Chapter 31 Braxton
Braxton
When she says those two words, three things happen to me at once. My dick jumps to attention, my heart stutters in my chest, and my mind becomes distrustful.
“What?”
Azalea doesn’t falter. Keeping her eyes locked on mine, she repeats her demand. “Kiss me.”
I begin to shake my head, but I don’t step out of her embrace. The feel of her soft curves pressed into me feels too damn good to move away from.
“That’s a bad idea.”
“You don’t want to?”
I know that she’s goading me, but I happily walk into the trap all the same. I drop my face closer to hers, and watch her chest rise sharply as she startles. My lips curve into a smirk.
“I didn’t say that.”
“Then kiss me.”
Sky’s Divine, she’s practically begging me, and it’s muddying the reasonable part of my brain. Part of me wants to see how much I can drag this out. How much I could really get her to beg, for me, for my fingers, for my tongue, for my cock, but a smarter part of me is telling me to walk away.
She doesn’t know the full truth. Kissing her now would be taking advantage. I need to step away—
“Oh, for the love of all the celestials!” Azalea exclaims, before firmly gripping the back of my neck and pulling me into her. Her pillowy lips crash onto mine with rough purpose.
Now, I’m a strong man. I have an iron-clad willpower. But even I am not strong enough to resist kissing Azalea back now that I’m reminded of how delectable she tastes. My body thrums to life as if the shriveled parts of my soul have been filled with sunshine.
I haven’t felt her lips on my skin in a century, and it feels better than I remembered. My body springs into action, my hands gripping her waist and pulling her closer to me before wrapping around her back.
Every inch of me is starved, dehydrated, wilted, and barren, and this one kiss brings every piece of me back to life. Needing to explore further, my hands start to roam her body, memorizing every dip and curve.
I groan when she grinds her hips up and into me, her fingers climbing up my neck to tangle in my hair.
Our tongues battle for dominance, but I win out when I skate one of my hands up her body and around the back of her neck, knotting my fingers through her thick locks and pulling at the root.
Her head tips back, breaking our lips apart, and I scorch her skin with the heated kisses I begin to trail down her neck.
The moan that leaves her is the most beautiful melody I have ever heard, and I’m desperate to hear it again. I try to pull up the skirts of her dress, wondering why she always has so many blasted layers on.
“Wh-what are you doing?” she pants, dropping her head back when she feels my rough palm meet her bare skin.
“Relishing in my salvation,” I growl, backing her closer to the bed. My lips latch onto the exposed skin of her neck, and she lets out another gloriously musical moan.
Once we make it to the edge of my bed, I pull back. For a moment, I simply drink in the sight of her. Her lips are slightly swollen, her face and chest are flushed, and her hair cascades around her in a cacophony of curls. She’s fucking breathtaking. And she’s finally mine again.
“Sit,” I command.
I see her spine stiffen momentarily, the smallest hint of defiance flashing in her eyes.
For a moment, I’m torn between wanting her to do as I say and wanting her to fight me on it.
My dick is already painfully hard, but it stiffens even more as I think of all the ways I could get her to submit to me.
I watch her mind work until her curiosity eventually wins out and she does as I say.
“Good girl,” I praise, my voice a husky timbre. Try as she might, she can’t hide the shiver of pleasure that rolls through her body at hearing me say those words.
I drop to my knees, my eyes staying locked on hers as I work her skirts up. I’m looking for any signs of apprehension on her face as I continue to push the countless layers of satin fabric higher, past her calves, past her knees, up and around her thighs.
When I see a look of needy impatience color her features, I take that as my cue to stop wasting time.
Dipping my head under her skirts, I groan when I see the small strip of fabric keeping me from tasting her to her full extent.
My greed to take as much as she will give me in this moment leads me to tearing the lacy red strip of fabric from her body.
The satisfying rip combined with the sound of her gasp has me reaching down to squeeze my somehow still growing erection.
