I didn’t need a collar to know what she wasn’t saying.
My thumb continued to stroke her cheek as I spoke. “It’s all right, Miranda. You don’t have to say it. Not yet. When you are ready, you will call me Master again.”
Her eyes met mine and I saw relief there. Contentment.
My cock pulsed in my pants. I stepped back, dropped my hand. “That dress looks pretty on you, but it will look just as nice on the floor.”
Slowly, as if just the delay was a tease to my cock, she lifted her hands to her shoulders, slid the thin straps of her green gown--the color of it did not go unnoticed by me, matching the color of her mate’s collar, of her mate’s family colors--off her shoulders, then down her arms.
The farther it traveled down her body, the more she showed. Every bit of her beneath was bare. Nothing covered her breasts. No scrap of fabric covered her pussy.
I couldn’t help but emit a similar growl from my chest as Trist had. She was a vision unclothed. Full breasts, plump nipples which hardened even as I watched. A slightly rounded belly and full hips. She was not a waif, but lush and thick in all the right places. Perfect to hold, to grip as I fucked her.
That I remembered well.
When the material pooled at her feet, she stood tall and proud, but I saw the touch of nerves in her brown eyes, in the way her fingers moved.
I would not make her wait. Reaching out, I cupped her breast, remembering the delicious weight of it. She sighed and thrust her chest into my palm. She wanted it.
Trist made a deep sound as if he were an Atlan who had a beast within. I afforded him a second of my attention. He had not moved from his spot against the wall, affording him a clear view of our mate.
Yes, ours. I would prove it with every touch.
I could understand him, for I felt as if I were possessed by something. Not a beast, but a need so great, so fierce, I would rage if I could not have what I wanted.
But cupping her breast soothed me. She was here, before me. Whole. She wanted me. Wanted this.
The nipple clamps were connected by the thin golden chain. It was light, only offering the slightest tug on her nipples once clamped. It would be my medallion that not only would signify her as mine, but offer her the constant pull as a reminder of our match.
I held one clamp between my fingers, let the other drop so it dangled by the chain as I worked her nipple with my thumb and forefinger, tugging and pulling gently until it was a stiff peak.
Only then did I lower my head, keeping my gaze on hers the entire time, and take the tip into my mouth. Suck. Lick.
And when she moaned and her fingers lifted to tangle in my hair, I stood back up.
“The first one,” I said, opening the clamp and setting it on her bright pink nipple, letting it close, then adjusting the tightness of it.
I watched her eyes, saw the flare of pain as it became snug, then a gasp when I tightened it a little further.
“Breathe,” I whispered.
She did as instructed, and after a moment, her look went soft, went almost hazy with lust. The pain had morphed into the sweet pleasure she loved.
“Brax,” she whispered as I repeated the motions for her other nipple.
Only when they were both affixed and she’d felt their bite, then bliss, did I step back.
“Look at our mate, Captain. Beautiful without, and with.”
She’d never worn the chain before, but the sight of it, with the dark green gems swaying beneath her pert nipples, made it one step closer to claiming her as mine, had my balls aching. The need to bend her over the bed and fuck her from behind as her breasts swayed, as the chain swung, was almost desperate.
I would take her that way. Soon.
Her gaze shifted to Trist and I saw the touch of uncertainty. Surely, he felt it through their collars.
He pushed off the wall, strode over to her. He looked down at her breasts, studied them silently. With one finger, he flicked the chain, set it in motion. She gasped.
“She likes it,” he said, as if that had been a surprise for him.