Or maybe it was this—me alive, breathing, moaning—while he’s forced to sit and watch.
Whatever it was, this is not a dream.
This is his reality now.
“Look at me, Skye,” Nathaniel murmurs.
I do.
“This is what powerless means,” he says, pointing at Mark.
And he’s right. We’re stripping this man of the last thing he ever held over me.
“Yes,” I breathe.
Talon loops the loose end of the chain around my ankle. He leans down, tongue in his cheek, and grins wide enough to bare teeth. “There. Now you’re art, baby.”
It’s mockery more than anything. Just salt to Mark’s wound. And it works.
“You’re… sick,” Mark spits.
I laugh. I can’t help it. It bubbles out of me, high and sharp. Maybe I’m sick with whatever he infected me with, but guess what? All I’m doing now is proving exactly how alive I am. Unlike how he left me.
Nathaniel slides a hand up my back, angling me until there’s more space between him and Cassian. My spine bows to its limit. He leans close, breath warm along my ear.
“Mm, Skye,” he rumbles. “Can’t wait to fuck you like this.”
He rolls his hips, grinding his hardening cock against me. I gasp, head tipping back.
Mark watches. He cannot stop. Disgust tries to wear his face; terror steals the fit.
“Count,” Talon says, lazy and lethal. “Every breath she takes.”
“One,” Mark rasps.
Nathaniel’s nose skims my cheek.
“Eyes on me,” he murmurs. I look, and the world narrows to a single bright wire. He rolls his hips with obscene patience—pressure, retreat, pressure—feeding me a slow burn that makes my knees try to lock, even bound as I am.
“Two,” Mark grinds out.
Cassian hooks his huge palms over my hoodie. He drags the material up, up, up, until my underboobs show. Then slower still, he unveils my nipples, letting the hem brush across them.
I moan.
“T–Three…” Mark stammers.
Talon laughs, delighted. “He’s keeping up. Good.”
“He’s attentive,” Cassian notes.
“How could he not be?” Talon says. “Those tits are to die for.”
“I’ll be happy to kill him for seeing them,” Nathaniel groans. More pressure, angled just right. He’s driving me insane.
“Hear that, man?” Talon says, a short, strained laugh threaded with cruelty. His attention isn’t where it started; it’s glued to my breasts. “We’ll kill you after it’s all over.”
“She’s my fuckingwife,” Mark spits.
