It was a biological fact, but right now, it felt like a curse. The capacity for endless arousal meant endless frustration unless it was directed toward pleasing a woman.
“Mmm, that’s good.” Her thumb swiped over the leaking tip, spreading the slippery moisture. “But it still seems like you need a release. And a reward for being so brave tonight when every other man in the place was absolutely useless.”
She leaned forward, her pink tongue darting out to swirl around the aching, sensitive head of his cock.
Fire lanced through Braze’s groin at the soft, sweet wetness of her tongue. But before she could take him into her mouth, his hand shot out, landing gently but firmly on her shoulder to stop her.
She pulled back, looking up at him, her eyes wide and quizzical.
“What is it? Don’t you want me to suck you? I’ve never heard of a man turning down a blow job before.”
“The pleasure of your mouth is more than I deserve,” Braze told her hoarsely. “I was just doing my duty tonight. But if you really want to reward me…” He drew in a shaky breath, his heart hammering against his ribs. “Let me be of service to you tonight.”
“Of service?” She frowned, uncertainty clouding her features as he drew her up by her shoulders until she was standing before him, water cascading down her glorious curves. “What does that mean?”
“Let me show you,” he murmured, hoping she would agree.
She studied his face for a long moment, then nodded slowly. “All right—I trust you. You can, er, service me if you want to, Braze.”
“I do,” he said, the intensity in his voice startling even him. “So much.”
He turned off the shower, grabbed a large, plush towel and began to dry her with meticulous care, starting with her face, moving down her neck, over her shoulders and breasts—lingering just enough to draw a soft sigh—and then down the length of her body.
He knelt to dry her legs and feet, his movements slow and worshipful. This was his Mistress—his goddess. He wanted to honor her. Only when she was completely dry did he briskly towel himself off. He wrapped her in another dry towel, tucking it securely around her to ensure she was warm.
Then he lifted her into his arms, cradling her close. She was a warm, fragrant weight against his chest and he carried her out of the steamy bathing chamber and into the opulent bed chamber, laying her down gently on the edge of the massive, plush mattress so her legs hung over the side.
He saw the question in her eyes as he grabbed a thick pillow from the bed and placed it on the floor between her spread thighs. Then he sank down onto it, his knees finding the soft cushion, putting him exactly where he longed to be—at her feet, between her legs, his face level with her sweet little pussy.
When he leaned forward, letting his hot breath wash over her damp curls, she seemed to understand. She half-sat up, propping herself on her elbows, and looked down at him. Not with desire, but with something akin to fear and disbelief.
“Wait… is this what you mean by ‘being of service?’ You want to…”
“I want to eat your sweet little pussy until you fucking come all over my face, Mistress.”
He couldn’t keep the raw need—the sheer desperate want—out of his voice. It wasn’t just desire. All Kindred males had a biological imperative to taste the woman they loved…to drink her honey…to bond through oral intimacy. Since he’d become so attuned to Kaitlyn, that need had metastasized into a physical ache—a hollow hunger in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t just want to eat her pussy—he needed it with every fiber of his being. It was a compulsion as vital as breathing.
But Kaitlyn seemed to have a hard time believing he really meant it.
“But…” She shook her head, her cheeks flushing. “Are you sure? I mean, my ex—he never wanted to, you know, go down on me. He said it was…um, unpleasant.”
A low, possessive growl rumbled in Braze’s chest.
“I thought we already established that your ex-mate was a fucking idiot,” he snarled, the hunger inside him sharpening to a painful edge. “How could he have such a beautiful, curvy, mature Elite and not want to taste your pussy? To drink your honey?” He forced his voice to drop, into a tone of pleading reverence. “Forget about him, Mistress. Please. Just let me be of service to you tonight. That’s all I want. If you want to reward me for saving you… let me taste you. Let me have that.”
She studied his face, her eyes searching his for any hint of reluctance or duty. She found none—only stark, undeniable hunger.
“You really want to do this, don’t you?”
“More than you fucking know,” he growled, the ache inside him swelling exponentially. He could feel the radiant heat of her soft little pussy against his cheek, and he could smell her—that rich, sweet, utterly feminine scent of her desire. It made his head spin.
Gods, how he wanted her! Wanted to service her…to please her with his tongue until she came apart for him…until she let him drink her sweet honey right from the source.
At last, she nodded, a slow, tentative movement.
“Well… if you really want to…”
“I do,” he interrupted, his voice fervent. He caught her eyes with his, holding her gaze. “Watch me, Mistress. And I’ll prove it.”
