Chapter 10 Braze #2
Braze didn’t need further invitation. He pressed forward, nuzzling his cheek against the soft lace covering her mound. He inhaled deeply, and the scent that filled his senses—hot, sweet, uniquely feminine, and most of all hers—made his head swim and his cock jerk painfully.
He could have spent hours with his face between her thighs, but he knew they didn’t have the time.
So he pressed a firm, lingering kiss to the top of her mound, right over the lace.
It wasn’t where he really wanted to kiss—which was lower, on the hot little bud of her clit he could see peeking from between her outer lips. But he didn’t want to push too far.
Later, he promised himself. Hopefully later she’ll let me taste her.
Above him, Kaitlyn sighed—a soft, shuddering sound—and her fingers slid restlessly through his hair. When he finally looked up, her eyes were half-lidded and dark with a desire that mirrored his own.
“Thank you, Braze—that was very sweet,” she murmured, her voice husky. “But now we’d better work on getting you dressed. I’d hate to show up late to the feast.”
“Of course,” he growled, and rose reluctantly to his feet, every movement a protest. The most difficult part of the night was yet to come and he knew it.
The silence in the bedroom felt thick—charged with everything they weren’t saying—but Braze tried to ignore it.
He toed off his heavy boots—the thud of each one hitting the dark marble floor sounding unnaturally loud.
Then he reached for the tie at his waist holding up the ridiculous silk panel, but the moment his fingers dipped near his groin, a sharp, biting zap shot from the manacles. A jolt of pain lanced up his arms.
“Fuck!” he snarled under his breath, jerking his hands back. The energy field hummed menacingly around his wrists, warning him that he’d gone too far, though he hadn’t even come close to touching his shaft.
“Oh, I never should have let the Mistress of the Wardrobe make me put those on you! Let me try to take them off,” Kaitlyn exclaimed.
She reached for his wrists, but Braze drew back.
“And what are we going to tell the Empress if she asks why I’m the only male not wearing non-con manacles?” he asked. “Believe me, Mistress, I want them off as much as you do—more, even. But I don’t want to risk the mission.”
Kaitlyn froze for a moment, nibbling her bottom lip uncertainly. At last, she nodded.
“You’re right. They have to stay on. Which means I’ll have to do most of this for you—do you mind?”
Braze shook his head.
“I’m yours, Mistress,” he told her, his voice coming out low and gravely. “Do what you want with me.”
Kaitlyn looked up and met his eyes…what she saw there must have shaken her.
“You know, you don’t have to talk like that,” she said softly. “The Mistress of the Wardrobe said there weren’t any listening devices in here. It’s enough to just act the parts, don’t you think?”
“Better safe than sorry,” Braze pointed out. “Who knows what kind of tech they have in here. Besides…it helps me to play the part if I play it all the way, you know?”
She nodded.
“Yes, I can see where that would be true. All right then, you’re mine—to do with as I choose.”
As she spoke, she reached up to cup his cheek in one soft, small hand. Braze wanted to fucking melt for her, but he contented himself with holding her eyes with his own and leaning into her palm—offering his surrender without saying a word this time.
The moment might have lasted forever…or even ended in a kiss—but there was a timid rapping at the suite door and the servant called,
“The Feast of the New Moon begins soon, my Lady!”
They both sighed at the same time, and it felt to Braze like some kind of spell had been broken.
“Here—let me get you out of this thing,” Kaitlyn said briskly.
She stepped closer, her scent teasing him, and reached down.
Her fingers, deft and sure, found the simple knot at his waist and loosened it.
The long panels of fabric—the only thing that had offered even a whisper of modesty—fell away, pooling around his feet on the cold stone.
Braze stood before her, completely naked and it was Kaitlyn’s turn to look.
The air felt cool on his feverish skin, but it did nothing to quell the heat radiating from his rigid cock, which jutted out from his body, flushed and leaking with need.
He was proud of his body…but he couldn’t help remembering being sold at the Flesh Auction—being put on display just like this for all the Yonnie Six buyers to see and admire.
He could feel Kaitlyn’s gaze like a physical touch, sliding away from his groin, then darting back again.
He didn’t need his Kindred senses to know her breath had caught in her throat—he could hear the soft, quick puff of air.
But his sensitive hearing could also detect the rapid, frantic flutter of her heartbeat like a drumbeat in the quiet room, syncing with the pounding pulse in his own ears.
This wasn’t right, Braze told himself. He was too attuned to her—a dangerous level of awareness for a Protector—but he couldn’t seem to dial it back. Not now…not ever.
After a long moment, Kaitlyn seemed to unfreeze.
“Well now, let’s get these on you,” she said, her voice striving for a businesslike tone and failing miserably. It came out breathy and a little unsteady instead.
She bent to pick up the crotchless leather trousers—the material supple and black as sin—and held them out to him.
Feeling slightly ridiculous, Braze stepped into them when she held them open, lifting one foot, then the other. She pulled them up his legs, her knuckles brushing against his calves and thighs, and then, when he was sure the non-con manacles weren’t going to shock him, he took over.
