Chapter 5
FIVE
Seraphina
I kiss him again, slower this time, pouring everything I feel into it.
Love. Trust. The terrifying vulnerability of letting someone see the softest parts of me.
When I finally pull back, his eyes are still shining with unshed tears. I reach up and carefully untie the rope binding his wrists to the headboard. The enchanted fibers fall away easily, and I massage his wrists gently, checking for any marks.
"Do you need anything else?" I ask softly.
He turns his head and kisses my shoulder, the gesture so tender it makes my chest ache. "I'm satisfied."
"Good."
"But..." He hesitates.
I stroke his fur. "But what?"
"I want your satisfaction too."
Something warm blooms in my chest. "I am satisfied. Being here for you, taking care of you—that's what I need."
"I know." His enormous hand slides up my thigh. "But I want to do something for you."
"Bram?"
"Please, Mommy." His eyes find mine, earnest and desperate. "I want to taste you. I want to feel your juices gushing down my face."
Heat floods my body instantly. "You're a dirty little bear."
He smiles shyly. "Does that mean yes?"
I cup his face with both hands. "You're Mommy's weakness. I can't refuse anything my little one asks of me."
His entire face lights up. "Really?"
"Really." I lie back against the pillows. "You can taste my pussy and do whatever you want."
The expression of pure joy on his face is almost comical. Most monsters I've been with barely tolerate giving oral sex, treating it like an obligation before they can get to what they really want.
But Bram looks like I just gave him the greatest gift imaginable.
He positions himself between my legs, his huge hands sliding up my calves, over my knees, along my thighs. Every touch is reverent, worshipful.
"Your legs are so beautiful," he murmurs. His fingers trace patterns on my skin. "Strong and elegant."
He moves higher, his palms spanning my waist. "Your body gives me so much comfort."
His hands slide up to cup my breasts. "You're perfect."
Then his expression shifts. Something sad and distant flickers across his features.
I reach down and stroke his cheek. "What's wrong?"
I can tell that something has shifted in the air. I've never seen Bram look so heartbroken, like there's something painful cutting through his happiness.
"I was just thinking..." He swallows. "About my past. My mother."
My heart clenches. "Do you want to tell me about it?"
He nods but doesn't speak immediately.
I sit up and wrap my arms around him, pulling his enormous body against mine. He tucks his head beneath my chin, and I hold him tight, creating a safe space with my body.
"Take your time," I whisper into his fur.
His breath shudders. "My mother was a human.
She was beautiful and wanted to marry into wealth.
My father, a werewolf, was initially attracted to her body and sex appeal.
But when she got pregnant, she started getting fatter and he lost interest in her and left her.
That made her angry and resentful, because she had always dreamed of being a rich wife. "
I keep stroking his back, my fingers moving in soothing circles.
"When he abandoned her, she blamed me." His voice cracks. "She said I ruined everything. That if it wasn't for me, she could have had so much more."
"Oh, sweetheart."
"She used to hit me." The words come out flat, emotionless, like he's reciting facts. "Sometimes she left marks."
My hand stills on his back. I feel something under my fingertips—a raised line of scar tissue.
"Is this one of those marks?" I ask, my voice tight. I stroke it, but the more I do, the more the rage inside me increases. I cannot believe anybody would treat someone as gentle as Bram in such a manner. It's unforgivable.
He nods. "She struck me with a sharp object once."
Rage floods through me, hot and immediate. "What else did she do?"
"She... she poured hot water on me once. When I accidentally broke one of her expensive glasses."
My grip on him tightens. I pull back just enough to look into his eyes.
"You were just a child," I say fiercely. "You poor, sweet little boy. How could she have done something so horrible to you?"
Tears spill down his cheeks, disappearing into his fur. "She abandoned me when I was fifteen. Just... left. I moved to the monster part of the city and started working as a barista because here you don't need to be eighteen to get a full-time job."
"Oh, Bram. I'm so sorry."
