Page 29 of Valentine's Slave

“You’re a hungry little whore, aren’t you?” I murmur in her ear.

Her eyes are open now, but she still doesn’t look at me. I kiss all the way down her neck, and she moans, shivering beneath me. I hold her, caressing her in my arms as she rides out the last waves of the post-orgasm until she’s calm and still again.

She watches me with those large blue eyes as I move back between her legs, my hard cock itching to stretch her pussy and hear all the rest of her sounds.

She’s studying me and finally looks into my eyes. I wonder what she sees.

Despite all the ways I’ve ravaged her, there’s trust in her eyes, something fierce and deep.

I thrust my cock into her, her moans like music to my ears. I lean forward to squeeze her breasts, drinking in the sight of her.

Ava whimpers as I slow down. I thrust in circles and then reach under her to tease her ass some more, sinking the tip of my finger inside, adding fire to her gasps as I thrust deep and hard. Ramming my body into hers, I feel her pulse and squeeze around me, shuddering as I sink into her hard and deep.

I feel her body with every essence of my being, reading her sounds, feeling every time her abdomen contracts under me, her body rippling with pleasure, her breath spilling out in ragged pants, her eyes closed.

“Look at me,” I hiss, and she opens her eyes, meeting my gaze with that blue ocean of hers, pulsing every time I thrust into her. My hands are pressed into the bed on either side of her head,and I stare her down as if daring her to fight back, to meet my monster, to survive his rage and plundering.

She doesn’t stop looking at me the whole time, even as she’s gasping and coming, her inner walls squeezing me tightly, and finally, when I hit my climax, I growl, plunging into her again and again, feeling the ecstasy tear through me and out.

We’re both breathing hard for the next few seconds, but she doesn’t drop my gaze. This girl has got guts, and something in her eyes calls out to me in more than just a sexual way. Though she’s my first slave, she’s also the first girl I feel is more than just a sex toy. Maybe it’s the way she fights me, the way she obeys while trying to fuck me over at the same time. She’s not just a drug to torture and pleasure myself with and forget everything else. She’s a mystery, a little minx that leaves me wanting more.

I pull the sheet and comforter up to her neck and keep her warm and get to my feet.

“Don’t move,” I command her—not that she can.

Pulling on my slacks, I head to the kitchen to collect various supplies for the tactile part of this game.

She doesn’t mean anything to me, though,I assure myself. This is just good sex, and she’s into the kink, which makes it even better.

I come back into the room, hands full. Sitting on the bed, I pull the sheet off her, exposing her nakedness as I place the plate of pancakes and fresh strawberries on her bare stomach.

Ava sucks in a breath, probably from the change in temperature, but her eyes are fixed on the food.

“Now it’s your turn to eat,” I explain. “What do you want on the pancakes, chocolate or whipped cream?”

Her eyes light up, and she smiles without meaning to. It’s such a carefree, happy smile. It’s a smile I want to keep putting back on her face again and again.

“Chocolate,” she says.

I chuckle. “I’m not surprised.”

I smother the pancakes and strawberries in chocolate sauce and then grab the whipped cream.

“This is my snack,” I say, bringing the bottle to her chest and spraying whipped cream all over her tits.

Ava gasps, staring down at the two little swirly mounds of whipped cream on her chest.

“But I’ll be a gentleman and let you eat first,” I say, slicing the pancakes and forking a piece, bringing it to her lips.

Watching her open her mouth for me makes me hard all over again, and I have to suppress another hunger so I don’t fill her mouth right then and there with something else.

She smiles, licking her lips as she eats the pancakes. I offer her tea or coffee, but she wants water first, and I give her that, too. She’s dehydrated from a long night, plus our tussle just now.

Sitting beside her, leaning over her, I feed her forkful by forkful. On the way to her mouth, however, I rub off some of the chocolate onto her chest, just under her breasts.

“Hey,” she protests, but I just smirk at her and lean down. I lick the chocolate off her skin, and a little tremor goes through her.

When she’s done, I set the plate on the night table. I take the chocolate sauce and dot her skin all along her midriff.

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