The leather was cool at first, then quickly warmed, molding to him like a second skin as he tugged the crotchless trousers up over his hips.
He took his hands away then and let Kaitlyn fasten them around his waist. They fit perfectly, emphasizing the muscular curve of his ass and the thick columns of his thighs, while leaving his cock and balls completely vulnerable and exposed to the cool air.
“Feel like a fucking idiot,” he growled, looking down at himself. His shaft looked obscene, jutting proudly from the opening in the leather. “Blowin’ in the fucking wind like this.”
“Well, you won’t be completely bare for long—I still have to put the, uh, ring on you,” Kaitlyn reminded him, her cheeks pink.
She picked up the cock ring from the bed, the metal gleaming dully in the crystal light. She started to bend, then apparently changed her mind and sat on the edge of the vast mattress, the starry blue gown rustling.
“Here—I think I can reach you better this way—come a little closer.”
He took a step forward, until he was standing directly before her, his exposed cock level with her face. The intimacy of the position made his gut tight with need, which he tried to ignore.
Kaitlyn unfastened the buckle on the leather strap of the ring, her fingers trembling slightly. She slipped the cool metal circle around the base of his shaft, just above his knot. She tried to position it, frowning in concentration, her soft lips pursed.
“Should it go above or below the knot?” she muttered to herself, more thinking aloud than asking.
“Below,” he answered instantly, the word out before he could stop it. On Yonnie Six, his old Mistress had always insisted that a cock ring must sit below the prominent ridge of his knot, to emphasize its swell—to make it look even bigger.
The memory was a cold splash of reality, but it was instantly incinerated by the feeling of her fingers adjusting the ring, her knuckles brushing the ultra-sensitive skin of his balls.
Braze bit back a groan. Her touch was fucking killing him—sending bolts of pure, undiluted pleasure straight up his spine.
She tried again, sliding the ring down another fraction of an inch until it settled in the groove just beneath the swollen bulge.
“That’s not too tight, is it?” she asked anxiously, looking up at him, her eyes wide and dark with concern.
He shook his head, his throat too tight for words for a second. The metal and leather band was snug, unyielding—a constant, firm pressure that somehow made his erection feel even more immense—more urgent.
“No, Mistress…that’s fine,” he managed to get out at last.
She hesitated, her gaze dropping back to his imprisoned length.
“But…will it hurt you? To be hard for so long, I mean?”
Braze shook his head again.
“I should be fine.”
It was mostly true. Kindred physiology was built for endurance, but ‘fine’ didn’t cover the aching, desperate need coiling in his gut.
He couldn’t help looking down at her—at the breathtaking picture she made—sitting before him, her gorgeous breasts spilling from the cut-outs of her gown and her delicate hands cradling the most intimate part of him.
The contrast of her softness against his brutal hardness—her gentle care against his raw need—was the most erotic thing he’d ever experienced.
Then she did something that stopped his heart.
Leaning forward, her eyes locked with his, she placed a soft, open-mouthed kiss right over the broad crown of his cock.
The sensation was electric—a white-hot brand of pure pleasure. Her lips were so soft, so warm. He felt his shaft surge violently against the constricting ring, a fresh bead of pre-cum welling up where her lips were pressed. A ragged groan was torn from his chest.
“Gods, Mistress! What are you doing? That would have made me come if I didn’t have this fuckin’ ring on!” he growled desperately.
She leaned back, giving him a mysterious, knowing smile that sent another jolt straight to his balls.
“Maybe that’s the idea. And anyway, can’t a wife kiss her husband?”
Feeling dazed—his world narrowed to the throbbing point where her lips had touched—Braze could only nod. The logic of the performance and the truth of his own desire fused into one undeniable command.
“You can kiss me anywhere you fucking want to,” he told her.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said lightly, as if they were discussing the weather.
She rose from the bed in a swirl of dark blue fabric and glittering stars and—before he could quite process what was happening—her hand closed around him.
Not on the shaft, but around the base—her fingers curling firmly around the ring itself, claiming it—claiming him.
Then she turned and began to walk, leading him by his cock out of the bedroom.
Braze stumbled after her, a low growl or pure need rumbling in his chest. Every step was a cascade of sensation—the gentle, inexorable tug on the most sensitive part of his body…the sway of her full hips and lush behind ahead of him…the scent of her arousal mingling with his own in the air.
His whole body felt like it had been dipped in molten flame—every nerve ending begging for release. The leather of his trousers creaked with his movements and the cool air of the sitting room washing over his exposed flesh, doing nothing to cool the inferno.
She let go only as they reached the main door of the suite, releasing her grip on the metal and leather ring. The sudden absence of her guiding touch left him feeling untethered…and dizzy with unmet need.
Goddess of All Life, he thought, staring at the obsidian door as Kaitlyn smoothed her gown and took a steadying breath. How in the Seven Hells am I possibly going to get through this feast?
He had no fucking idea.