Even though it’s straining against the seam of my pants to an almost painful extent, I know this moment isn’t about me.
While I might be taking exactly what I want, this is still about her.
I bring my face closer to her dripping center at a torturous pace, peppering small kisses across the smooth skin of her thighs as I do so.
When I finally reach my targeted destination, I flick my tongue over her swollen and sensitive clit, and she immediately bucks against me in response.
I quickly pin her hips down on the bed, not wanting her movement to keep me from enjoying my meal.
Flattening my tongue, I lick her from her opening to her clit, letting her sweet taste fill my mouth.
“Braxton,” she gasps, her nails digging into my shoulders.
That right there is my undoing. Hearing her gasp my name while she marks me, blending my pleasure and pain, is enough to convince me that I might cum in my pants before this is over.
I bury my face deeper inside her center, flicking, rolling, and swirling my tongue in the perfect rhythm that I know drives her crazy.
I might not have touched her in decades, but I certainly didn’t forget how to pleasure her.
Because even if she doesn’t remember me, I know her.
I know her body, and I know exactly how to make it sing my praises.
We’ve both changed because of the curse, but this connection we have is exactly the same.
I feel her hips press further into my palms, instinctively wanting to fight against me as I bring her closer and closer to her peak.
“Say it again.” My demand comes out hoarse as lust coats my words.
“What?” she pants.
I pull my head out from under her skirts and am pleased to hear her whimper with displeasure.
“My name,” I clarify. “Say it again. In fact, scream it, so that, if only for a few hours, this entire castle knows how I make you feel.”
Her throat works and her chest heaves before she gives me a nod of agreement. When I continue my ministrations, playing to her needs perfectly, I hear her moan my name once more.
“Such a good fucking girl,” I praise.
Without saying a word, she rakes her fingers through my hair, grips tightly and shoves my face back between her thighs.
And great celestials, if that isn’t one of the sexiest things she’s ever done in her entire existence.
I waste no time bringing her back to the precipice of her pleasure, and when I feel her body begin to tense, I slow my movements, bringing her back down so that I can keep her right on the edge of her orgasm.
I do this about three more times before she tugs at the hair that is still knotted through her fingers.
“Braxton, what—”
“Beg me for it.”
“Braxton.” Her tone is warning.
“I’ve been tormented with the desire to touch you like this for a century. I’m most likely going to have to live off of this memory for another few centuries, so if you want me to make you come all over my face, then fucking beg me for it.”
Her nostrils flare, and I can see that she wants to fight me, and a sick part of me wants her to. While I wait for her answer, I take the pad of my middle finger and begin drawing lazy circles around her swollen bud.
I memorize watching every shift in her features as her resolve to defy me dies on her tongue. I press a little harder, and her head tilts back as a lecherous sigh escapes her.
“Azalea,” I taunt, keeping her right on the edge of her release.
“Please,” she grits out.
A smirk spreads across my face, and I apply a little more pressure with my finger. She moans and tries to push her hips further into me, but I hold her in place.
“I can’t hear you.” I roll my knuckles over her pulsing clit.
“Fuck, Braxton, please!” she gasps, and I lock the sound of her begging into my memory.
“As you wish, Wildflower.”
I dip my head back between her thighs, but this time as I wrap my lips around her clit, I slide two fingers into her drenched pussy and savor the way it makes her moan in ecstasy.
It doesn’t take long until I feel her writhe against me once again, her thighs tightening around my head.
Her body stiffens momentarily, and her walls squeeze around my fingers.
When I curl my fingers inside of her, she all but screams my name as pure bliss wracks her body.
The delicious taste of her coats my tongue, and the combination of hearing her cry out my name while she drenches my face in her pleasure has me finding my own release in my pants.
I’m breathing heavily as I lap up every bit of her release before coming out from under her dress.
I stand and look down at Azalea, my lips still glistening with her arousal.
