The moment his large cock impaled her, my own core felt phantom jolts of pleasure. Familiar shame took hold, reminding me this was wrong—Iwas wrong.
“This was Jayne and Archer’s idea?” I whispered to Maisy in horror.
Her eyes stayed glued to the now animalistic fucking of Sleeping Beauty.
“They oversee the creative direction, but the idea for the scene itself came from Laura, the girl in the case—she’s been planning it for months.”
I frowned. “Oh.”
“But it was Archer’s suggestion to add in actual hypnosis. You should’ve seen her last week at Pilates—she couldn’t stop talking about it.”
If Sleeping Beauty was allowed to orchestrate a fucked-up fairy tale, was I allowed to enjoy watching it?
Was I allowed to desire myown?
This was something I still hadn’t decided, something I didn’t know how to decide. With each thrust, the stag man gripped his prey harshly, pushing her wrists above her head, lightly holding her neck, slipping his thumb between her pliable pink lips.
My thighs shifted. My clit pulsed with a sudden awareness. Below, Wes wasn’t watching the performance. He was watchingme.
His gaze scorched my skin. I wanted to run, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t stop watching, couldn’t drag my eyes away as the man growled and plunged deep inside the blonde beauty. His muscles trembled, sweat beading on his chiseled body.
“Wake up,” he commanded as he unloaded inside her.
The woman opened her eyes.
She beamed.
The crowd went wild, clapping and whistling. I raised my hands on autopilot, finding myself clapping with the rest of theroom. But I was entirely focused on the look on the woman’s face—the joy, the pride, the raw desire swimming in her hooded eyes.
The man slipped out of her before he scooped her into his arms and back onto the ground. He whispered something in her ear. She laughed. They kissed again as the crowd cheered.
“Let the Midsummer festivities begin,” the man called.
Maisy tugged on my arm, and I glanced at Wes one more time—his exposed chest, the threatening tattoos, the eyes that were devouring every inch of me from afar.
I quickly turned away.
“Hot, right?” Maisy gently elbowed me. “I want to get taken in an ancient fertility rite.”
“Like,symbolically, right?”
Maisy lifted a brow. “I have an IUD.” She paused. “Don’t tell Jayne, though, please. She says hormonal birth control disrupts our connection to our authentic selves and the divine.”
“Doyouthink that?” I asked her.
Maisy stared at me with wide eyes, as if the question was preposterous. “Of course. I’m getting it switched to the copper one, okay, which is way less toxic, but don’t mention that to anyone…”
“Maisy, of course I won’t share your medical history with people,” I assured her.
She shushed me, even though I’d already stopped talking. She reached for a golden door handle, and we entered a massive bathroom. Or maybe apowder room,in old money terms.
“Nova!” multiple cheery feminine voices exclaimed at once. Girls were doing each other’s hair and makeup in front of the long mirror or chatting from the arrangement of plush chairs. Others were assembling their outfits.
In the center of it all, Jayne turned.
I lost all train of thought. She was in all black, like a goddess of the night, or some dark queen of the underworld. She wore a crown of black crystals, a black sheer skirt with a double slit, and a dramatic corset that pushed out her breasts and attached to a jeweled collar.
“I call it Mother of Demons,” she said, giving herself a little twirl as she grinned. Her skin sparkled with ethereal shimmer, her lips a dark berry red.
