Chapter 10 Braze
brAZE
The knock at the door felt like a personal insult.
Braze had to force himself to lift his head from Kaitlyn’s lap, the warmth of her thigh imprinted on his cheek.
He didn’t want to fucking move. For a few stolen minutes, with her fingers carding through his hair, the world had narrowed to a single, perfect point—her touch and his submission.
Mistress. The word was becoming a truth in his gut, sweet and solid. He loved it—loved the way it made the constant tension in his shoulders ease and loved the low rumble of contentment it pulled from his chest.
Of course, it also made the relentless ache in his cock even worse—a throbbing counterpoint to the peace he felt when she touched him. Helping her get dressed for the feast was just going to be another form of exquisite torture.
In the bedroom, she placed the gown carefully on the vast bed, then stood with her back to him. He could see the tension in her shoulders, the slight hunch as she hugged herself.
“Are you all right, Mistress?” he asked, his voice softer than he intended.
“I…I’m fine.” She glanced over her shoulder, a shy look in her lovely eyes that said she was anything but “fine.”
“What’s wrong?” Braze asked, frowning. “Don’t you want me to help you undress? I’m pretty sure the Empress will expect your ‘husband’ to help you.”
“I guess you’re right,” she said, and gave a self-deprecating little laugh. “I guess I’m just nervous to be all the way naked in front of you.”
“Why would you be?” he asked, honestly mystified. A cold thread of worry wormed its way through the heat in his veins. “You don’t think…you’re not afraid I’ll attack you, are you? I mean, I know I should have asked permission in the throne room, but I would never—”
“No, no,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “I know you’d never hurt me, Braze. I’m just nervous because you’re so big and muscular and in such good shape and I’m, well…I could stand to lose some weight. That’s what my ex-husband always said, anyway,” she added, looking down.
Immediate, white-hot fury at her ex-mate burned through Braze’s body.
“Your ex-mate sounds like an asshole,” he growled. “Didn’t he realize that you’re an Elite—a woman the Goddess herself has blessed with extra generous curves?”
“An Elite? Is that a Kindred thing?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.
“You could say that.” Braze nodded firmly, taking a step closer. He needed to correct this poison her ex-mate had poured into her heart. “We fucking love Elites—curvy women are the Kindred ideal,” he told her.
“They are?” She turned to face him fully now, and he saw the genuine uncertainty on her face. It made his heart twist in his chest—what kind of things had that fucker told her? Whatever it was, it must have been bad.
“Yeah, they are, Mistress,” he said, his voice dropping to a low, intense rumble. “Now will you let me help you get undressed and then put you into that slinky new gown the Mistress of the Wardrobe gave you to wear?”
“Oh—of course.”
He moved behind her again, his fingers finding the buttons of her simple gown. Each button he freed revealed more of her beautiful body and he wanted to see it all.
The curve of her spine…the soft swell of her hips beneath the fabric…
the delicate scent of her skin—everything about her drew him—made him want her more.
When the last button was undone, he gently pushed the gown from her shoulders.
It slid down her arms and pooled at her feet in a soft heap of fabric.
Kaitlyn turned and stood before him, completely naked. But she immediately crossed her arms over her breasts, trying to shrink in on herself.
“Let me see you,” he said, the command gentle but undeniable. When she still hesitated he reminded her, “A wife—especially a dominant wife—wouldn’t be ashamed for her husband to see her body.”
“I guess you’re right.”
After a heartbeat’s hesitation, she took a deep breath and let her arms fall to her sides. Straightening up, she lifted her chin—an invitation to look.
Braze looked his fill. He let himself linger on her broad hips and luscious thick thighs and then allowed his gaze to travel to the dark, silky patch of curls between them, up over the soft mound of her belly.
There were stretch marks there—proof of her fertility which he found beautiful.
He lingered again on the lush, heavy weight of her breasts with their dusky pink nipples drawn tight and then moved to the vulnerable line of her throat and the elegant, mature beauty of her face.
She wasn’t too skinny like a lot of Earth women.
Braze had seen human porn and a lot of it involved women who looked almost childish—too thin with hardly any breasts and shaved pubic hair.
Such images repelled him—he wanted a real woman—one who had lived and loved and had the laugh-lines around her mouth and the corners of her eyes to prove it.
