Chapter Ten
C hapter Ten
“Is that right?” Hendrix’s tone was velvet and heat, a slow pull that made the world fall away until all that remained was the sound of him and the way it sent fire racing through Zavian’s veins.
His mate’s gaze burned as it traveled over him, lingering shamelessly, each pause a stroke against Zavian’s pride—and his control.
The guy was demanding what Zavian had never given anyone before. Submission wasn’t in his nature, yet with his mate…it didn’t feel like weakness. No, it felt like strength, like the ultimate show of trust. Even if he’d made a colossal mistake, Zavian would give the man anything he wanted.
As Hendrix pressed Zavian into the couch cushions with his massive body, the air was saturated with a maddening mix of spice and warmth, pulling every sense into focus until nothing else existed. Then Hendrix’s lips brushed over the shell of his ear, soft as a whisper, causing Zavian’s pulse to hammer and his restraint to unravel piece by piece.
There was nothing hurried about the way Hendrix moved, no rushed intent in the brush of his lips or the subtle warmth of his breath. Every pause, every calculated touch felt planned, like Hendrix had all the time in the world to strip away Zavian’s defenses.
And gods, Zavian wanted to be stripped bare.
For the first time in his existence, he wanted to let someone else take the lead, to surrender not out of defeat but out of desire. This man, his mate, demanded everything without a single word, and Zavian was willing to give it.
Fingers slid up Zavian’s chest, the heat of the touch searing even through fabric. The deliberate weight of it sent his breath hitching, every nerve locking onto the slow, tantalizing path it followed. This wasn’t just a caress—it was an unspoken command, claiming him inch by inch.
Tilting his head back against the couch, Zavian exposed the line of his throat. Vulnerable. Open. It was an act that should’ve made him bristle, but instead, a shiver coursed through him. Not one of weakness but of need. Hendrix’s thumb brushed against his pulse point, a maddening tease, and Zavian curled his fingers around the cushions to ground himself.
“I don’t need you to hold back,” Zavian murmured, his voice raspier than he intended. The words felt foreign on his tongue, but they were true. He wanted all of Hendrix, unrestrained, unapologetic. If he was going to surrender, it would be on these terms. No masks, no barriers.
The sound of his mate’s low, sensual chuckle rumbled against Zavian’s skin as Hendrix’s lips ghosted down Zavian’s neck. “Oh, I know you don’t.” The words were spoken against the sensitive curve where Zavian’s neck met his shoulder, and the heat of Hendrix’s breath sent another jolt of need spiraling through Zavian. “But I like to take my time unraveling you.”
Unraveling. That was exactly what it felt like—carefully constructed composure, walls of defense, relentless control, all slipping away under Hendrix’s touch. His mate’s mouth moved lower, leaving an open-mouthed kiss just above Zavian’s collarbone, teeth scraping lightly against skin.
Zavian inhaled sharply at the scrape of Hedrix’s beard along his jaw, a low growl building in his throat, his hands lifting to thread through Hendrix’s hair. The strands were soft, silken, and the tactile connection grounded him even as it heightened his desire. “You’re playing with fire,” he warned, though there was no heat in the words—only the crackling embers of surrender.
Hendrix pulled back just enough to meet Zavian’s gaze. His eyes smoldered, dark with intent, and Zavian felt like he was being stripped bare without a single piece of clothing removed. “Good,” Hendrix said simply. “Because I intend to burn.”
The challenge in those words struck something deep within Zavian, fanning the flames that were already consuming him. His mate’s fingers worked at the buttons of his shirt, slow and deliberate, exposing more of Zavian’s skin to the cool air and Hendrix’s maddeningly warm hands. Every inch revealed felt like a victory Hendrix was savoring.
Wasn’t Zavian supposed to be the one giving his mate untold pleasure? He was the one who’d hurt this gorgeous, caring man. The only way to protect Hendrix is to leave. Worst advice he’d ever given himself.
Zavian could weave the most romantic love stories in the cosmos, but when it came to his own, he was about as smooth as jagged glass.
