Chapter 74

Five days later, I was perched on a stool at an upscale bar in Rio. Nestled amid the ritziest hotels, the place catered to expats and tourists with too much cash to burn. On the plus side, the hookers were also far better looking, even if they were only eye candy for me. Because with a second overpriced whiskey swirling in my hand, I still couldn’t get Cinder out of my mind.

Not regrets. No, we’d fused into what she craved, and what the deepest, scariest part of me admitted I needed. Our relationship was unique; beyond what I shared with Mandy. Darker. Rougher. If Cinder had any limits, we’d both enjoy me flinging her moaning pale frame across them.

Perhaps she hadn’t understood when I’d said we were linked. Or possibly she didn’t possess the same strong connection.

“But I damn sure do,” I mumbled over the rim of a tumbler as that primal growl built in my soul.

Amid the sleep-inducing jazz that flooded the quiet room, nobody’d heard me. At least nobody who’d care. Most of the conference attendees, a mix of teams and HQ experts, were out on the town after the endless briefings. Which left me plenty of time to peruse the memories of...

“Gods above, only a single day.” I snorted, then took a sip.

The way she’d ridden me that morning in her kitchen flashed back into my memory. At first, her sleek frame had eased up and down, caressing my cock with her tight ass. But no sooner had my hands found her clit and sharp nipples than she’d become a wild beast. Oh, the pleas and moans grew ever louder as I drove her bouncing curves to the very edge of need.

When at last I’d let her come, racing my fingers along her thrusting seam, an ear-shattering cry had torn from her. Yet, with me still hard, her pale body, tinged a deep pink, kept flying up and down as waves of pleasure pummeled her. Once she could move no more, I’d tilted her sweat-slick body forward to splat on the table.

Right then, it had happened. Old lessons had wandered back to me. After gripping her hands in a fist, I’d pressed them into the center of her spine. With a feral yowl, she’d arched upwards as I thrust deep. In my tight grip and pinned to the table, she very much became mine to use. And, yes, I damn well used her. Then flooded her once more.

“My very own sex slave,” I whispered, then chuckled over the tumbler’s shiny rim.

Alone, that would have been enough to solidify our bond, but she hadn’t been done. No, she had something more to prove. After leaving her panting, spraying misty foam across the spit-shiny tabletop, I’d gone upstairs to wash.

Once done, just as I stood before the commode, taking a piss, she appeared in the doorway. Not a word left her as she slid to her knees and took my emptying rod in a gentle hand. Okay, it’d been a while since I had a slave do that.

However, she went beyond any training when she leaned forward, mouth open. As the amber stream spattered in a bubbly froth over her outstretched tongue, every muscle within my body tensed. Somehow, they tightened further when she sealed her lips to swallow the rest of my pee. The gentle swirl of her tongue and slow, but forceful suck to draw the last of it, had my knees shaking.