Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 80903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Kaitlyn sighed.
“Hopefully she wants to give us the Love Vine. After all, you did save her life last night.”
He shrugged, his broad shoulders rolling.
“I guess so. I was mainly focused on protecting you.”
Kaitlyn’s heart fluttered.
“Thank you for saving me,” she murmured.
“No need to thank me, Mistress.” His golden eyes burned with intensity. “I will always be there to keep you safe—always.”
As he moved around the room, Kaitlyn stayed on the bed for a moment, the ghost of his touch still on her skin…the phantom feeling of his broad crown piercing her entrance seared into her memory.
God, she wanted him! The urgency of the summons to Court warred with the deeper, more primal urgency her Protector had ignited in her blood, and she was almost tempted to ignore her duty—almost.
They wouldn’t fuck today—that much was clear. But as she watched his powerful back disappear into the other room and felt the slick evidence of her own desire between her thighs, she knew something with absolute certainty—
The next time she had Braze chained to her bed, no power in the universe would stop her from claiming what was hers.
24
BRAZE
The messenger’s footsteps faded, leaving a silence that rang with unfulfilled need. The air was still thick with the scent of Kaitlyn’s arousal and his own desperate hunger.
Every nerve in Braze’s body was a live wire, screaming for completion. The feel of her—hot and wet and ready—sinking down on him was like a physical brand. His cock throbbed—an angry, neglected ache, leaking a steady line of pre-cum that trailed down the underside of his shaft.
He couldn’t go before the Empress like this, Braze thought. Aching…distracted…half-craze with desire. It was a vulnerability he couldn’t afford, not with Kaitlyn’s safety in the balance. Because who knew what might happen at Morning Court? After the debacle with the Kriver last night, he couldn’t take anything for granted.
“I need a moment,” he ground out, his voice rough and hoarse in his own ears. He turned and strode into the fresher, closing the door behind him and leaning against it for a second, his eyes squeezed shut.
The cool, marble bathing chamber did nothing to douse the fire in his blood. If anything, the solitude amplified it. He could still smell her on his skin—the sweet, feminine fragrance of her feminine desire, layered with the lighter scent of the soap from their shower last night.
Braze looked down at himself and grimaced. He was fully, painfully erect—his shaft dark with blood, the head flushed and slick with precum. He’d come several times last night, but his foolish body didn’t seem to know that. It just wanted to come again—preferably while buried to the hilt in Kaitlyn’s tight little pussy.
Well, that wasn’t going to happen. Not now, at least, though he had definite hope for the future. The way she’d chained him up and teased him was every fucking fantasy he’d had for years come true. He fucking loved submitting to her—hopefully he’d have another chance in the near future.
But for now, he had to have some relief before he went out in public.
With a low groan, he reached for his rigid length…only to be greeted by a sharp, painful shock from the non-con manacles.
“Fuck!” he growled. Now what was he supposed to do?
He leaned back against the door, letting the memories flood him as his cock throbbed…letting them get him where he needed to go.
He remembered the exact weight of her in his lap last night at the banquet… the hidden, forbidden pressure of his cock between her thighs. He remembered the sight of her on her knees before him in the shower, all wet and sleek.
But most of all, he remembered the feeling of her chaining him to the bed just minutes ago. The bite of the manacles on his wrists… the strain in his shoulders as he offered himself to her. The look in her eyes—not cruelty, but a dawning, powerful ownership—as she explored his body. The feel of her soft mouth on his nipple…her fingers stroking him…her hot breath bathing the most sensitive parts of him…
“Kaitlyn…Mistress,” he groaned into the empty room. He pictured her above him, riding him, taking her pleasure from his body as he’d begged her to. He imagined her keeping him chained for hours—days—servicing her with his tongue until she was satisfied, his own release perpetually denied, a willing slave to her whim.
Even though he couldn’t touch himself, the fantasy—combined with the visceral memory of her scent and her touch—pushed him over the edge. With a choked, guttural roar he muffled against his own arm, his orgasm ripped through him. Thick ropes of cum shot across the pristine marble floor, stripe after stripe, as his body convulsed with the force of it.
It was a fierce, lonely release, draining the immediate, frantic need from his body but leaving a deeper, more profound hunger untouched. He was hers. And this solo emptying was a pitiful placeholder for the Bonding he truly craved.