Chapter 73

With orange light filtering across my face from the bedroom’s swirling curtains, I stretched and patted across the mattress. Nothing but a cooling dent beside me marked Cinder’s absence. But after sniffing the aroma of fresh coffee, I smiled and stumbled to the bathroom to wash.

Once I’d made it to the bottom of the stairs, the sounds of cooking struck me. After following the scent of frying butter, I rounded the corner and spotted her pale physique.

Naked but for the choker, glittering around her neck, she pranced over the tile with her tresses in a high ponytail. So like Mandy. Except, as she twisted, the sunlight struck the diamond in the slender band. The one I’d had made centuries ago. Right as it sparkled, I realized.

She was no tentative, exploratory Mandy. No, she possessed her own unique needs and had much rougher expectations of me. While also based on trust, our bargain was different. Yes, the gods snickered as I ignored the deeper questions, but I set my jaw. After glancing at my stiffening mast, I strode forward.

At my footfalls, she spun. No sooner had those emeralds spotted the ruddy member swaying before me than they blazed. Such hunger and pure need rippled through her. She stood shaking until, at last, she lifted her gaze to my smile.

“Um, good morning, master,” she murmured.

“Slave.” I nodded to the pan.

“Uh, pancakes. Erville mentioned—”

“Hmm.” While rubbing my chin, I gave her trembling form a slow scan. “I see something else I want for breakfast.”

“Oh, God, mas—”

Her voice died in a whimper as I reached past her to grab the syrup. When I gripped her elbow to turn her, she shuddered. Then moaned as I poured a trickle of glistening sweetness over a stiff nipple. The whimpering became loud groans when I bent to engulf the top of her juddering tit. As I suckled between playful bites of her stem, she bucked into me.

By the time I’d given the other perky globe the same treatment, the scent of her need was as powerful as the aroma from the griddle. She swayed after me as I leaned to place the bottle back on the countertop.

“What do you want, slave?” I smiled at her while straightening.

“Mmm, master.” With her entire body shaking, her gaze flashed downward. “C-Cock, um, master.”

“Good.”

After spinning her to face the counter, I gripped the ponytail in one hand and my root in the other. A swift shove of my fingers, tightening in her silken tresses, and she mashed onto the surface. With her arms stretching outwards to claw at the tile, I eased into her.

“Oh, very nice. So, wet,” I muttered while pushing deeper into her clenching walls. “Hmm, always so horny. I could get very used to owning you, slave. Don’t mind, do you?”

Yes, it was a stupid question. But it felt right to ask once more. Call it a monster check. Unable to do more than hiss from her shaking lips, she nodded in my grip. When my pelvis pressed into her, pinning her to the counter, her dangling feet swept upwards to caress my legs. Message received.

Smile on my face, I gripped her hair tighter and eased back and forth. Right as I pushed into her with a forceful twist, her first scream erupted. More followed when the wet sounds of our bodies slapping together and the rhythmic thumping of her frame into the counter quickened. Each cry was matched by the powerful clenching of her slippery insides and the shuddering of every muscle in her body. Soon enough, my muscles began their familiar tensing.