“Tell me what’s on your mind, sweetheart,” Hendrix murmured, his voice a silken thread that wrapped around Zavian, holding him in place. “My game must be rusty if you look like your mind is someplace else.”
“Rusty?” Zavian let out something between a snort and a laugh. “Babe, your game shines like a freshly minted penny.”
One of Hendrix’s dark brows arched. “So my game is worth one cent?”
“I didn’t mean—” He frowned, wondering if he would ever stop digging a hole with his mate.
Hendrix’s laugh rumbled deep, slipping beneath Zavian’s skin like the smooth burn of aged whiskey.
Bold.
Undeniable.
And leaving behind a lingering heat.
“You jerk.” Zavian smacked his mate’s chest. “I’m already in the doghouse. Stop making me think it’s gonna be my permanent residence.”
With a playful growl, Hendrix nipped Zavian’s fingers. His eyes glinted with mischief as he dragged his knuckles along Zavian’s cheek, the contact featherlight yet devastating. Then his smile slipped into a somber expression. “Promise me you’ll never leave in order to protect me.” He touched Zavian’s chin, forcing them to meet each other’s gaze. “Promise me.”
The graze of a knuckle brushed Zavian’s jaw, leaving a trail of heat that seeped into his skin. “I give you my word,” he murmured, remembering how badly he’d hurt Hendrix and never wanting to bring him that level of pain again.
The slight tilt of his mate’s mouth promised nothing innocent, but it was Zavian who wanted to unleash pure wickedness. He shoved his palms into Hendrix’s chest, forceful this time, until his mate leaned back with a frown.
“What’re you—”
He didn’t give his mate a chance to finish. Zavian took him down until Hendrix was on his back. His lashes lowered to half-mast as his gaze slid down to the waistband of Hendrix’s jogging pants.
Zavian pressed his lips to the hollow of Hendrix’s throat, the steady rise and fall of his mate’s chest brushing against him as he let his tongue trace the dip there. The sound that escaped Hendrix—half groan, half growl—was a melody Zavian could lose himself in. Beneath him, his mate’s body arched, a sharp inhale breaking through the heated quiet as Zavian’s teeth grazed just enough to tease.
Each kiss felt deliberate, precise, as though Zavian were marking his territory, one inch of Hendrix’s skin at a time. His hands skimmed down the muscled expanse of his mate’s torso, following the curves and ridges as though Hendrix had been carved from marble. The warmth beneath his palms grounded him, a reminder that this man was his.
His lips traveled lower, tasting the faint salt of Hendrix’s skin as he kissed along the deep line of his obliques. The sharp cut of muscle guided him like a map, each angle, each taut line begging to be claimed. Zavian paused, brushing a featherlight kiss against the edge of Hendrix’s waistband, savoring the way his mate’s breath hitched, the anticipation thick enough to taste.
The contrast of his lips—warm and soft—against the cool air left Hendrix shivering beneath him, though not from any chill. Zavian could feel the tension coiling in his mate’s muscles, the way his fingers flexed against the couch cushions as if bracing for more. And more was exactly what Zavian intended to give.
His tongue swept over the hard plane of Hendrix’s abs, tracing each ridge as though committing it to memory. Every inch revealed another secret, another thrill that had Zavian’s own pulse hammering in time with his mate’s. The firm ridges felt impossibly smooth beneath his mouth, a testament to the power and discipline that defined the man who had given Zavian his heart.
The hollow of Hendrix’s hip drew him like a magnet, his lips pressing there before he let his teeth scrape lightly, testing the edge of pleasure and pain. The sharp intake of breath and the way Hendrix’s hands tangled in his hair told Zavian everything he needed to know. The control, the trust, it was intoxicating.
And still, he wasn’t done.
Zavian dragged his lips over the thin fabric of Hendrix’s waistband, the maddening barrier only heightening his hunger. The warmth of his breath ghosted over sensitive skin, each exhale a promise, each pause a tease that had Hendrix shifting beneath him, seeking, wanting.
