She tried to eat slowly, doing her best not to gorge herself on the warm meal. The bread in her hand was soft and springy, fresh and the smell... Her stomach growled at her impatiently.
"How many matrons are there? I mean... how many come... here?"
Langdon smirked at her from across the table, his dinner only half eaten but shoved away. He was slanted back in the dining chair, looking long and big, wearing only tight boxers. He had another whiskey balanced against his thigh, fingers curled around the glass. He hasn't been drinking it, though. His eyes followed her movements instead as she took another bite of bread.
"There are over twenty families in your zone, fourteen matrons. Seven come to me and the others go to my partner." His face was unreadable, completely slack and passive. "Eat, before it's cold."
He purposely continued studying her, never looking away. Jetta started to fidget under his surveillance, leaning closer to the table. He had put his own shirt on her before seating her at the table and she swam in it, the sleeves rolled and shoved up as she took another bite full of potatoes.
"Are they more like me? Or mama?"
"Most of them are like your mother," he told her, a bemused and personal smile curling on his lips. Her mother had never really told her much about this provider in particular. Just that he was... smarter than the last, more discerning. "You're certainly the youngest I've had."
Jetta swallowed down another scoop of potatoes. "How long are you a Provider?"
"Four more years." He leaned forward and set the whiskey glass beside her plate before nodding at it. That meant more than five years but less than ten. "We'll be together awhile, Jetta."
She put the bread down to take up the glass, noting how cloudy it was. Her eyes lifted to his and she found darkness in his eyes.
"I won't fight you."
"Just to take the edge off the pain," he murmured quietly, reaching for her wrist and rubbing against it. "You'll appreciate this later. You'll feel calmer."
She lifted the glass and started swallowing it down.
*
He was right. She did appreciate the loose and lagging feeling. It made her limbs heavier but dulled the pain of him filling her from behind.
She'd lost track of how many times he had filled her full of cum. Maybe four all together? Five?
"Put your head down," he directed, slapping her ass hard in emphasis. "Arch your back."
She did as told, moaning as he slanted his hips to match her movement and slipped deeper inside her. She could feel how wet she was, how slick they both were. His hands kept her in place by gripping on her hips, fingers digging in as he sped up. The sounds he was making went a little wilder, more sporadic and grunting. She could tell he had found a deep and pleasing rhythm because he was more invested, more passionate in his movements and sounds.