Page 36 of Bought by the Broken Beast
The armor I wear, the symbol of my restored station, feels like a barrier between us. I unbuckle the heavy clasps, letting the ornate chestplate fall to the floor with a heavy clang. I shed the rest of it, piece by piece, until I stand before her in nothing but my breeches, my scars and my fur and my splintered horn laid bare in the soft candlelight.
“Let me,” she whispers, her fingers moving to the intricate fastenings of her own gown.
I watch, transfixed, as she slowly, deliberately, unveils herself for me. The silver gown pools at her feet, leaving her in a thin, silk shift that does little to hide the perfect, gentle curves of her body. She is a goddess, a creature of impossible beauty, and she is mine.
I kneel before her, an act of worship, of supplication. I take her hand in mine and press a kiss to her palm, to the ink-stained finger that wrote my salvation. I kiss her wrist, the delicate blue veins that pulse with the lifeblood of my own heart. I trail my lips up her arm, over her shoulder, to the soft, fragrant hollow of her neck. She shudders, a small, contented sigh escaping her lips.
My hands find the hem of her shift, and I slowly, reverently, push it upward, my lips following the path of my hands, kissing every inch of newly exposed skin. Her stomach, her ribs, the soft, perfect swell of her breasts. Her nipples are tight, hard pebbles, and I take one into my mouth, sucking gently. She cries out, asharp, sweet sound, her fingers tangling in my hair, holding me to her.
I move lower, my tongue tracing a path down her stomach, my hands on her hips, holding her steady. I kiss her thighs, the soft, pale skin a stark, beautiful contrast to my own dark, furred form. I lift her foot, cradling it in my hand. It is so small, so perfectly formed. I press a kiss to her ankle, to the arch of her foot, and then, because she is a part of me and I worship all of her, I take her smallest toe into my mouth, my tongue tracing its delicate shape.
She gasps, a sound of pure, shocked pleasure, her body trembling. “Votoi, what are you doing?”
“I am learning you,” I murmur against her skin. “Every part of you. You are my world now, Bella. And I intend to map every inch of it.”
I move to the heart of her, to the soft, dark curls that guard her secrets. The scent of her, of clean soap and pure, female musk, is an intoxicating perfume that threatens to shatter my control. I part her with my thumbs, revealing the delicate, pink flesh within. She is so beautiful, a perfect, intricate flower.
My tongue finds her, and she screams, a high, pure sound of absolute, soul-shattering pleasure. Her hands fist in my hair, her hips bucking against my mouth. She is so wet, so responsive, her taste a heady mixture of salt and sweetness that drives me mad.
“Oh, gods, Votoi, please,” she begs, her voice a raw, broken thing.
“Please what, my heart?” I growl against her, my tongue circling, teasing, tormenting.
“Please don’t stop,” she sobs.
I don’t. I worship her, my mouth and tongue a relentless, devoted servant to her pleasure. I learn the rhythm of her body, the way she gasps when I press here, the way she moans when I lick there. I bring her to the edge, again and again, until sheis a trembling, incoherent mess, her pleas turning into a single, desperate, repeated prayer. My name.
When I can bear her beautiful torment no longer, I rise. I strip off my breeches, my erection a thick, heavy, aching testament to my need for her. I lift her in my arms as if she weighs nothing and carry her to the massive, four-poster bed. I lay her on the silk sheets, a pearl on a bed of midnight.
She looks at me, her eyes wide, luminous, her body slick with her own pleasure. “I want you inside me,” she whispers, her soft voice a raw, desperate thing. “I need to feel you. All of you.”
I move between her legs, my hands finding hers, lacing our fingers together. I position myself at her entrance, the blunt tip of my cock pressing against her wet folds.
“You feel… perfect,” I groan, the words a guttural litany. “Like the Gods created you just for me. To save this lonely, lost soul.”
I push into her, a single, slow, powerful movement. She is a velvet trap, a sheath of wet heat that welcomes me, that takes all of me. There is no pain. Not this time. There is only a perfect, stretching fullness, a feeling of rightness, of coming home.
I pull her legs up, resting them on my shoulders, opening her to me completely. The position is a declaration, a claiming. She is mine, utterly, completely. And I am hers.
I begin to move, a slow, deep, worshipful rhythm. This is not the desperate claiming in the forge. This is not the tender, hopeful connection before the battle. This is a union. A sealing of the vows we made before the gods and our people.
“Votoi,” she moans, her head thrashing on the pillows. “Oh, gods, it feels so good.”
“You are my honor, Bella,” I growl, my voice a raw, emotional thing. “You are my strength. My home.”
I move faster, deeper, our bodies finding a frantic, perfect rhythm. We are no longer two separate beings. We are one. Oneheart, one soul, one body, moving in a timeless, beautiful dance of pleasure and promise.
“I’m coming, Votoi!” she screams, her body tensing, her inner muscles clenching around me like a fist.
“Come with me, my heart,” I roar, my own release a gathering storm.
We shatter together, a single, explosive wave of pure, soul-shattering release. My name is a raw, broken prayer on her lips as I empty myself into her, a final, absolute sealing of our bond.
I collapse onto her, my body heavy, spent. I stay buried deep inside her, our hearts beating a frantic, triumphant rhythm against each other. The weight of our future, of the house we must lead, of the new era we must build, it is a heavy, daunting thing. But as I hold my mate, my wife, my Bella, in my arms, I know, with an absolute, unshakeable certainty, that it is a weight we will bear together.
29
VOTOI
