Chapter 20 Kaitlyn
KAITLYN
The hot water hit Kaitlyn’s skin like a shock—then an immediate relief.
It sluiced over her head and shoulders, turning the streams running down her body a murky pink as it washed away the dried Kriver blood and sticky wine.
She stood under the rain of it, eyes closed, letting the heat seep into her bones—trying to thaw the last of the icy fear that had lodged in her chest.
Braze’s hands were on her immediately—not demanding, but purposeful.
He started with her shoulders, his big palms sliding over her skin, pushing the water and grime away.
His touch was firm and searching. He turned her gently, his hands running down her arms, her legs, her back—checking every inch.
He knelt before her, the water cascading over his broad back, and his fingers traced the line of her shins and her calves.
Then he found her ankle—the one the Kriver had grabbed.
His touch there changed—became infinitely careful. He cradled her foot in one big hand, his thumb brushing over the skin. A dark, bruise-like band circled her ankle, already purpling where the tentacle’s beak-mouth had squeezed. It throbbed dully under his ministrations.
“Does this hurt?” His voice was a low rumble, barely audible over the water.
“A little. It’s just sore. Nothing’s broken.” Kaitlyn’s voice still sounded a little shaky in her own ears.
Bending, Braze pressed his lips to the mark, a brief, gentle kiss that felt like a vow. Never again—I’ll never let anything hurt you again, she could almost hear him saying.
Then his hands continued their journey, washing her other leg, his movements methodical and respectful. He was avoiding the places that would make this something else. He was being her protector—her servant—checking for wounds or injuries.
But the shock Kaitlyn had felt after the attack was receding—burned away by the hot water and the sheer, solid reality of her Protector kneeling at her feet.
The terror was morphing into a different kind of ache—a deep, hollow need to feel alive.
To feel anything but the cold ghost of death that had brushed so close to her she could feel its icy breath on her cheek.
Braze looked up and his eyes met hers. They were dark pools of hunger, filled with devotion so fierce it stole her breath. It touched something deep inside her—a place that was still raw and trembling.
“Braze,” she said, her voice stronger now.
“Mistress?” He arched an eyebrow.
“I want you to wash me…everywhere.” Her heart was pounding but she made her voice firm.
His big body went very still and both eyebrows were lifted now.
“Everywhere, Mistress?”
“Yes. Everywhere.”
Kaitlyn didn’t look away from his intense gaze. Instead, she pushed her shoulders back, thrusting her bare breasts out towards him, offering them. The water beaded on her nipples, tightening them into aching points.
“Everywhere,” she repeated.
A low growl vibrated in Braze’s deep chest and his eyes were suddenly lazy with lust.
“As my Mistress commands,” he rumbled.
He stood to his full height, towering over her. For a second, she was struck by it—by the sheer, brutal power of him. He was so big—so strong and muscular, he could break her in half without even trying. But she didn’t fear him—she would never fear him after what he had done tonight.
This was a man who was willing to die for her—he would always keep her safe.
Braze turned her so her back was pressed against the solid wall of his chest. She could feel the heat of his big body, even through the steaming water. He filled his hands with slick, fragrant soap and reached around her to cup her bare breasts, his palms covering them completely.
“Gods, I love your tits,” he growled into her ear, his voice rough with desire. “So full…love how they fill my hands.”
He massaged them, his thumbs circling her nipples, tugging and rolling the sensitive peaks until sharp shocks of pleasure arrowed straight down her belly to the V between her legs. Kaitlyn gasped, her head falling back against his shoulder as her hips rolled in helpless little circles.
“So perfect. So fucking sweet,” he went on, still growling in her ear. “I’ve dreamed about sucking these, Mistress—dreamed of making you moan for me.”
“You…you did? You dreamed of me? Fantasized about…about this?” Kaitlyn moaned.
“Fuck, yes! From the first minute I met you I’ve wanted to worship you—to give you pleasure, Mistress.”
His hot, dirty words poured over her like the water, washing away the last fragments of the terror she’d felt when the Kriver attacked. Kaitlyn didn’t care anymore that what they were doing was violating protocol—being touched like this by her Protector made her feel alive. She needed this.
Braze’s big, soapy hands slid down her sides, over the curve of her hips, and cupped her ass. He kneaded the flesh, growling in pleasure.
“And this ass,” he groaned, squeezing. “I’ve always wanted to fill my hands with this luscious ass.”
“It…it’s too big,” Kaitlyn protested, panting. “I mean, that’s what my ex used to say,” she added breathlessly.
“Your ex-mate was a fucking idiot,” Braze growled. “Your sweet, luscious ass is fucking perfect. Don’t you ever say it’s too big—it’s just right for my hands. For holding onto while I…”
He didn’t finish, but the image was clear. It formed in Kaitlyn’s mind, fully formed and extremely vivid.
Perfect for holding on while he takes me from behind—that’s what he means, whispered a naughty little voice in her head and the scene unfolded in her mind’s eye.
She saw herself bent over the edge of the massive bed or braced against this very shower wall…saw her Protector’s big hands gripping her hips and ass just like this, his long fingers digging into the flesh he loved so much, holding her steady as he positioned himself behind her.
She could almost feel the thick, blunt head of his cock nudging against her entrance, pressing into her wet, willing pussy. He’d push inside in one long, devastating stroke that would steal her breath away, filling her completely and stretching her so perfectly it bordered on pain.
