the sensory overload she found herself tossed into. She stared into the face of desire, her pussy filled to capacity with it. She took in a deep breath and inhaled the scent of sex from his skin—and still she craved more.
“Are you okay?” he asked. She registered the question, but how the hell did he expect her to answer when he did that circle thing with his hips, setting her clit on a one-way ticket to orgasm? She couldn’t reply, so instead she squeezed the muscles in her sex, clamping down on his cock. When he grunted above her, Rowyn figured he received his answer.
“Fuck,” he muttered and proceeded to do just that—fuck her. He rode her hard, offering no mercy. Not that she would have requested any. With every long, plunging stroke of his cock he shoved her closer to the precipice of release. She cried out, sobbing her pleasure that penetrated not only her flesh, but her heart, her soul.
The mattress bounced beneath them; the headboard banged out the wild rhythm he set with his driving hips. And she held on to him through it all, trusting where he would take her. And as the orgasm swelled, it seemed almost frightening in its intensity, in its power. Yet she threw herself headfirst into the blaze, knowing—believing—he would be there to catch her.
Chapter Six
“The prince chased her, but outside the palace, the guards had seen only a simple country wench leave. The prince pocketed the slipper and vowed to find and marry the girl to whom it belonged.”— Cinderella
“Not this shit again.”—Darius Fiore
The aroma of freshly brewing coffee tickled his nose, and Darius inhaled.
Damn. Smelling it was like foreplay to the main event—that first delicious cup.
He reached over his head, opened the cupboard door, and removed two of the mugs the hotel provided. As he waited for the pot to finish, he glanced toward the closed bedroom door. He regretted not leaving it open so he could look in on the sleeping figure of the woman who’d shared his bed and her body last night. Unlike the previous time they’d been together, he’d woken up next to her this morning. A grin curved his lips. Who would’ve guessed Rowyn Jeong was a cuddler?
The last of the coffee trickled into the pot, and after filling both ceramic cups with the dark brew, he added cream and sugar to one and left the other black. On bare feet, he turned and exited the small kitchenette, mugs in hand. He’d barely made it across the living area when a knock sounded on the hotel room door. Frowning, he shot a glance at the digital clock on the kitchenette counter. 7:56 a.m. Who could that be?
Darius set the steaming cups on the small table beside the couch and headed toward the door. With a twist of his wrist he had the lock unbolted and the door opened. Surprise sang through him.
Cindy Harrison.
Rowyn’s younger sister smiled up at him, lovely and fresh in a yellow summer dress that complemented her caramel skin. Her dark hair curled around her shoulders and framed a face that most likely mesmerized every man she met.
Except him.
She didn’t have hair that fell down her back in a waterfall of dark silk. Her eyes, while a very pretty hazel, didn’t possess the striking tilt of the outer corners. Nor were they the beautiful, mysterious brown that could gleam with passion or blaze with anger. Cindy’s petite slenderness couldn’t compare to the statuesque, curvy body that seemed built for fucking…for loving.
No. Cindy, with her traditional loveliness, didn’t hold a torch—fuck, a candle—to her older sister.
“Can I come in?” she asked, flashing the dimples in her cheeks.
“Of course.” Darius shifted back and allowed enough room for her to enter the hotel suite. Her gaze dropped and flicked over his bare chest and the black pants he’d dragged on but had left unbuttoned. Hell, he’d intended to wear them only long enough to make coffee. Spending the morning making love to Rowyn didn’t require
“Are you okay?” he asked. She registered the question, but how the hell did he expect her to answer when he did that circle thing with his hips, setting her clit on a one-way ticket to orgasm? She couldn’t reply, so instead she squeezed the muscles in her sex, clamping down on his cock. When he grunted above her, Rowyn figured he received his answer.
“Fuck,” he muttered and proceeded to do just that—fuck her. He rode her hard, offering no mercy. Not that she would have requested any. With every long, plunging stroke of his cock he shoved her closer to the precipice of release. She cried out, sobbing her pleasure that penetrated not only her flesh, but her heart, her soul.
The mattress bounced beneath them; the headboard banged out the wild rhythm he set with his driving hips. And she held on to him through it all, trusting where he would take her. And as the orgasm swelled, it seemed almost frightening in its intensity, in its power. Yet she threw herself headfirst into the blaze, knowing—believing—he would be there to catch her.
Chapter Six
“The prince chased her, but outside the palace, the guards had seen only a simple country wench leave. The prince pocketed the slipper and vowed to find and marry the girl to whom it belonged.”— Cinderella
“Not this shit again.”—Darius Fiore
The aroma of freshly brewing coffee tickled his nose, and Darius inhaled.
Damn. Smelling it was like foreplay to the main event—that first delicious cup.
He reached over his head, opened the cupboard door, and removed two of the mugs the hotel provided. As he waited for the pot to finish, he glanced toward the closed bedroom door. He regretted not leaving it open so he could look in on the sleeping figure of the woman who’d shared his bed and her body last night. Unlike the previous time they’d been together, he’d woken up next to her this morning. A grin curved his lips. Who would’ve guessed Rowyn Jeong was a cuddler?
The last of the coffee trickled into the pot, and after filling both ceramic cups with the dark brew, he added cream and sugar to one and left the other black. On bare feet, he turned and exited the small kitchenette, mugs in hand. He’d barely made it across the living area when a knock sounded on the hotel room door. Frowning, he shot a glance at the digital clock on the kitchenette counter. 7:56 a.m. Who could that be?
Darius set the steaming cups on the small table beside the couch and headed toward the door. With a twist of his wrist he had the lock unbolted and the door opened. Surprise sang through him.
Cindy Harrison.
Rowyn’s younger sister smiled up at him, lovely and fresh in a yellow summer dress that complemented her caramel skin. Her dark hair curled around her shoulders and framed a face that most likely mesmerized every man she met.
Except him.
She didn’t have hair that fell down her back in a waterfall of dark silk. Her eyes, while a very pretty hazel, didn’t possess the striking tilt of the outer corners. Nor were they the beautiful, mysterious brown that could gleam with passion or blaze with anger. Cindy’s petite slenderness couldn’t compare to the statuesque, curvy body that seemed built for fucking…for loving.
No. Cindy, with her traditional loveliness, didn’t hold a torch—fuck, a candle—to her older sister.
“Can I come in?” she asked, flashing the dimples in her cheeks.
“Of course.” Darius shifted back and allowed enough room for her to enter the hotel suite. Her gaze dropped and flicked over his bare chest and the black pants he’d dragged on but had left unbuttoned. Hell, he’d intended to wear them only long enough to make coffee. Spending the morning making love to Rowyn didn’t require
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