Page 70 of Cruel Master

With a sigh, as soon as we hit the kitchen, she left my embrace to hurry across the tile and unload the ice cream. She filled a bowl for herself and then stowed the remaining containers away. I watched and waited, my shoulder against the doorframe as she bustled around the open area normally filled with employees during the day. I liked it like this—with just her and me. Her face was bright with excitement as she dove into her bowl of ice cream. She moaned again and licked the spoon clean.

Unable to help myself—not with those intensely carnal sounds she kept making—I shoved away from the wall and circled the island to put both hands on the countertop on either side of her. “Are you done with your snack now, love?” I asked, nuzzling the side of her throat.

The quick inhale before she spoke made my insides heat. “Maybe I am, and maybe I want another bowl,” she said, her tone strained as she forced casualness that I knew she didn’t feel.

No, she didn’t feel at all casual right now. I lifted my hands from the countertop and gripped her tits, relishing in the weight of them. They’d gotten heavier in the past few months as she’d gotten rounder and rounder. Her nipples hardened into tight little buds and I pinched them between my thumb and forefinger, gently rolling them back and forth. Another thing I hadn’t anticipated was just how attracted I would be to my pregnant wife. Seeing her like this, soft and full with the evidence that I’d marked her—made her mine—made me want to see her like this always.

“Gaven…”

“That’s not what you call me when we play, is it, sweetheart?” I prompted her, tightening my hold on her nipples until she cried out and clamped both of her own hands on the ledge of the counter.

“Master!” she gasped out the word. “Master … please…”

“Please, what?” I kissed her throat. “Good girls ask for what they want, Angel.”

“I want to come,” she pleaded.

“Do you?”

She nodded and tipped her head back to look up at me with glassy eyes. The gaze of a perfect sub—and almost perfectly satisfied.

“How?” I asked. “Do you want to come on my hands?” I moved away from her nipples, stroking down her sides. “Do you want my mouth?” I kissed her throat again, setting my teeth to her flesh and biting down until she undulated against the stool she sat on and let out a keening wail. “Or perhaps you want my cock?”

In a flash, Angel shoved away from the counter and spun to look up at me. She hooked her hands at the back of my neck and went to her toes just as I leaned down and wrapped one arm under her knees and another around her back. As I lifted her against my chest, her lips met mine—harder than before. She kissed me like a woman in need of sustenance.

I began walking—keeping my eyes open as I wove through the doorways and up the stairs toward our bedroom. She didn’t stop kissing me, even when I pulled my lips away. Instead, her sharp little teeth bit down on the column of my throat.

I jerked as we stopped in front of our bedroom. “You’re going to pay for that, Angel,” I warned her.

She licked the spot before gazing up at me with a smile. “You’ll make me like it,” she replied.

“Oh, will I?”

Angel reached out with a very knowing grin, grasped the knob, and opened the door for me. I strode inside and kicked it shut before letting her lower body go, slipping down the front of my pants so that she could feel my erection straining against the fabric.

“Yes,” Angel replied. “Because that’s just the type of cruel master that you are.”

She was right. I was a cruel master, and she was the most wicked of angels. We were a match made in Hell, and even in death, I doubted we would ever part.