When Zavian’s hands slid up to frame his mate’s hips, they tightened, anchoring him, grounding the storm of emotion and need rolling through him. This wasn’t just about lust. It was about apology, redemption, and worship. It was about proving to Hendrix that he would never walk away again.
He lifted his gaze then, catching the darkened depths of Hendrix’s eyes, his pupils blown wide with desire. The way Hendrix looked at him—unwavering, unguarded—stripped him bare in a way that no touch ever could.
Zavian’s lips curled into a slow, dangerous smile. “I plan to ruin you,” he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly promise as he kissed his way back up, trailing fire and intention with every press of his lips.
Zavian’s fingers slipped beneath the waistband, the fabric soft and pliant under his touch as he hooked his thumbs there. The slow, deliberate tug sent the first few inches of Hendrix’s hips into view, revealing smooth, golden skin that made Zavian’s pulse drum in his ears.
His lips followed the descent, tracing the newly exposed flesh as his mate’s breath hitched audibly. The waistband resisted slightly, catching on the hard lines of Hendrix’s hips, and Zavian took his time, relishing the tension in his mate’s body as he pulled it lower.
Inch by inch, more of Hendrix’s powerful form was unveiled, and Zavian let his lips explore every part of it. He kissed the sharp dip of his mate’s hipbone, the skin warm and taut under his mouth. A low growl rumbled from Hendrix, his fingers tangling in Zavian’s hair and tightening as if he couldn’t stand the agonizing pace.
“Impatient?” Zavian’s voice was a dark purr, his tongue darting out to taste the salt of Hendrix’s skin.
“Keep teasing me,” Hendrix rasped, his tone roughened by desire. “See what happens.”
Zavian chuckled, the sound vibrating against Hendrix’s skin as he moved lower. His lips dragged over the thin fabric of the waistband, the heat of his mate’s cock evident beneath the barrier. The weight of it pressed against his cheek, and Zavian let out a low, approving growl, the sound deep and primal.
“You’re too good to me,” Zavian murmured, the words barely audible over the pounding of his own pulse. He hooked his fingers tighter, dragging the pants lower in one fluid motion.
The fabric slipped past Hendrix’s hips, and his cock sprang free, thick and heavy, slapping against his stomach with a satisfying thud. The sight alone was enough to steal Zavian’s breath, his mouth watering as he drank in the sight of his mate fully revealed.
A sharp inhale from Hendrix cut through the room, his hips shifting as if involuntarily seeking more contact. Zavian’s hands slid up to frame his mate’s hips, holding him steady, grounding him as he pressed a kiss to the base of Hendrix’s cock.
The heat of him was searing, the velvety skin under Zavian’s lips intoxicating. His tongue flicked out, tracing the vein that ran along the length, and the taste of Hendrix left him dizzy with need.
Hendrix groaned, a guttural sound that sent a shiver of triumph racing through Zavian. The fingers in his hair tightened, guiding him, demanding more.
“Zavian,” Hendrix hissed, the sound sharp, desperate, and filled with a rawness that threatened to undo him.
“Patience,” Zavian murmured against his skin, his voice a dangerous mix of amusement and promise. His lips lingered at the head of Hendrix’s cock, brushing lightly, teasing, before he dragged his tongue along the underside, tasting the salty bead of arousal there.
The reaction was immediate. Hendrix’s hips jerked up, his body seeking the heat of Zavian’s mouth as another growl rumbled from deep in his chest.
“Damn it, Zavian,” Hendrix ground out, his voice thick with frustration and want.
Zavian smirked, lifting his gaze to meet Hendrix’s. The sight of his mate, eyes darkened with desire, chest heaving with each breath, and hands fisted in his hair, was a vision of unrestrained passion.
“Do you want me to stop?” Zavian asked, his tone feigning innocence as his fingers ghosted along Hendrix’s thighs, the faintest touch designed to drive him mad.
“If you stop now, you won’t live to regret it,” Hendrix growled, the rough edge in his voice sending heat straight through Zavian.
“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” Zavian’s smile was pure sin as he leaned back in, his lips and tongue exploring the full length of his mate.
