Cin Wikkid: April Fools For Love

by Mary Hughes

  The door flew open under her fist, revealing his infectious grin. She grinned back, knowing she must look like an idiot, but not caring.

  “I’ve got everything ready.” He extended a hand for her coat as he waved her inside. “Snacks, caffeine, and my tripod’s set up so we can record you—all I have to do is clamp in my smartphone. By the time we’re done, you’re going to knock them dead.”

  She handed him her coat. “I’d settle for knocking them impressed.”

  As he hung her jacket next to his on a nail doubling as a hook, she stepped inside and looked around the apartment. The studio was what she might be able to afford if her stepmother hadn’t claimed four-fifths of Cin’s paycheck in room and board.

  Bowls of chips sat on a low, scarred coffee table along with a cafetière wafting rich mocha scent into the air.

  “Rafe, thank you for doing this. The refreshments, but mostly taking the time to coach me. I can’t pay you now, but after I get a real job—”

  “Hey.” He put a hand on her shoulder, recalling her attention, and searched her gaze. “I’m not doing this for the money. I’m doing it for you.”

  Her heart must’ve catapulted into her eyes because his darkened, pupils dilating. His hands dropped to her waist, holding her steady.

  Slowly, so she could have stopped him if she’d wanted to, he bent and pressed his mouth to hers. A brief caress, and another, before he sighed with pleasure and kissed her in earnest.

  His lips were so beguiling. She’d waited for this so long. Alone, together…ah, homework could wait.

  Cin drank in every sensation, the gentle pressure of his lips, the scent of his skin, the warmth of his breath. The soft sweep of his tongue, tasting of mint.

  His hand slid into her hair, cradling her head. It made her feel warm and secure, but when he teased open her lips and his tongue began to explore, the deepening kiss sent shock waves from her head to her toes. Safe yet excited. Like a storm-swept sea, the contradictory feelings rose, crashed, and heightened inside her. She shuddered with them.

  Maybe feeling her tremble, he murmured, “Sorry,” against her lips. “We should study.” He pulled away.

  “Sure. But first…” Sorry, Mom. With a surge of hot reckless feeling liberating her, she wrapped her arms around his neck, lifted herself onto her toes, and planted one on him.

  He gave a bark of surprise, but then his arms wrapped around her in return, pulling her flush to him, so tight they almost fused. She reveled in the feel of him. His torso was hot and strong under his cotton shirt, hard and rippling in a way she wasn’t. She strained against him, wriggling to feel every inch of masculinity.

  Including the growing bulge in his jeans.

  He nestled his face in the crook of her neck, pressing kisses to her heated skin. “You’re so soft. So sweet-smelling.”

  “You aren’t. I like that.” Her voice came out in a low purr, and she rubbed against him until her nipples were taut and about to flare like matches.

  “Cin…” He groaned. “Please, I’ve been wanting to touch you since we first met.” Hands going to the bottom of her T-shirt, he hesitated. “May I?” Not holding back in reluctance, but asking permission.

  Pleasure flooded her. He wants me. “Please,” she groaned in return, quivering in anticipation of the feel of his hands on her skin.

  He peeled up her tee, slowly exposing her ribs to the cool apartment air.

  She shivered again.

  “You’re cold. I’ll make it better.” Palms pressing to her skin, he ran his hands up her back, warming her, chasing the goose bumps away.

  “Mmm. Definitely better.”

  “Let me make it better yet.” His mouth claimed hers again, tongue sliding seductively against the seam of her lips.

  She opened to his dark taste, richer than espresso and far more exciting.

  With a deep groan of thanks, he thrust his tongue into her mouth. His sliding hands met her T-shirt, crumpled to a ring just under her bra. She moaned and opened her mouth wider, at the same time lifting her breastbone in offering. In answer, his palms slid around front, and his long fingers burrowed gently underneath the shirt.

  Her heart pumped harder, knowing what came next.

  Warm hands glided over her breasts, his heat penetrating her thin, cheap sports bra as if it was lace. Her nipples tightened and her breasts ached for more.

