Page 31 of Falling for Them (Cinderella’s Daddies #1)

“Fuck, Ella,” he says. “You’re a wonder.”

“Yes, well, you guys are pretty great, too.” I sound drunk, loose and easy.

Sebastian pulls out of my pussy, places a kiss on one of my very sore ass cheeks, and strides to the bathroom to get rid of the condom.

“I meant what I said,” Kingston says, helping me to sit up on my knees and tapping the ropes that still bind me. “I’m untying you. But you belong with us. Do you understand, little girl?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

He nods and unfastens my wrists. Sebastian’s back, and waiting to rub my arms and hands with Kingston, although I’m actually fine—nothing is sore or tense. My whole body is languid like I’ve just had an awesome night’s sleep. Or gotten fucked really, really well.

“What’s your work schedule like?” Sebastian asks.

“Nothing until noon tomorrow,” I say sleepily. “And I want to talk to you, Mr. Sebastian Crown, about how you never told me who you really are.”

He kisses my forehead and says, “This is who I really am. Bastian Crown is a different person entirely.”

“I was the only one at the karaoke bar who didn’t know.” I pout at him.

“I think you’re right, although I didn’t realize it at the time.” He frowns. Then, with a sigh, he pushes the frown away and says, “So, nothing for you until noon tomorrow?”

“Nope.” I give a little stretch, appreciating the way their gazes move over me, even though I’m still wearing my dress, which is bunched up around my chest and held there with Sebastian’s belt.

“Stay with us, then,” Kingston says. “Sleep over. We can talk tomorrow.”

I can only nod. They take me out of my dress, finally, and tuck me naked into bed between them. The other day, I’d thought my version of heaven would include a sunny room with a grand piano.

But this is better.

Sebastian

We woke up, had more sex, then finally ate before falling into bed and doing everything over again. Ella is a perfect match for us in terms of sexual appetite—insatiable.

I watch her sleep. Her sweet mouth is pursed and her head is cradled between King’s bicep and chest. My cock is snug against her pert little ass.

I want to wake her up with my fingers in her pussy, showing her even more pleasure.

The temptation is great, but for now, I resist. There’ll be plenty of time for more, if she really is ours.

She agreed, but does she truly know it? Hard to say.

I can tell she thinks she doesn’t belong with us.

Well, it’ll be our jobs going forward to convince her otherwise. She does belong with us. And as long as I have a say, she always will.

A faint buzz sounds from my jeans pocket at the foot of the bed. My phone. Intent on shutting the damn thing up, putting it on silent from here until the end of eternity, I get out of bed and fish it from my pants.

The name on the screen, Trina Jack , gives me a hit of guilt and I swallow thickly. I should answer.

Hurrying out of King’s bedroom, I swipe the screen to answer in the living room. “Trina. What’s up?”

“I’ve been very patient with you, Bastian,” she says.

“Hell yeah, you have.” Because it’s the damned truth—I’ve put that woman through hell.

“I’ve negotiated contracts with record labels.”

“Yep.”

“And I’ve held your hand through pre-show jitters.”

I nod even though she can’t see me. It’s true. Back in the beginning, she and King were all I had, and he wasn’t exactly the hand-holding type. My first show in a packed arena, I vomited beforehand and Trina was waiting with a glass of water and a hug. “Yeah, you did.”

“And, I’ve helped arrange interviews, saved you from a shitty manager or three, and listened to every single early draft of your songs.”

I wait. She’s obviously not finished.

“I’m getting impatient, Bastian. You’re walking around like a gold mine, and I think I deserve to cash in, you know? Especially because of the one other, huge thing I’ve done for you.”

Surely she’s not going to bring it up. It’s not something we discuss. We put it behind us. I hold my breath, waiting for her to say anything else, anything other than that .

But she says it: “I helped you cover up your secret, and I’ve kept it a secret.”

All the air leaves the room and I fall to one of the sofas, my legs weak. A fuzzy, mixed-up night. Too much booze. An attractive woman or ten, twenty, all of them throwing themselves at me. But of course I zeroed in on one woman.

And I don’t remember. I don’t fucking remember.

Trina remembers, though.

I gulp for oxygen and try to ground myself in the moment. In the next room, my best friend and my little princess are sleeping, wrapped up together, a picture of perfect sexual domesticity.

But out here in this dark living room, I’m facing down a demon.

“Trina,” I say slowly. “Are you threatening me?”