She presses her lips together, then stomps across to me. Her tits jiggle and her thighs shake. My shaft lengthens further, if that were possible. She lowers herself to her knees, folds her arms in front of her.
"Good."
I grab a chair, plant it in front of her. Then pick up the bowl of soup. I sit down on the chair, scoop up the soup and hold it out. "Eat."
She frowns.
"You cooked?"
"If you call opening a can of soup that, then yes."
She darts me a quick glance from under her eyelashes. "Do I detect a tinge of judgement?" She huffs.
"You need to eat better."
"I eat plenty, thank you very much."
"It’s not the quantity but the quality that I’m questioning."
"I hate cooking," she mumbles.
"And I like cooking for you."
"Oh." She opens her mouth, and I slide the spoon between her lips. "Eat first. You are going to need your energy."
She swallows, stares at me. "For what?"
"What do you think?"
Her cheeks tinge. She parts her lips and the sight of her wet plump lips? Bloody hell. This was a bad idea. I should have taken her earlier. But that...would not have been right. Not when she still hadn’t recovered from her earlier run-in with those men. I tighten my fingers around the spoon, which jerks. I dip it back in the bowl, continue to feed her.
She takes a few more mouthfuls, then jerks her chin in my direction. "You’re not eating."
"I will…soon."
"The soup’s almost finished."
"That’s not my dinner."
"Eh?" She frowns, opens her mouth to receive the next spoonful. My cock thickens and my balls tighten. I dip the spoon into the bowl, offer the last of the soup to her. She swallows it, then asks, "Then what will you be eating?"
"What do you think?" I place the bowl on the floor, then straighten.
"You don’t mean…" Her face grows redder. "You mean—"
I nod.
"On your back, little Eve."
She sits back on her haunches, then lowers herself onto the floor, her knees bent.
"Part your legs."
She spreads wide and I take in the flush that envelops her chest, the pointed nipples, the curves of her breasts, the delectable plumpness of her belly, below that her tender flesh. Her pussy lips are slightly parted and the shy bud of her clit peers out from under the hood. I slide my foot between her thighs, nudge her slit with my big toe. She shivers, tries to close her legs around the intrusion and I click my tongue. "Remember, you don’t get to get yourself off."
"Why not?" she whines. "It’s not fair."
"Life’s not fair, baby." I rub my big toe up her pussy. "Deal with it."