  Recklessly, she wanted the bra gone—but she’d never been topless with a man before. Previous sexual encounters had been hurried and incomplete.

  Now she hesitated. Men liked big tits. Privately she thought hers were nice enough.

  But what if Rafe judged her as lacking? A chill invaded her stomach.

  Then he’s not the man I think he is.

  Right. Rafe helped her. Eased her aches. Made her feel safe.

  He was worth the risk.

  Breaking the kiss, she pulled out of his embrace. His eyes opened slowly, his expression a cute mix of rapture and dawning confusion.

  Not confused for long, I hope. She crossed her arms, grabbed her T-shirt hem and bra band, and pulled. Her clothes came off over her head. Tossing them, she stood half-naked before him.

  His eyes widened, but his pupils constricted as he gasped in sharp surprise.

  That gasp hit her like an arctic blast. Doesn’t he like what he sees? Or have I done something wrong?

  She’d heard some guys needed to control the pace, but hadn’t thought Rafe was one of them. “Sorry. Am I rushing you…?” She dribbled off as his gaze dropped precipitously to her breasts.

  Gluing there and going dark with desire.

  Warmth blasted through the frigid air in her lungs. He definitely wants me.

  His nostrils flared as if he was climbing the Himalayas. His Adam’s apple bobbed hard, as if he was swallowing the world. “You didn’t rush me.” His voice was a rasp. “You couldn’t. Cin, you are the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen. I want…” His gaze flew up to hers. “No, I need to taste you. May I?”

  Swallowing her own planet, she could only nod.

  His lids closed in an expression of blissed thanks. Cupping her breasts, one in each hand, he kissed them, hot, butterfly kisses on the tops that gradually slowed, deepened, and descended toward her nipples.

  He drew one tight nub into his mouth.

  Tiny explosions rocked her. She gasped as her sex clenched with need.

  He suckled.

  Explosions blasted, one after another, building into hot, singing desire. She let out a long keen as he tugged at her breast, a fire of need raging through her thighs and pelvis..

  Still suckling, he backed her toward the couch, steering her around the low table of snacks until her calves came in to contact with fabric.

  The touch of cushion brought ripe images springing into her head, her and him, horizontally.

  She wasn’t sure if she tripped him or simply fell, but somehow his mouth drew off her breast like clamped fingers along a zipbag seal, her wet nipple shrieking in pained delight, and she was plunging for the couch.

  At the last minute, he spun them, falling onto his back, pulling her on top of him.

  Her palms splayed on hard chest muscles sheathed only in thin cotton. Her hips and thighs matched his, her feet crooked up in the air.

  Her arms collapsed. Her nose landed burrowed under the open collar of his Oxford shirt, the scent of coffee and warm male skin filling her nostrils. His strong throat was under her mouth.

  All she’d have to do was open her mouth to taste him.

  Well, yeah. She parted her lips, touching skin, fresh and clean and tangy.

  He groaned, arching into her mouth. His hands slid down her back to shape her rump.

  She rubbed her naked breasts against the weave of his shirt, tingling sensation sparking through her taut nipples, her bottom giving delighted quivers under his kneading hands. She was so aroused, her tongue peeked out almost automatically to touch his skin. Another gut-deep groan came from his chest. She licked hi
m, quick touches with the tip that were more like soft kisses.

  “Cin. You’re driving me wild.”

  He buried one hand in her hair and peppered her temple and ear with kisses. His other hand held her hips as he began to undulate beneath her, fingers digging into her buttocks as he scrubbed. She slicked her tongue up his throat to his jawline, the rasp of stubble sending sparks of pleasure through her mouth. He stopped kneading with a low groan, his fingers tightening, biting into her jeans.

  She nipped his neck in answer.

  He roared and flipped them. Air left her lungs in a woof of surprise as she landed on her back on the cushions, her knees up and bent.

  His hips docked between her parted thighs. Gazing down on her, his cobalt eyes blistering hot, he rubbed deliberately against her.

  The tented fly of his jeans was like a fulcrum to her sex. Her clitoris rose as the ridge teased her, sliding in unbelievably sweet provocation.

  She shuddered with need. “Rafe.”