I’m unable to keep myself from staring at her breasts as they swell with every panting breath she takes.
Her eyes are glossy with satisfaction, and her legs are trembling as she lies there.
She props herself up on her elbows to look at me, and when her gaze dips down to the mess I’ve made of myself, I see her lips twitch in a satisfied smile.
“Surely, I’m not going to forget that.”
I chuckle, but I can’t stop the despair that begins to seep into my bones. In a few short hours, she’ll do exactly that. In fact, I have no doubts that the taste of her on my tongue will last longer than her memory of what transpired between us tonight.
Azalea falls back onto my bed. “I’m exhausted.” She yawns, her eyes growing heavy.
“It’s the magic. The more you remember, and the stronger our connection becomes, the more exhausted you’ll get.
You should probably go back to your room.
” I grab my shirt off the floor and tug it over my head in an attempt to hide the hurt on my face from knowing I have to start all over again tomorrow.
“But we have so much to do. We have to…” A yawn breaks up her words. “Break the curse.”
I sit next to her on the bed, brushing my fingers through her hair. “We do,” I agree, watching as her eyes slowly close.
“Do you remember the day you first asked to court me?” Her voice sounds far off now as more of her memories return.
“You were so nervous,” she chuckles. At this point, her eyes are completely closed, and she’s curling into a ball on my bed.
“It’s so weird to think that that is the same man as you are today. ”
That’s because it’s not the same man, I think to myself.
“I remember everything when it comes to you,” I say instead.
“Liar,” she scoffs through a smile. “What was I wearing?”
“A pale blue dress with white off-the-shoulder sleeves. You had a gold chain around your neck that had been gifted to you by another man trying to court you.”
“Lucky guess,” she huffs, still not opening her eyes.
I smile and shake my head.
“What ever happened to that necklace?”
“I threw it over a cliff.” I shrug. “I wasn’t going to let you keep wearing the jewelry of another man.”
“Always so dramatic.” She yawns and pulls her hands under her cheek. “Can I stay for a while? I… I don’t want to leave you yet.”
My chest squeezes. Looking away from her to hide the anguish her words stir inside me, I nod my head.
“I’m going to take a short nap, and then we can get to work breaking the curse.”
I continue to run my fingers through her hair. “Of course.”
She slowly scoots to the foot of the bed, sighing contentedly when she brings her head to rest on my pillow. I curse knowing it will be a sick form of torture I put myself through counting how long her scent will last on that pillow before it fades entirely.
I stand from the bed, but her next words stop me.
“Will you hold me?”
I freeze and turn back to her, contemplating whether she meant to say that or if she’s talking in her sleep.
“Braxton?” She cracks an eye open. “Don’t make me beg again. Will you stay?”
“I’ll always stay, Wildflower.” I crawl into bed next to her, and she molds her back to my front.
Before long, I can hear her softly snoring next to me, and I don’t move from this spot.
Not when my arm falls asleep. Not when my stomach growls with hunger.
Not even when the sun begins to sink in the sky.
I don’t move. I brand every second I get to feel her body against mine to my memory. To see her in such a peaceful state is something I haven’t gotten to experience in far too long.
It’s not until she begins to stir, and I fear that she’ll wake up confused about how she ended up in my bed, that I lift her into my arms, and with the heaviest heart I’ve had to endure in a while, I carry her back to her room.
My slow descent back to my own bed chamber is filled with melancholic thoughts of what tomorrow will bring. The hatred I will have to endure from her once again. Her words of disbelief that I’ve been unable to break the curse, to get her to fall in love with me, ring endlessly in my ears.
I can’t help but think that maybe the reason I can’t get her to love me again is because of what I’ve become.
I’m not the same man she loved all that time ago.
I’ve hardened. I’ve become hateful. I’m a monster.
That’s what the world will see me as if I ever am able to reemerge into it.
Maybe all of those truths make me unworthy of love, least of all hers.