Chapter Ten
The flower petals are definitely not going to survive this.
When his mouth finds mine, it’s nothing like before when we had an audience. This is just for us. This is after he’s said it’s not about faking it anymore.
His tongue finds mine while his tusks graze my skin. I fumble with his shirt buttons while we kiss. It takes longer than it should because his mouth is completely ruining my ability to concentrate, and my fingers keep losing track of what they are doing.
My heart is hammering against my ribs, loud enough that I’m certain he can feel it through my thin wrap dress.
I manage two buttons and the fabric tears slightly as I yank the third loose, desperate to feel his bare skin.
I push the heavy material off his wide shoulders and let it slide down his arms. Only then do I pull back an inch to breathe.
And to look at him properly.
I’ve felt the sheer bulk of him through his clothes, but seeing him is different.
Broven’s chest is a deep, rich green, marred by pale scars that run across his shoulders and the thick expanse of his chest. His muscles are built from years of fixing roofs.
Along his ribs, a long, jagged silver line runs all the way down to his bellybutton.
Without thinking, I reach out and touch it.
He doesn’t flex or try to shift into a better angle. He just stands there, his chest rising and falling heavily against my palm, letting me touch him wherever I want. That patience and that complete absence of performance undoes me more than anything else could.
His eyes drop to the tie of my wrap dress. His large green fingers catch the fabric, untying the knot with a slow, deliberate tug while his gaze stays locked onto my face. He watches my expression as the fabric slackens and the dress falls open.
His eyes move over me slowly, taking his sweet time as his gaze travels over all the parts I’ve spent years being self-conscious about.
But there’s no judgment in his stare. The expression on his face makes every single one of those agonizing thoughts I had about myself feel like a complete waste of time.
He’s not assessing or judging me. He’s looking at me the way he looked at me across the counter that first day, like I’m exactly what he came for.
He slides the dress off my shoulders and lets it fall down my legs where it pools on the floor.
“Stunning,” he says.
The rumble of his voice vibrates directly against my collarbone.
He reaches around my back and his large fingers find the clasp of my bra. With a single click, it’s gone, dropping away to join the dress on the floor.
His hands come around to cup my breasts.
His warm skin frictions against my sensitive flesh.
I gasp, and instantly grip his thick biceps for balance as his thumbs brush over my nipples until they are tight and aching, and I am pressing into his hands like I have no self-control left, which, fair enough, I don’t.
He dips his head and takes one nipple into his mouth while I grab his shoulders and hold on for dear life.
He moves between my breasts slowly, his tongue and teeth gentle, then firm, sending sharp waves of heat straight to my core. Then his mouth drags upward, charting the sensitive line of my throat, and I feel the smooth, curved press of his tusks against my collarbone.
It reminds me exactly what he is, and a surge of heat washes over me, threatening to drown me unless I give in completely. I tip my head to the side and bare my throat, giving him more room to whatever he wants with me.
Broven makes a low, guttural growl against my neck, and kisses me there. By the time he pulls back, my breathing is completely wrecked. I am squirming against him, the friction soaking my panties.
“Broven.”
“Mm.”
“I need… I need…”
Why can’t I get the words out? He’s truly driving me insane.
“I know what you need.” He lifts his head and looks at me with a mischievous smile. “I’ll get there.”
He puts his hands under my thighs and lifts me effortlessly, walking the few steps over to the king-sized bed. He swipes some rose petals off the sheets and lays me down.
He stands over me for a moment, just looking, and I lie there in nothing but my wet panties, feeling entirely seen and loving it.
He leans over the mattress and hooks his large green fingers into the waistband of my underwear. He pulls them down my legs slowly, and stares at my pussy, wet and bare, and completely exposed to him in the warm light of the suite.
The way his jaw clenches as he stares at me makes me feel so wanted that I truly believe I’m a queen to him.
He kneels on the bed between my thighs, his massive weight shifting the mattress, and lowers his head.
Oh boy. I know what’s coming next. He did it to me once, and believe me when I say that what he can do with his mouth should be studied.
For the benefit of all women, everywhere.
He starts with long, slow strokes of his tongue through my folds, not rushing to my clit, lapping up my wetness.
I grip the duvet and remind myself to breathe. When he finally wraps his lips around my clit, a loud, undignified sound rips from my throat and echoes off the exposed beams of the vaulted ceiling. He makes a low, satisfied sound in response.
Two of his massive fingers push inside me, slow and deep, stretching my pussy open. The sheer size of him inside me is heavenly, and my hips lift off the bed instinctively.
“Oh god,” I choke out. “Oh… I…. Broven!”
He curls his fingers, hitting a spot that makes my vision white out at the edges.
He works me relentlessly, his tongue circling my clit in a merciless, steady rhythm while his fingers thrust slow and deep until I can’t stop gasping.
The pleasure is so intense that I’m riding his face before I even consciously decide to. I don’t care it looks undignified. I’m way beyond that point.
“More,” I plead, my voice breaking. “Harder.”
His fingers drive into my pussy with more force, filling me completely, and his tongue presses flat against my clit until the tension snaps.
I come with my thighs clamped around his head, grunting his name.
My whole body shakes through my orgasm while he keeps drinking me in until I’m limp and wrung out, staring at the ceiling trying to remember my own name.
He presses one slow kiss to the wet, sensitive inside of my thigh.
Then he gets off the bed.
I prop myself up on my elbows, my breath still coming in ragged, shallow gasps, but I don’t want to miss this for the world.
Broven stands at the edge of the bed, reaches down and unbuckles his heavy leather belt.
He pulls his trousers and underwear down, then steps out of them and he kicks them away.
Oh.
That’s…
I swallow.
Okay then, that’s big. I had thought he would be, obviously. Everything about him is big, so I don’t know why I’m so surprised that his cock is big and heavy. The greenness of it is in stark contrast with the white sheets.
He catches my expression and the slight widening of my eyes, and he gives me a protective look.
“We’ll go slow,” he says.
I shake my head and scoot towards the edge of the bed. “Not before I get a taste.”