Chapter 54 Azalea
Azalea
Needing no further instruction, Braxton gently grasps my ankle and begins kissing his way up each leg. Every soft brush of his lips brings me a little closer to the brink of insanity. Right before he gets to my throbbing center, he pulls back.
“Braxton,” I whine, not caring how needy I sound.
“Up.” His commanding tone has my core clenching.
Doing as I’m told, I stand, the top of my dress falling a little further down before pooling at my waist. I watch as Braxton lies flat on the armchair.
“Turn around.”
My brows pull together, but I do as he instructs and turn my back to him.
“Now sit.”
My cheeks heat as I figure out where this is going. Walking over to his lap, I lift one of my legs, readying myself to straddle his hips.
“Not there.”
I pause, looking at him over my shoulder and making my confusion evident. When he pulls his lips inward before wetting them with his tongue, I realize what he means.
“Braxton—” I hesitate, my desire growing heady at his suggestion.
He looks at me with half-mast eyes before he reaches forward and gingerly grips my hips pulling me backward toward his face.
“I’ve never…” I can’t seem to finish the sentence, my bronzed skin growing pink from the intensity of my blush.
“I know.”
“I don’t think—”
“Sit on your throne, Azalea,” he rasps, and I oblige.
Lifting one of my legs, I hover over his face, feeling his hot breath fan against the dampened fabric acting as my sole shield from the onslaught I’m about to receive from his tongue. His finger hooks in my underwear before pulling it to the side.
“All the way,” he demands, and I shiver as I lower my hips. The moment his tongue glides along my slit before flicking over my clit, my hips buck in response.
He reaches up to hold me in place before he begins effortlessly working me with his tongue. When he flattens his tongue against me, I have to clutch the back of the armchair to keep myself upright. My body instinctively begins grinding against his face, chasing the pleasure he’s giving me.
“Such a good girl taking what you need,” he praises, and I never knew the power of praise until Braxton started saying things like this to me.
I melt further into him, and when I moan his name, I see his cock twitch in front of me.
Letting my body fall forward, I brace myself on one arm and grip his hard length in my hand.
His hips buck in response to my touch, but he never ceases his ministrations on me, even as I slowly lick up his long shaft, swirling my tongue around his tip.
He responds with a guttural groan of approval, and I feel the vibrations of him moaning into me, which only encourages me further.
I quickly take as much of him into my mouth as I can.
His hips instinctively snap up, pushing him deeper down my throat, and I bask in the feeling of him filling me while feasting on me.
Tears spring to my eyes as I begin to bob up and down, fighting to focus on him while also feeling him put all of his focus on me.
I’m equally worshipping and being worshipped and everything about that notion feels euphoric.
When he slips two fingers inside of me, making me feel full in an entirely new way, I can’t help but moan around him.
The mixture of everything has me ready to detonate, and as much as I want to hold off to make this last as long as possible, he completely unravels me the moment he curls his fingers inside of me.
I have no choice but to release him from my mouth as it all becomes too much, and I cry out his name. Not gasp. Not moan. Not whimper. I scream, and he is relentless in drawing out my orgasm until I’m trembling and begging him for mercy.
“Making a mess of me already, and we’ve barely begun.” Braxton’s husky timbre dances across my skin as his hand skates along my spine.
With unsteady legs, I slowly lift myself off of him, swinging around so that I’m no longer straddling his face. I’m grateful when Braxton puts a hand out to steady me, before sitting up on the armchair.
His hands wind their way around my waist and pull me toward him until I’m straddling his lap again. Now that our faces are closer together, I can see my arousal glistening on his dampened lips and chin, and my cheeks pink at the sight of it.
Tentatively, I lean down and brush my lips against his, tasting myself on him. His tongue darts out before gliding along mine, dragging another moan out of me.
“You love tasting yourself on me, don’t you, Wildflower?”
It’s a rhetorical question, but I answer with a breathy, “Yes.”
“Should I make you lick your arousal off my cock after I make you come on it?”
My legs tighten around him at the suggestion. Looking at him through my lashes, I pull my lower lip between my teeth before responding with a soft, “please.”
