“I fucking love it.” He leaned in, his lips brushing her ear. “Order me to do anything, Mistress. Anything at all.”
Kaitlyn nibbled her lower lip, a flutter of uncertainty mixing with the growing heat inside her. Did he really mean it? Was this some deeply ingrained part of him—this need to submit, to serve? The intensity of his focus the night before suggested it was. But it was so foreign, so opposite to every other man she’d ever known.
“But…” she protested softly, her sense of fairness rising. “I can’t order you to taste me again so soon. You never even came last night—it isn’t fair.”
A slow, wicked smile touched his lips.
“Oh, I came. Multiple times.”
She stared at him in surprise.
“What? But I never even touched you.”
“I didn’t touch myself either,” he admitted. “But feeling you come in my mouth was enough. Tasting you…hearing you scream my name…feeling you pull my hair and grind against my mouth—it set me off every single time.”
Kaitlyn looked at him with wide eyes.
“I’ve never heard of a man who could come without, er, stimulation.”
He clearly saw her disbelief because his expression softened into something unbearably earnest.
“If you only knew how long I’ve been waiting to taste you—how I’ve longed to be of service to you—you wouldn’t doubt me.”
He leaned over then, capturing one of her nipples in his mouth.
“Oh, Braze!” she gasped, but didn’t try to stop him.
Cupping her breast in one big hand, he sucked slowly…deeply…sending a jolt of pleasure straight to her already-throbbing pussy. Then he let her nipple slip from his lips and met her eyes, his gaze searing.
“Now go on—order me to service you. Order me to do anything, and I’ll do it. I want to do it. I want to serve you, Mistress. Please.”
23
KAITLYN
Kaitlyn nibbled her lower lip, a flutter of uncertainty mixing with the growing heat inside her. The intensity in her Protector’s golden eyes was undeniable—he meant it. He wanted her to command him.
Her gaze dropped from his eyes to his wrists and the sleek, unyielding manacles that prevented him from touching himself. They had hooks on them, right where the chain that joined them fastened if she ever wanted to put his hands behind his back.
Suddenly, a bold, wicked idea crystallized in her head.
“Anything?” she repeated, her voice gaining a new, speculative edge.
“Anything,” he vowed, the word a rumbling promise.
She shifted, sitting up at last.
“Then move to the center of the bed. On your back and put your hands up on either side of your head,” she ordered.
A flicker of surprise, then pure, undiluted heat flashed in Braze’s golden eyes. Without a word, he obeyed, stretching out on his back, his gaze locked on hers. The morning light played over the powerful landscape of his big body—his cock already hard and eager against his stomach.
Kaitlyn moved over him, kneeling beside his hip. She took his right wrist, the cool metal of the manacle familiar under her fingers. She guided his arm up and out to the side. There was a discreet, sturdy ring of polished metal built into the massive headboard, clearly intended for securing canopies or… other things.
She attached the cuff to the ring. It wasn’t a lock, but the tension and angle would hold his arm firmly in place unless he exerted brutal force to free himself.
She repeated the process with his left wrist, spreading his arms wide, leaving him open…exposed…and beautifully vulnerable before her.
Braze’s chest rose and fell in a deep, controlled rhythm but his eyes were lazy with lust. The position pulled the muscles of his chest and abdomen taut, showcasing every powerful line. The manacles gleamed dully against his skin.
