Page 13 of Valentine's Slave

His voice is low, raspy, sexy, and it’s drawing me in. He must have the heat up too high because I’m sweating.

Hesitating, I pull off my sweater, noting Valentino’s eyes follow and rake over my loose cream-coloured top beneath. I intentionally haven’t worn close-fitting clothes for the last few months since I have a bit of a tummy, but Valentino doesn’t seem to notice, or if he suspects it, it doesn’t bother him.

“Put both your hands on the table, palms up,” he says.

I knew he was dying to dominate me.

I glance up at his face, his dark hair falling into his eyes, that spitfire gaze still bearing into me. Sucking in my breath, I follow his order, my eyes falling to the contract in front of him.

“Good girl.”

He grabs something that I hadn’t noticed he’d left on the floor under his chair. It’s a little pair of silver metal handcuffs with soft black material coating the cuffs.

“Ava, do you consent to playing out a dress rehearsal of our slave–master dynamic? We will go at your pace, and you may stop at any time.”

No need to add political clauses. I know what I’m getting myself into.

“Sure.” I almost roll my eyes at him.

The handcuffs click into place, and despite my suspicions, a thrill rises deep in my gut. I’ve never trusted someone enough to give them control. And while I definitely don’t trust Valentino, something feels different about this.

He places the two yellow oven mitts on the ground. “Get on your knees on the floor beside your chair,” he instructs, standing up to his full height.

Now the thrill churns to something like dread. I already told him I don’t like giving head, and that’s his first move? Double dick move.

My feelings must be clear on my face because he looks at me again.

“This is an exercise in trust.” His voice rasps low and deep. “Sadistic as I am, I only derive pleasure from your predicament if you are also experiencing pleasure, cloaked as it may be in other sensations.”

Fuck him, but fine. If he’s already starting at this level, the coming days will be that much more extreme. If I don’t like it, I can still back out now, but I have to see what I’m getting into before I sign anything. So, taking a breath, going with the hazy flow of my intoxicated mind—thank God for wine, cause I’m going to need to disconnect alotthis week—I push back my chair with my foot, move beside the table, and lower onto my knees, resting on the soft material.

Valentino’s standing up in front of me, but I don’t meet his gaze. I keep my eyes focused firmly ahead of me, my face like stone.

“You’re suspicious.” He walks around behind me, kneels, and puts his hands lightly on my shoulders. “You’re tense,” he says, his lips at my ear. Another shiver runs through me against my will, but I don’t move a muscle.

He gently pushes the loose cream material and bra straps off my shoulders so he can massage my bare skin. Closing my eyes, I shut my lips into a tight line, but my angst melts away into relaxation. Part of me is obviously on edge to be here, in this position, with a stranger. The other part of me is more excited than it’s ever been before.

Valentino kneads my skin until I’m breathing slow and deep. The darkness in my mind continues to spin around me like the room did when I got up. Maybe I drank a little more than Iwas planning to, but that’s a good thing. It helps give me some distance from the reality that I’m so desperate that I’m fucking a stranger for money.

His hands pause for a second, and then he slips a blindfold over my eyes. I suck in my breath as darkness surrounds me, even when I open my eyes, and I pause my steady breath.

“Shhhh,” he murmurs, massaging deep and slow until I’m calm again, my shoulders back, hands down at my waist, still cuffed.

His hands move south along my back, travelling down my spine, rubbing little circles that seem to ease the tension from the crevices of my soul. I feel like this is more than just a massage, as if part of him is reaching out for a deeper connection, as if maybe he actually cares, which is weird because I know he doesn’t.

When he begins to slide my top up my midriff, I get self-conscious. But I catch the tiniest groan from his lips, and I can tell he’s turned on by me. He undoes my bra strap, and my heart speeds up. I feel both open and exposed, and it’s a surprisingly pleasant sensation. Meanwhile, I assume he’s still fully clothed in that impressionable suit. Another power play, stripping me naked while he stays in his clothes. He’s definitely a conceited prick.

Despite all my annoyance, my breathing still ramps up, pouring out as fast as Niagara Falls, and I know Valentino notices. I can tell that he’s also on his knees, and I feel the crotch of his pants pressing against my lower back. He’s hard as a rock and probably wild to have at it. Well, fuck him. If I can torture him a bit, at least I’ll have some payback.

His hands come around to my front, pulling my shirt up over my bra, which has fallen open now, hanging loosely from my shoulders. Little spikes of heat are going through me, and a thrill zips from the inside out. I can’t see him, but he can see all ofme as he undresses me little by little on my knees on his kitchen floor.

I’m not an easily embarrassed person, but I feel vulnerable in this position, and while that gets me off, I also hate it. I won’t surrender to him or let him know my body is betraying me and turning me on. I won’t give him the gratification of so easily coaxing pleasure from between my thighs.

He slides both hands up my ribs until he gets to my breasts. His fingers roam the underside, moving from left to right along my ribs, just barely teasing the sensitive flesh above. I hold my breath, trying to ignore the tingling between my legs.

But he doesn’t rush. He trails his fingers back and forth across my skin, skating higher and higher each time, nearing the centre of my breasts, the sensitive skin prickling in goosebumps under his touch. He leans forward, bending his face to my shoulder. His wild hair tickles the back of my neck, and I feel his breath on my cheek.

“You’re going to be all mine,” he murmurs, and then he cups both my breasts in his hands, pressing my nipples in small circles.

---