  “Please, let me touch you. Please.”

  His hand hovered over the snap of her jeans.

  Chapter Four

  “Cin, please.” Rafe’s gaze was raw with desire. “I have to touch you or burst.” His arm trembled, hand just above her fly. “May I?”

  Other men might have told her how beautiful she was, given her sweet beguilements and flattery.

  Rafe’s naked need was sweeter than any words.

  “You don’t have to ask anymore.” She cupped his face in her hands. “Yes.”

  “Thank you.” He breathed it like a prayer.

  His fingers made short work of her snap and zipper, then slid inside.

  The pads glided hot down the skin of her belly, until he teased the elastic edge of her panties. She held her breath.

  Gently, he burrowed under the cloth. Her breath returned in a rush as she began panting in anticipation.

  His fingers petted down, down, brushing fire, until he touched the top of her mound…where he teased a fingertip into the top of her slit. She wiggled under him, needing his touch where she ached most. He only split his fingers, caressing the plump lips alongside her slit, gently gliding along them over and over until she was desperate enough to want to scream.

  His dark chuckle said he knew it. Reading her mind again. Driven to extremes, she’d have smacked him one, but just then his forefinger slid alongside the raised hood of her clit.

  She sucked in a breath. His finger burned, pad nestled intimately against her engorged clitoris. More. Please.

  Again as if answering her thoughts, he began to stroke her, strong, sure sweeps of his fingers. Each thrust of fingers wound her tighter and tighter, until she needed to groan or burst. She groaned.

  As if that dark moan emerging from her throat was a cue, he added wiggling. Desire washed like molten gold through her.

  “There it is,” he murmured. “The winch has locked the rollercoaster car into place.” He stroked. “Each crank winds it higher up the hill.” His fingers pressed and thrust. “The fall is coming. You can see it, winching higher and higher, nearer the peak. It’s not a matter of if but when.” Each stroke of his fingers wound her higher, tighter, until her whole body shook with trembling, swollen desire.

  “You’re going to come for me, Cin.” He licked up her delicate breast. “Come hard.” He fastened onto the tip and suckled. “Come now.”

  He thrust a finger inside her.

  She didn’t shatter, she blew. Arching hard against the couch, she pushed her hips into his hand, driving his finger deeper inside her wet heat. Climax burned through her like a grain fire, bursting behind her eyelids like a thousand sparklers arcing their joy into the night sky. Her pores, her veins, her very heart opened, cleansed, made new.

  As she came to herself, heart thudding in her ears, she realized he lay beside her now, arms around her, rocking her gently.

  The bulge in his pants pressed insistently against her hip.

  Her eyelids were so heavy, but she managed to raise them, viewing him through the veil of her lashes. “What about you?”

  He smiled, not his usual, toothy grin, but slowly, sensually…then he shook his head.

  “Don’t you want me?” Her voice came out smaller, more vulnerable than she meant.

  “Oh, I want you. You’ll never know how much. But to get your presentation solid, we need every second. With only a couple hours before you have to leave—no arguments, you need to get your sleep—for now, we’re going to put aside our attraction to work.”

  Our attraction. For a moment, that was all she heard. Pleasure and hope flared inside. Her attraction to him was mutual.

  Well, that was obvious from the bulge in his pants. She brushed fingers over it—gently, but he shivered at even her light touch. It must be hurting him something awful.

  She was awed; she was humbled. He was putting off his own relief for her, putting aside his needs to concentrate on hers. Doing this for her. Not saying he was putting her first, but doing it.

  So different from what she’d grown up with, all those “laters” which meant never. Not using words, which were easy—and easily forgotten—but actually getting down and doing the work, paying the sweat equity, to make it happen.

  But that had been Rafe all along, hadn’t it? He was there for her. Her mother would approve. Cin did, too.

  For a moment, she let herself be sad for the little girl she’d been. She wished she’d known Rafe then. Maybe her childhood wouldn’t have been so lonely.

  With a shake of her head, she got up and started dressing. Like as not, he’d have been shoved aside when her father died, just as her friend Milly Maus had.

