I couldn’t stop it. Was I supposed to?’

His lips quirked and then, to her astonishment, he dropped his head back and laughed.

She tugged on her arms, tried to wrestle herself free of his hold, humiliation engulfing her.

He was still fully dressed. With her bra hanging from one arm and her nipples raw and swollen where he’d played with them she’d never felt more exposed.

‘I should go,’ she murmured.

But he didn’t release her, as the rough chuckles died. His thumbs pressed into the rampaging pulse at her wrists.

‘No way. We’re not finished yet. Even if you jumped the gun.’

‘I said I was sorry about...’ She tried to protest, but he silenced her, the swift kiss both demanding and possessive.

‘There was no need to apologise,’ he said, his gaze compelling—the humour replaced with something much more potent. ‘Do you have any idea how adorable you are?’

The gruff words were quietly spoken, but so achingly sincere her heart punched her ribs.

Cupping her cheek, he swept his gaze over her, the approval she saw making her heartbeat thunder in her ears.

What was happening? Because this felt too intimate, too emotional. More than sex.

‘Please, I...’ she began.

‘Shh...’ He stroked his hand down to her collarbone, the ripple of sensation making her shiver. ‘I wish to take you to bed, Alison. How do you feel about that?’

‘I... I want you too.’ Very much.

‘Bien.’

He sent her a devilish grin, full of wickedness and intent. Letting her arms drop, he dragged the bra away, leaving her standing before him in only the baggy sweatpants.

‘Très, très belle,’ he murmured again, his voice thick with arousal. ‘My gym pants have never looked so good.’

She crossed her arms over her breasts, brutally aware of how naked she was, compared to him.

But then he scooped her into his arms.

She grasped his neck as he marched her into the spare bedroom. The room was luxuriously furnished with a large tester bed complemented by an array of antique pieces. He closed the door to the study, so the only light in the room came from the bathroom and the bay window that looked out onto the house’s grounds. The low lighting had a little of her anxiety retreating as he laid her on the bed.

Her pulse sped up again though as he unbuttoned his shirt, then stripped it off.

Moonlight flickered over the tanned skin, putting the bunched muscles of his torso into stark relief. He was magnificent. Tall, muscular, lean and powerful. The dark hair that defined flat brown nipples and arrowed down into his trousers through his abs had her lungs seizing. Her throat dried as he released the hook on his suit trousers and kicked off his shoes.

The rigid erection sprang up as he lowered his boxers.

Her gaze met his, her breathing so shallow now it was a miracle she didn’t faint as he climbed onto the bed.

‘Lose the pants, ma belle ,’ he said.

She wriggled out of the sweatpants and flung them away. He climbed on top of her. His skin felt hot and firm as he pressed her into the mattress and a rough palm coasted up her bare thigh. A hoarse cry escaped her throat.

Their skin touched everywhere. His fingertips electrified her nerve endings as they found the sensitive seam of skin at the top of her thigh, then located the slick heat at her core.

‘So wet for me, ma belle .’ She could hear the hunger in his voice. ‘Tell me what you like.’

I don’t know.

She trapped the answer in her throat. And flattened her palms against the ridged muscles, stalling for time. She didn’t know how to answer that question; no man had ever seen her naked before, let alone touched her, stroked her.

His thumb found the bundle of nerves again and she moaned, jerking her hips towards the intimate torture.

‘You like that?’ he asked as his thumb circled, not quite touching her again where she needed.

‘Yes, yes, please do it again.’ She didn’t care any more about the naked need in her voice, the raw desperation. She wanted to feel that glorious release once more.

‘Can I touch you, too?’ she asked.

The deep groan against her neck felt like a benediction. ‘Oui.’

She slid her hand down his chest, feeling the muscles quiver. His whole body shook as she wrapped her fingers around the stiff column of flesh. She had a moment of panic as she gauged his size, his girth and the steely strength beneath the velvet-soft skin. How would anything that large and hard ever fit inside her?

But then his thumb found that devastating spot between her thighs and every thought flew out of her head.

She stroked him as he stroked her. But where his caresses were firm and assured, her movements were jerky and uncertain. Still she took pleasure in his shudder when her thumb found the bead of moisture at the head of his erection. She could feel his passion building as the coil at her core twisted and tightened. Her knees fell open, her hips angling forward, in a wanton display of need she couldn’t control. Her fingers gripped his rigid flesh as one blunt finger entered her, sinking into the tight flesh, his thumb still working her into a frenzy.

‘You are very tight. It has been a while, yes?’ he asked.

She nodded. Because what else could she say? It was a lifetime since she’d felt this good.

He swore softly in French, his hips driving into her hand, the hard flesh getting longer, thicker.

‘Come for me again, ma chérie ,’ he demanded, and just like that the wave slammed into her, flinging her over that final peak.

She let out a hoarse moan as she fell to earth, sinking into the glorious oblivion. But as the afterglow settled over her like a glittering cloud, her fingers flexed on the erection. He was still rigid, still huge.

Leaning over her, he fumbled in the bedside drawer, the rip of foil was loud enough to be heard over her staggered breathing.

Lifting her hand from his erection, he kissed the knuckles. ‘I cannot wait any longer,’ he murmured, the urgency sending new ripples of longing through her exhausted flesh.

He rolled on the condom, then grasped her hips.

She felt the head of his erection probe, before he thrust deep.

Rending pain seared through her and she choked off a sob.

‘Merde!’ He reared back.

She bit into her lip to stop the cry of pain. Intense pleasure had turned to shock and discomfort, but far worse than the soreness where his erection was lodged deep inside her was the look of pure horror that shadowed Dominic’s face.

He knew.

The thought doused the heat, until all that was left was the chill of his disapproval.