Each sound Hendrix made—a groan, a hiss, a sharp inhale—was a melody Zavian wanted to commit to memory, a symphony of need that spurred him on. His hands traced the powerful lines of Hendrix’s thighs, the muscles flexing under his touch as he continued his slow, deliberate worship.
Hendrix’s body was a masterpiece, every inch of him carved with strength and discipline, each inch an invitation to be worshiped with his lips, his tongue, and his hands.
“More,” Hendrix demanded, his voice breaking on the word as Zavian’s tongue pressed into the hollow at the base of his cock.
Zavian answered with action, letting his lips curl into a smirk against his mate’s skin as he surrendered fully to the moment, ready to give Hendrix everything he deserved—and more.
The act was as much a promise as it was passion. Zavian’s way of saying he was here, he wasn’t leaving, and he would make up for every mistake, one kiss at a time.
With a swipe of his tongue, Zavian tasted the faint musk that was uniquely Hendrix, the weight of his mate’s sac in his mouth almost undoing him. The way Hendrix arched into his touch, trusting him so completely, made Zavian’s chest ache in ways he couldn’t explain.
He wanted to worship Hendrix, to show him that he was more than a mate—he was the center of Zavian’s universe.
Every sound Hendrix made carved its way through him, sharp and electric, branding him in a way even eternity never had.
The quiet, broken noise Hendrix made as Zavian’s tongue teased the wrinkled flesh made his pulse race. He kissed his way up to the head of his mate’s hard, throbbing cock, each press of his lips punctuated by the sound of Hendrix’s labored breathing.
A low, rumbling purr caught his attention.
Lifting his gaze, Zavian was met with the sight of sharp canines glistening in the warm glow of the living room. Hendrix appeared wild and untamed, stirring a more intense desire within Zavian that made his chest tighten. He hadn’t expected to feel this much—this raw, all-consuming ache that was both pleasure and something far deeper.
Hendrix stroked Zavian’s hair, his gaze filled with a quiet strength. “I feel it too.”
How had he survived without this? Without Hendrix? Every breath, every taste, felt like a part of himself he hadn’t known he was missing.
The soft press of Zavian’s lips against his mate’s cock carried an almost reverent quality, causing a ragged growl to escaped Hendrix. Then Zavian engulfed his shaft, taking the length all the way down his throat. A guttural moan escaped Hendrix, his head falling back as Zavian used his throat muscles to wring every cry, every curse from his mate.
He wasn’t sure if he was worshiping Hendrix or being destroyed by him, and the lines blurred until he couldn’t tell the difference.
Hendrix’s skin was impossibly smooth beneath his tongue, tasting faintly of salt and warmth. Working his way back up the length, Zavian suckled the head, using his hand to stroke his mate. The wet slide of Zavian’s lips against the hard cock made Hendrix hiss, his hips bucking involuntarily.
“Zavian…” Hendrix swallowed roughly, his fingers strangling Zavian’s hair. “Close, baby. Real close.”
There was something almost sinful in the smoky rasp of his voice, like he’d been whispering secrets to the night itself and brought them all to this moment. The sound claimed Zavian, leaving no part of him untouched.
The first spurt shot down Zavian’s throat, salty and intoxicating, followed by a rush of his mate’s release. Zavian greedily drank every last drop, savoring the taste with a ragged growl.
If this was what it meant to lose control, Zavian would gladly surrender every ounce of it, again and again. This man—his mate—was everything he didn’t deserve and yet everything he couldn’t live without.
With a deep snarl, Hendrix jackknifed, grabbing Zavian and flipping him to his back. A sharp bark of laughter escaped Zavian right before his mate’s lips descended, causing Zavian to moan and writhe beneath his massive body.
“I want to bury my cock deep inside of you.” Hendrix’s voice wasn’t loud, but it carried the kind of weight that demanded attention, like the soft growl of a predator that knew it didn’t need to roar to get what it wanted.
Just as he raised his arms to curl around Hendrix’s shoulders, a loud, malicious voice cut through the quiet. “You son of a bitch!”