And then he’d move—pulling back and slamming home—setting a ruthless, pounding rhythm that would shake her entire body, the slap of his skin against hers echoing in the steamy room.
He’d fuck her deep and hard, claiming her…
making her his in the most primal way possible.
And she’d take every inch, crying out his name, begging for more…
The fantasy was so intense, so real, that her pussy felt wetter than ever.
She moaned, pushing back against the big Kindred, feeling the hard, relentless pressure of his cock, still trapped by his trousers and the cock ring, nudging against the small of her back.
It was a cruel tease—a promise of what they couldn't have because surely that would be going too far. But God, she wanted it—wanted him.
“Oh, God—don’t stop!” she begged.
“I won’t, baby.”
His big hands moved to her belly, smoothing over the roundness there. She tensed instinctively.
“Don’t. I…I’m too soft,” she murmured, the old insecurity rising inside her.
His hand stilled…then he splayed his fingers wide, pressing his palms flat against her belly.
“There’s no such thing as too soft, Kaitlyn. You’re just fucking right, baby. Every part of you.”
Baby. The endearment, mixed with her name, nearly unraveled her completely. Kaitlyn leaned back against him, purring contentment, her insecurities forgotten. She remembered again that he’d called her an “Elite” and swore she was the type of woman all Kindred wanted.
She was his fantasy—she loved that idea.
Braze’s hand drifted lower, through the wet curls at the apex of her thighs. He cupped her entire pussy in his big hand and massaged lightly. His lips brushed her ear.
“Do you want me to wash you here, Mistress?” His voice was pure sin. “Should I wash your soft little pussy and make you moan some more?”
A shudder wracked her.
“Yes,” she breathed. “Wash me there. I want you to.”
Braze rumbled his approval—a dark, satisfied sound. He spread her open, exposing her completely to the water and his touch. Long fingers stroked her slippery inner lips, already swollen and eager for him. His touch was knowing—completely unerring.
Unlike Mark, who’d always fumbled, rubbing uselessly to one side or the other, Braze found her clit immediately, as if drawn by a magnet.
Kaitlyn moaned and bucked against him as he circled the aching little button with the pad of one finger using a perfect, maddening pressure—not too rough and not too light.
He seemed to know exactly how a woman’s body needed to be touched—something her ex had never learned despite years of marriage.
“Oh, God!” Kaitlyn cried, her hips rocking, grinding herself against his hand. “Oh, Braze, that feels so good!”
“So responsive,” he whispered, his breath hot on her neck. “So wet for me already. Can I wash inside you, Mistress? Do I have your permission to fingerfuck your hot little cunt?”
The filthy words, spoken in that deep, hungry growl, pushed her right to the edge.
“Yes! Do it, Braze. Wash inside me!” she heard herself begging.
“That’s what I wanted to hear,” he rumbled.
As he spoke, two long, thick fingers slid into her, filling her utterly. He pumped them slowly…deeply…the heel of his hand keeping up a relentless, circling pressure on her clit.
The dual sensation of being penetrated and stimulated at the same time was overwhelming. Kaitlyn found she was panting—her fingers scrabbling against the wet marble wall for purchase.
And all the while, Braze—who was usually so taciturn and silent—was talking to her, his voice a constant, dirty prayer pouring into her ear.
“That’s it, sweetheart. Take my fingers,” he growled, his voice a rough vibration against her neck as his fingers curled deep inside her. “Nice and deep—open up for me.”
Kaitlyn gasped—a sharp, needy sound in her own ears.
“Braze…!” she moaned.
His name was a plea and a prayer. She pushed back against him, trying to take him deeper, her own hips moving in a frantic rhythm against his hand.
“Your soft little cunt is so tight, so perfect,” he whispered, his lips brushing her ear. He added a third finger, stretching her exquisitely, and she cried out, her nails scraping the marble. “I’ve wanted this…wanted you since the first time I saw you, baby.”
“You have me,” she panted, the words tumbling out in a breathless rush. Her head lolled back on his shoulder. “God, you have me…I’m so close.”
“I know you are, Mistress. You’re so fucking beautiful like this.” His praise was a dark rumble in her ear as his thumb pressed against her clit, circling with pinpoint precision. “Let go for me, baby. Come for me. I need to feel you shake apart in my arms.”
“I’m close…I’m so close…” she moaned, the spring in her belly winding impossibly tight. Her entire world had narrowed to the heat of his chest against her back…the scent of soap and steam…and the devastating skill of his hand between her legs as he rumbled those sweet, dirty words into her ear.
“I love how you get so wet for me.” He pumped his fingers slowly, letting her feel every deliberate stroke—every movement. “My good girl. My perfect Mistress.”
That did it. The combination of praise and his knowing touch shredded Kaitlyn’s last shred of control.
“Braze—I’m coming!” she moaned as the orgasm tore through her—a white-hot detonation that shattered her thoughts into sparks. She cried out, her hips bucking, her body shaking and helpless in the circle of his arms. Her knees buckled—completely useless—and she started to go down.
Braze’s arm banded around her waist, pulling her back against him, holding her upright as the waves of pleasure crashed through her.
“Easy, Mistress,” he murmured into her ear, his voice thick with satisfaction and care. His fingers were still inside her, gentling now, drawing out the last pulses of devastating pleasure. “It’s all right. I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.”
Kaitlyn went boneless against him, spent and trembling, the water washing over them both. She felt clean and safe. The only marks left on her were the one on her ankle, and the new, searing brand of Braze’s possession on her soul.
She never wanted this night with her Protector to end.