Master's Flame by Annabel Joseph Page B

her hand on her pussy, feeling hot and cold as he stared down at her with an intent look on his face. She was awake now, under his power, and he wanted her to masturbate. Okay.
    His eyes roved over her as she fondled herself, pausing at her nipples as she pinched them, then moving lower to her pussy. His regard alone was almost enough to make her come. She rubbed herself harder, toying with her nipples in a light, soft touch that usually got her off. She closed her eyes, then opened them as she sensed him move again. He brushed her fingers away from her nipples and grabbed them himself.
    His touch was not light or soft.
    She cried out as he twisted the sensitive peaks, and shied away from the torment.
    “Don’t stop,” he scolded as her hand left her pussy. “Spread your legs wider. Masturbate as you were told. You were all too eager to do it a few moments ago.”
    Yes, but then she’d been under her own control. Now, she was one hundred percent under his.
Give yourself up to him. Give him your pleasure.
    He let go of her nipples and took her face in his hands. “Come, damn you. That’s what I asked you to do.”
    She wanted to, but there was some fear or embarrassment that stopped her, some performance pressure she’d never had to deal with before. The longer she took, the more displeased he looked, which made it even more difficult. Finally he went to the nightstand and got a condom, and rolled it onto his rigid cock with an impatient sigh.
    “Come here.” He took her legs and dragged her toward him, not being careful of her cuts or bruises. “If you are going to be a sexual creature, then be one. No self-consciousness. No shame.” He nudged the head of his cock against her sensitive pussy, gathering her close. As she stared into his eyes, he pinned her hands above her head and pressed inside.
    Valentina drew in a sharp breath, arching her pelvis to accommodate his thick length. He was so solid, so impossibly firm sliding against her spasming walls. It seemed an eternity before he pushed all the way in, but she loved that it took a long time, because this was a joining she wanted to remember. He moved so slowly it was like the world turning, like nature breathing in and out. She counted every inch of his invasion, every measured breath. Sometime in the midst of this, he leaned down and caught her lips in a kiss. Not a tender, sweet kiss, but a biting and demanding one. This was challenge, not sweetness. He was driving her to be the “sexual creature” he claimed she was.
    She did her best to give him everything. People said she had no sense of self-preservation, and perhaps they were right. She welcomed every rough, pummeling thrust, sinking down into his possession. When the waves built, when her body started to tense and reach for that peak, she closed her eyes and drifted away on sensation, only to be drawn back by a sharp sound. He stared down at her, insisting on her attention.
    She lost herself in his gaze. She could have cried for the trembling pleasure he brought her, the completion of her fantasies, the fiery response he created every time he stroked her clit. She made noises she couldn’t control, pleading, moaning noises, but to look at him...to reveal herself to him this way was novel and frightening.
    And he knew it. Every time she looked away, he nudged her face back again. He persisted, forcing her compliance until the pure skill of his touches and strokes overcame her fears. She stared at him, wanting to cry, wanting to struggle, wanting to laugh and scream and explode as he braced himself over her, pounding into her. She loved being pinned down and forced to obey. She wanted to attack him as much as she wanted him to subdue her.
    When her orgasm came she did attack him, sinking her nails into the muscles of his arms and shoulders, trying to pull him down. He fought back, pushing her hard into the bed as her walls collapsed around him. He gave a shout that sounded very much like a roar. If her