"She always told me I was worthless." His voice breaks completely now. "That I ruined her life. That I wasn't rich enough, wasn't good enough, couldn't provide for her."
He starts crying in earnest, his massive shoulders shaking. "I'm afraid you'll leave me too. Because I can't give you expensive things. I can't?—"
"Stop." I cradle his face in both hands. "Baby, look at me."
His wet brown eyes meet mine.
"I don't need you to give me expensive things," I say firmly. "I'm rich enough to afford a luxurious life myself. It's my responsibility as your Mommy to take care of you financially. Not the other way around."
"But—"
"Your devotion is the greatest luxury I could ask for.
" I stroke his tears away with my thumbs.
"Your caring nature. The love you shower me with.
Those things are worth more than any amount of money or designer bags.
And you know what? Most people will never have someone as devoted, caring, and loving as you in their life. That's the real luxury."
His breath hitches.
"I feel valuable when I'm showered with attention, love, and devotion," I continue. "When I feel important and needed in someone's life. That's what you give me, Bram. Every single day. You make me feel valued."
I kiss him softly. "I'm so glad you came to me. That I had a chance to show you what true nurturing and care feels like. You deserve to be loved and nurtured, baby. And I hope I've been able to give you that as your Mommy."
"I'm so glad I met you, Mommy," he whispers. "You're nothing like my mother. You're strong and self-reliant. You're loving, but you're also strict and don't spoil me. You're my dream person."
Fresh tears stream down my face now. "I love you, baby boy."
"I love you too, Mommy."
Then, before I can respond, he nuzzles down between my thighs.
"What are you doing?" I gasp.
He looks up at me with those earnest brown eyes. "I want to thank you for everything you've given me."
Then his tongue drags along my slit.
"Oh god."
He licks again, slowly, thoroughly, like he's savoring every drop. His huge hands grip my thighs, holding me open for him.
"You taste incredible," he murmurs against my pussy.
His tongue finds my clit and circles it gently. Pleasure sparks through my nerve endings. My hips arch involuntarily.
"That's it," I breathe. "Just like that. Oh my God. Your tongue feels so good down there."
He increases the pressure, flicking his tongue over the sensitive nub before sucking it into his mouth. My hands fly to his head, gripping his fur.
He doesn't seem to mind. If anything, he becomes more enthusiastic, his tongue delving deeper, fucking into me while his nose presses against my clit.
"Such a good boy," I moan. "Making Mommy feel so good."
He groans against me, the vibration sending another wave of pleasure through my body.
His tongue is everywhere—licking, sucking, devouring me like I'm the most delicious thing he's ever tasted. His enthusiasm is intoxicating. Most men approach oral sex with clinical precision or barely concealed impatience.
But Bram worships me.
He slides two thick fingers inside while his mouth focuses on my clit, and the combination makes stars explode behind my eyelids.
"I'm close," I warn him.
He responds by curling his fingers, finding that perfect spot inside me while his tongue works faster.
My orgasm crashes over me like a tidal wave. I cry out, my thighs clamping around his head as my pussy clenches rhythmically around his fingers. Wetness gushes over his face, dripping down his chin, and he laps it up eagerly.
"Yes," he murmurs reverently. "Yes, Mommy."
He keeps licking, drawing out my pleasure until I'm trembling and oversensitive.
Finally, he pulls back. His face is absolutely drenched—fur matted with my fluids, mouth glistening, eyes bright with happiness.
He looks so proud of himself. So content.
And that's when it hits me with absolute certainty:
I'm in love with him.
Not the tentative, cautious love I felt before. Not the love tempered by fear and old wounds.
This is everything.
Raw and terrifying and perfect.
I reach down and pull him up beside me. He comes willingly, his huge body curling around mine as I wrap myself around him.
"My sweet little bear," I whisper into his fur.
He nuzzles against my neck. "I'm yours, Mommy."
"Yes." I kiss his forehead. "You are. And I'm never letting you go."