His smile was slow, predatory, absolutely devastating. "I thought you'd never ask."
He moved toward me with deliberate intent, closing the distance between us until I could feel the warmth radiating from his skin through the silk of his robes. This close, I could see the hunger in his eyes,the careful control he'd been maintaining all week finally beginning to slip its leash.
"The question is," he murmured, reaching up to trace the line of my jaw with gentle fingers, "are you ready to let me take what I want?"
The touch sent fire racing through my veins, pooling low in my belly as anticipation and desire merged into something almost overwhelming. This was what I'd been craving without fully understanding it—the chance to yield to someone strong enough to take control, skilled enough to know exactly what to do with my surrender.
"I've been ready since the moment I met you," I whispered back, leaning into his touch like a flower turning toward sunlight.
Something fierce and possessive flashed in his storm-grey eyes. "Then kneel for me, Rion."
The command hit me like lightning, sending shockwaves of need through every nerve. Not a request or suggestion, but an order spoken with absolute authority—the same voice that had commanded me to trust him by the stream, magnified and focused with deadly precision.
I dropped to my knees without hesitation, the marble cold against my skin through the thin silk of my ceremonial robes. But the discomfort meant nothing compared to the rightness that flooded through me, the absolute certainty that this was exactly where I belonged.
Looking up at him from this position—seeing the satisfaction that softened his features, the approval inhis gaze—I felt something deep in my chest click into place. Like a key turning in a lock I hadn't known existed.
"Perfect," he breathed, his hands moving to the clasps of his own robes. "You're absolutely perfect like this."
The midnight silk fell away like water, revealing the lean strength of his body in the moonlight. I'd seen hints of it during our night at the stream, but nothing had prepared me for the full reality of him naked and aroused, cock hard and proud from the dark nest of hair between his thighs.
My mouth watered at the sight, hunger rising so fast it made me dizzy. The memory of that single taste I'd stolen flooded back—salt and skin and masculine musk that had haunted my dreams for days. Now I would finally be allowed to worship him properly, to show him with lips and tongue just how completely he owned me.
"Tell me what you want," he said, threading his fingers through my hair with possessive gentleness.
"You," I said without hesitation. "All of you. However you want to give yourself to me."
His grip tightened in my hair, sending delicious shivers down my spine. "And what do you want to give me in return?"
"Everything." The word came out raw, desperate, completely honest. "My body, my devotion, my absolute surrender. Whatever you need, whatever makes you feel powerful and satisfied and complete."
The groan that escaped him was pure masculineappreciation. "Then show me," he commanded, guiding my face closer to his straining cock. "Worship me the way you've been dreaming about."
I needed no further encouragement. My lips parted eagerly, taking him into the heat of my mouth with a moan of pure satisfaction. The taste of him exploded across my tongue—salt and musk and something indefinably masculine that made my own arousal pulse desperately between my thighs.
He was burning hot against my lips, velvet over steel, and when I took him deeper, his sharp intake of breath sent pride surging through my chest. To know that I—kneeling, surrendering, submitting completely—could make this confident, beautiful man shake with need felt like the most intoxicating power imaginable.
"Gods, yes," he gasped, his hips jerking forward involuntarily as I found a rhythm that made his breathing stutter. "Just like that. You're so good at this, so perfect."
The praise went straight to my cock, making me throb with an ache so intense it bordered on pain. I could feel the thunder of his pulse against my tongue, could taste the salt-sweet evidence of his desire growing stronger with each desperate breath he drew.
I lost myself in the worship, in the joy of finally being allowed to serve him the way every instinct demanded. When I found the sensitive spot just beneath the crown and lavished attention there, he cursed—sharp and guttural—his fingers tightening reflexively in my hair.
The rough handling only drove me higher, made me take him deeper, faster, until tears streamed down my cheeks and my throat burned with the stretch. But it was perfect, exactly what I needed, exactly what we both craved.
"I'm close," he warned, trying to pull back, but I gripped his hips and held him in place. I wanted this—wanted to taste his release, to swallow every drop he gave me, to prove my devotion in the most intimate way possible.
When he finally let go—really let go—his climax hit my tongue in hot, desperate pulses while he shouted my name to the marble walls. I swallowed everything eagerly, the taste of him branding itself into my memory as something sacred, something that belonged to me alone.
As he stilled above me, chest heaving like he'd run for miles, I felt the bond snap fully into place between us with the force of lightning striking bone. Not the careful, controlled connection I'd heard described in theory, but something wild and consuming that rewrote every assumption I'd ever held about strength and submission.
I belonged to him now—completely, irrevocably, with a devotion that felt sacred.
And it was the most perfect feeling in the world.
Kaelen's legs gave out, and he dropped to his knees before me, his chest still heaving from the intensity of his release. For a moment we simply stared at each other, both of us marked by sweat and satisfaction,both of us changed by what had just passed between us.
Then his hands moved to the clasps of my ceremonial robes with deliberate purpose.