  No, it was better by far that she’d met Rafe now, when she had a choice in the matter.

  A chill passed over her. She barely had time to remember Milly’s birthday. How would she find time to nurture her new relationship with Rafe?

  She shook it away. He knew her freedom was limited. She had to trust he wouldn’t give up on her in the few short months before she got a place of her own.

  She glanced at him, moving lithely as he rose to set up the phone to record. Her body shivered in agreement. Far better she’d met him now, when she could completely appreciate the man, mind, heart, and body.

  * * *

  Four nights later, Cinderella snuck home from Rafe’s apartment—and a second tutoring session with benefits—to see every light in the house was on.

  She froze. From the look of it, all three Steps were up. She’d be caught for sure. Ez or Yl would ask where she’d been, or worse, her stepmother.

  She’d have to lie.

  Her stomach shrank in on itself. She hated lying.

  But the only alternative would reveal Rafe.

  Swallowing her anxiety, she squared her shoulders and pushed open the door.

  “There you are!” Ez swooped in, grabbed Cin’s coat, and yanked her inside so hard Cin almost tripped over her own feet. “Come help me with my hair.”

  “No!” shrieked Yl. “Help me with my makeup. I can’t get this look right.” She shoved a slick magazine in Cin’s face, opened to a supermodel with dramatic, kohl-outlined, Pharaohic eyes and golden powder that sharpened already stark cheekbones. Yl, with her plump, pink cheeks, would never achieve the look.

  But to Cin’s shock and relief, neither Step seemed to notice or care she was panty-dragging late.

  “Slow down. I only have so many hands.” And her fingers weren’t quite as clever at certain things as Rafe’s… She shivered silently in delighted memory before setting everything aside to focus on her stepsisters. “Ez, you need help with your hair? Is this for the Prince Industries ball?” When Ez nodded so vigorously her hairpiece worked loose and bobbed like an excited horse’s tail, Cin bit back a smile. Although really, what else could it be for? That was all Ez and Yl talked about.

  “We’re doing a dry run tonight,” Yl said. “To see how long it will take us to get ready.”

  “We?” She blinked at Yl. “
But you’re still in high school.”

  “I’m nineteen.” Yl drew herself straight. “Legally, I could already be married and celebrating my one year anniversary.”

  “My mistake.” Cin raised conciliatory hands. “Let’s go up to Ez’s room and see what we can do.”

  It was late, and Cin was tired, but the Steps’ enthusiasm was infectious. Soon, she was discussing the merits of flounces and seed pearls and gold fairy dust face powder with as much animation as Ez and Yl. A strange yearning rose in her to go too, and the agreeable way her stepsisters were treating her as she brushed powder on Yl’s cheeks relaxed Cin’s guard enough for her to venture, “Maybe I’ll see if I can find a dress on sale and attend the ball with you.”

  Both Steps froze. The temperature in the room plummeted ten degrees.

  “You?” Yl’s jaw dropped so far it was almost comical. “Go to the event of the year?”

  “Don’t be absurd.” Ez’s thin nose jutted toward the ceiling. “You can’t go to the Prince Industries gala.”

  Maybe being with Rafe had made Cin want to shine just a bit more. She forgot her raggedy clothes and hacked hair and protested, “Why can’t I go? The invitation is to E-for-Everyone. It’s even in the newspaper.”

  “Oh, Cinderella,” Yl tittered. “That’s just for show. I’m surprised you didn’t pick up on that.”

  “The very idea is ridiculous,” Ez agreed. “Rich socialite Gideon Prince? He’d never stand for a common sandwich girl to show up at his ball.”

  Common sandwich girl?

  Cin’s fingers curled around the wooden handle of the makeup brush. There was that term again, used with the same derision, meant to belittle her. But she worked hard at the sub shop. It was a source of pride, not shame. She snapped, “Then Prince Industries shouldn’t have put an open invitation in the paper.”

  Ez and Yl just snickered.

  Cin finally got to bed at three in the morning. On days she worked the early shift, she normally would have risen at four thirty, but she couldn’t quite stomach setting her alarm for the usual time. Deciding to skip her shower, she set her alarm for five.