“Fuck, Azalea.” His head drops back on the armchair, and I see every drop of desire pour out of him. When he looks back at me, I feel my skin burn with need. “What are you doing to me?”
Braxton’s lips lazily drift to my neck while his fingers nimbly work to undo the laces of my dress before pulling it over my head. As soon as the fabric hits the floor I hear his soft gasp as he drinks me in. The look of ardent hunger glowing in his eyes is enough to make me detonate again.
“I think you’re my destruction and salvation,” he murmurs before dragging his lips along my collarbone.
Grasping his chin, I pull his face back to mine, letting our lips mold together once more before I pull away. “I think that is exactly what we are to each other.”
He had pushed my underwear to the side to feast on me before, but now he impatiently rips it from my body as if he can’t bear the thought of separating our bodies for even a moment after my declaration.
He moves as if he’s about to lift me, but I stop him.
“I’m taking us to my bedroom,” he supplies as an explanation, but I shake my head.
I’m fairly certain I’m going to combust if I don’t feel him fill every inch of me right now. I’m also not sure what his plan is to get me to his room, seeing as I’m now completely naked. The thought of wasting time to dress and undress all over again has me vehemently shaking my head.
“I need you inside me now.”
A coy smile brightens his face. “As you wish, Wildflower.” He whispers these words along my skin, and I feel goosebumps line the places his breath fans across me.
My anticipation grows as I feel him lift my hips, readying myself to feel him impale me in a pleasurably painful way, to break past my walls and fill me to the fullest. When he flips me around on his lap, I yelp in surprise before my body instinctively falls forward, and I brace my hands on his knees.
His lips delicately trace kisses along my spine before he pulls me toward him until my back is flush against his front, and he gently bites my shoulder.
“Braxton, what are you—Ah!” I don’t get to finish my question before I feel him notch himself at my entrance and start to push in at a painfully slow pace.
“You said to worship you. I plan on doing that from every angle that I can. Now, lean forward and brace yourself on my knees again.”
I do as I’m told and am rewarded by feeling him push further inside me.
The angle of this position feels completely different from how it felt to have him fill me in the library.
I gasp when I feel him roll his hips, going deeper into me than I thought possible.
I’m convinced Braxton has stretched me beyond my limits, but he remains undeterred as he pushes himself in a third time, and fourth, still unable to fully seat himself inside of me.
“Relax,” he coos, rubbing soothing circles up my back. “I can fit, Azalea, but you have to let me in.”
Though I would never admit it out loud, I love the nickname he calls me, but something about hearing my actual name fall from his lips has me doing exactly what he instructed and relaxing into his touch.
“That’s my girl.”
Braxton grips my hips firmly before simultaneously snapping his hips upward and pulling my hips down, filling me fully and hitting a spot that has me practically choking on my gasp.
“You feel divine. Like you were made for me and only me.”
Braxton drives more fervently into me as I tighten around him, basking in the delicious stretch each one of his thrusts causes. My second orgasm is building far faster than I ever thought possible.
“I’m yours, Braxton.” I don’t know where the confession came from, but I wouldn’t dream of taking it back, not even as I feel him momentarily stall beneath me.
Braxton pulls himself out of me, and ushers me to turn around so that I’m facing him before he sheaths himself once again. My mouth drops open as the change in positions sends new shockwaves through my body.
“Say it again.”
Braxton begins a steady pace as he waits for me to catch my breath.
A few curls fall in front of my face as I look down at him.
My hands fall to his shoulders, and when our eyes meet, everything about this position suddenly becomes more intimate, making it harder to repeat the truth I blurted.
Taking a deep breath, I softly brush my lips across his as I work up the courage to repeat myself.
“I’m yours,” I whisper, and in a starved frenzy Braxton snaps his hip harder against me, causing my head to fall back.
He wraps his fingers around my hair, forcing my gaze back down to him.
“I’m yours too, Azalea, always yours. Only yours.”
There’s a softness in his words that sends a new wave of warmth through me.
It only takes a few more long strokes before I’m tumbling over the edge, stars dancing in my vision as I cry out.