As he looked at Kaitlyn, he couldn’t keep the raw, hungry lust from his expression. It felt like his blood was surging.
“Fucking gorgeous,” he growled, and his voice came out hoarse—scraped raw by the sight of her. Truly, she had been made in the image of the Goddess—the original Mother of All Life, he thought.
Kaitlyn gave a little, breathless laugh and looked down, a faint smile touching her lips.
“Well, at least I can tell you’re telling the truth,” she said, and nodded pointedly at his groin, where his erection was straining blatantly against the thin silk panel, making an unmistakable tent in the maroon fabric.
Braze coughed, a flush of heat rising up his neck.
“Yeah, well…I can’t fucking help getting hard when I’m around you. Sorry.”
“There’s no need to apologize,” she assured him, and she sounded like she meant it. “It’s kind of flattering, actually.”
Braze wasn’t sure what to say to that—so she liked it that looking at her made him hard? The thought sent another jolt of pure desire straight to his already-throbbing cock.
“Let’s just get you into that gown,” he managed, his voice coming out tight. “The servant is waiting, and I have to get dressed too.”
“Oh, of course.”
She stood still as he lifted the heavy, cool fabric of the starry gown and draped it over her head.
He guided her arms through the sleeves and then turned her gently to fasten the low back.
His fingertips skimmed the bare skin of her spine as he worked the intricate silver clasps, and she shivered under his touch.
He wished fiercely that he could bend and press his lips to the vulnerable nape of her neck…
to taste the salt of her skin…to mark her as his.
Then he remembered their unseen audience, the Empress. If she was watching, she’d expect affection. More than affection—heat. They had to give a good performance. When he looked at it that way, it would be wrong not to kiss her.
Decision made, he swept the heavy fall of her black and silver hair over one shoulder, baring the elegant line of her neck. He leaned in and placed a hot, open-mouthed kiss on the tender side of her throat, letting his lips linger…feeling her pulse jump wildly against them.
Kaitlyn gave a little gasp but didn’t pull away.
“You look beautiful in that gown, wife,” he growled softly against her ear, his breath stirring the fine hairs at her nape.
She shivered again—a full-body tremor as though his words overcame her with some emotion—and then leaned back against him, just for a second. Her body felt soft and pliant against his rigid frame.
“Thank you, husband,” she murmured. “But you haven’t seen the front of it yet.”
She pulled away and turned to face him. The gown was a masterpiece of seduction.
Her full breasts were proudly displayed through the circular cut-outs, her nipples tight and visible.
The high slit in the front of the skirt fell open, revealing the entire length of her long legs and the shadowed apex of her thighs.
“Oh, I can’t forget the panties that go with this,” she remarked, looking down at herself and blushing again. “It’s already indecent enough as it is.”
She retrieved the tiny scrap of matching blue lace from the bed. As she started to step into them, Braze stopped her with a hand on her wrist.
“Let me, Mistress,” he said.
“Oh… all right.” She handed him the panties, her blush deepening.
He went to his knees before her, the position feeling more natural, more right than ever.
He held the lace open and helped her step into each leg, his fingers brushing her calves…
her ankles. Slowly, he drew the garment up, his knuckles grazing the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, settling the waistband snugly around her hips.
He couldn’t help but admire the way the lace molded to her gorgeous body…
the fullness of her hips…the strong, thick thighs he knew could probably grip him like a vise if she ever wanted to.
And he loved the way the vertical opening in the front of the panties framed the sweet, swollen slit of her pussy, offering a tantalizing glimpse of her feminine desire.
Goddess, can a male die of being hard for too long? he wondered. Because the pressure in his groin was becoming unbearable—a tight, urgent need that refused to go away.
On impulse, he looked up at her, meeting her gaze.
“Can I kiss you, Mistress? Kiss your panties, I mean?” he asked, his voice coming out hoarse with desire.
She bit her lower lip, her eyes going wide.
“You want to…?”
“Kiss your panties,” he repeated. “It’s something the Mistresses of Yonnie Six have their bodyslaves do. I, uh, thought it would look good for the Empress if she’s watching,” he added, hoping she wouldn’t think he was overstepping.
“Oh, well in that case—of course. I guess it would be all right,” she agreed, her cheeks going pink. “We do have to put on a good show, after all.”