Total pages in book: 767
Estimated words: 732023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 3660(@200wpm)___ 2928(@250wpm)___ 2440(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 732023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 3660(@200wpm)___ 2928(@250wpm)___ 2440(@300wpm)
Afterward, he pulls me into his arms. His voice is gentle, but stern. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“The harder you fight me, the harder I’ll push.”
I lower my eyes. “The food… I don’t appreciate the gesture.”
“Ah.” He says it as if he suddenly understands everything that’s going on in my head.
“Look at me.”
I oblige. Grudgingly.
“What are you to me, Valentina?” “An investment,” I bit out.
“What do I do with my investments?”
“Take care of them.”
He brushes a thumb over my cheek. “I like to take care of you. Is that so bad?”
Yes, dammit. I want to be more than someone’s investment. “You can’t force food on me.”
“Yes, I can. You can eat what I tell you or be force-fed. It’s your choice, but it’ll please me if you accept it without arguing.”
It shocks me how badly I want to please him. What the hell is wrong with me?
“Whatever you need,” he continues, “I want you to tell me.”
I can only stare at him, not sure what is changing between us, but the balance is shifting.
He runs a forefinger over my lips. “Is there anything you’d like to tell me now?” The air of anticipation that hangs around him makes him seem vulnerable, as if he has more to lose than me in this strange game playing off between us.
“No,” I croak, not sure what he wants from me.
As I expected, my answer disappoints him, but he doesn’t pursue the matter. He simply kisses me until my desire spikes again before he gets to his feet and unbuckles his belt.
* * *
Gabriel
What did I expect from Valentina? To open up to me? Why is it important to me that she tells me about her studies out of her own, free will? I don’t have an answer. I only know I want to hear it from her. Until she admits it, I won’t tell her I discovered the truth.
Besides keeping an eye on Valentina’s eating habits, worry about Carly’s date dominates the rest of my week. On Friday night, I have men placed around the movie theatre. Discreetly, of course. Still, I don’t relax until my daughter is home safe and sound, bubblier than ever. If Sebastian put as much as a finger on her, my men would’ve acted, and I’m glad it didn’t come to that. Carly comes to my study to say goodnight. She surprises me with an uncharacteristic kiss on my cheek and a hug.
When the house is quiet, I make my way to Valentina’s room. It’s a routine I look forward to, a fix to which I’m already addicted. My steps fall unevenly on the kitchen floor. My limp is heavier, tonight. There’s rain in the air. The humidity makes my joints ache.
My breath catches when I open her door. She’s spread out on the bed, naked. Her golden skin is flawless, except for the tiny beauty spot under her left breast. The small mark of imperfection only adds to her allure. In her sleep, she looks more vulnerable and innocent than when she watches me with her big, frightened eyes. Her folds already glisten with the arousal I conditioned her to have. Walking to the bed, I stare down at her. Usually, my presence is enough to wake her, but she’s been tired, lately. Too tired. It doesn’t help that I steal an hour of her sleep time, but I have very little control where Valentina is concerned. I take another moment to study her body. I like looking at her when she’s sleeping. The voyeuristic act is invasive, but it turns me on and feeds a dark part of me.
After a few seconds, she starts to stir. Her eyelids flutter, and her lashes lift. I read her expression as she rises from her sleep. First, there’s recognition and then desire. There’s no more fear or resistance. She’s ready for the next step.
Keeping my clothes on, I stretch out next to her on the bed, lifting myself up on my elbow. Immediately, she spreads her legs. The submissive act makes me dizzy with desire. If I’d remained standing, she would’ve sat up on her knees for me, legs wide, just like I taught her. I reward her with a soft kiss, my tongue spearing through her lips and stroking hers while I’m playing with her breasts. I can get drunk on her moans. I want to drown in her arousal, but I have other plans for her pussy tonight.
I run my hand down her stomach to her sex. I stroke the pad of my middle finger up and down her slit, working moisture to her clit. When she’s drenched in her own wetness, I clamp my mouth over hers and drive the first digit of my finger into her soaked channel. She’s soft like velvet and so fucking wet. So hot. Her eyes fly open, and she gasps into my mouth. I eat the sound like an addict, greedily swallowing the whimpers that follow when I twist my finger a few times. When Engelbrecht examined her he told me there’s no membrane––not an uncommon occurrence with virgins––so there shouldn’t be any bleeding, but goddammit she’s tight. Sucking her lips into my mouth, I drive home, burying my finger all the way inside, and then hold still while I stretch her. This time, she moans loudly into my mouth. I don’t mind if she screams. Her room is too far for anyone in the house to hear, but I want to eat her sounds of pleasure like I eat her orgasms. I want to swallow her essence in every sensory way possible to carry it inside of me. I want her to be a part of me in the most literal sense.