I feel myself tighten around him as my entire body explodes and spasms, and it doesn’t take long until Braxton spills inside of me.
I feel the mixture of our releases drip down my legs before he’s even pulled himself out.
Once he does, I whimper as I mourn the loss of feeling him settled inside of me.
Mourn the loss of the intimacy we just shared.
I’ve barely gotten my bearings when I feel him scoop me into his arms and drape my body over his as he lays us back so that we’re nestled together in the chair.
“What are you doing?” I wrap my arms around his neck and lay my head down on top of his chest.
Braxton sighs into the chaotic mess of curls on the top of my head. “I want this to last a little longer. It can’t be over yet.”
“You’re telling me that wasn’t enough for you?” I tease.
To my surprise, a chuckle rumbles deep in his chest. It sounds so light as it fills the space between us, and I can’t remember if I’ve ever heard him make such a genuinely happy sound.
It’s unbelievably contagious, and I soon find myself giggling along with him.
When the musical echo of our intertwining laughter fades, I can hear Braxton exhale out a breath filled with such relief that you would think we somehow cured the horrid curse we’re both trapped in.
“Do that again?”
“What?” I ask, propping my chin on his chest to stare at him.
“Laugh.” His face is a mixture of soft and serious.
I hum softly and run my fingers through his hair. He leans into my touch, letting his lips brush the inside of my palm as I pull my hand down his face. An odd sense of dread curdles my stomach, and I push myself up a little higher on his chest.
“I can’t laugh on command.”
“Then how do I get you to laugh again?” he questions thoughtfully. His eyes roam my face as if he’s trying to remember every detail of this moment, and something about it feels like a premature goodbye.
“You have to make me happy.” My words are a challenge, and I can tell by the shift in his expression, he understands exactly what I’m implying.
His lips quirk, but he doesn’t smile. “The multiple orgasms weren’t enough?” Although he says his words in jest, there’s a sadness lingering in his dark eyes.
“You got your laugh for that. But don’t worry, you’ll have plenty of opportunities to make me happy again.” My fingers trail down his chest, slowly, teasingly.
I think that maybe if I can bring us back to our fog of lust, the inevitable won’t happen. Maybe I can keep him from pushing me away.
“Azalea.”
The way he says my name all but screams the confirmation of my fears, and my heart cracks.
“I’m staying.” My eyes flick up to his, a stubborn intensity lining their amber hue.
“You’re not.”
“You don’t get to decide that.”
“Actually, I do. This is my castle.”
My nostrils flare, and I scramble off his body. His expression is shadowed, but I can still see when his mask of indifference slips into place. The Braxton who was just with me, the man who was holding me, is gone.
I hastily grab a blanket off the back of the chair and wrap it around my body, but he makes no effort to cover himself, showing he has nothing to hide.
No tricks up his sleeves. He only has the raw truth of who he is.
I open and close my mouth as I try and search for the question that will help me make sense of any of this.
I feel used.
I feel stupid.
I feel broken.
The only emotion I want to feel is the same one that seems to be evading me—rage.
“I expect you to have your bags packed by morning. Be in the foyer, I’ll be there to send you off.”
“Don’t bother,” I sneer, pulling the blanket tighter around me.
“I’ll be there.” There’s an earnestness in his eyes that has my face scrunching with confusion.
I don’t understand why he’s doing this, but I’m far too proud to ask him that question directly.
“I don’t want you there.” If he detects the lie in my words, he doesn’t point it out.
I turn and make my way to the door, focusing on keeping the splintered pieces of my heart from falling apart. I refuse to let him shatter me.
I should yell at him before I go. A few weeks ago, I would have.
I would have thought of every weapon I could use to my advantage in this study, but those urges don’t fill me anymore.
More so, the hatred that fueled those urges isn’t there anymore.
No matter how much I wish to deny it, I don’t hate Braxton.
In fact, I think I was coming dangerously close to feeling the opposite.
I curse myself for ever being so stupid as to fall for his ruse. Now I remember who he is, and more importantly, I remember why I could never, in this lifetime or the next, ever love him.