Page 36
CALLUM
Sloane believes I’m controlled. She doesn’t understand how close I am to tearing the dress from her body and taking everything she offered in one ravenous act. I force myself to move slowly. She requested the restraints.
She chose the altar. She asked for fear without danger and surrender without powerlessness. Every choice remains hers. Even if following her rules destroys me. I take the black rope and bind her wrists separately to the padded rings hidden beneath the altar. The restraints leave her standing with her arms stretched above her head and her breasts pressed against the wood. I slide two fingers beneath each knot.
“Too tight?”
“No.”
“Numbness?”
“No.”
I pull gently, testing them. Sloane arches.
“Comfortable?”
“Unfortunately.”
Her defiance makes my cock ache. I drag one hand down the center of her back. Tonight god is about to see all the sinful things from one of his angels.
“You won’t be comfortable for long.”
She glances over her shoulder.
“Promises, promises.”
My palm lands against her ass. The sound cracks through the chapel. Sloane’s breath catches. Dante has already left his marks—a soft pink stain across both cheeks. Jealousy crawls beneath my skin. I touch every place he marked. Her body responds to my hands. Not his. Mine.
“How many times did he strike you?”
“Five.”
“Did you enjoy it?”
“Yes.”
“Did you enjoy his mouth?”
Her thighs press together.
“Yes.”
“What did Rhys do?”
“He made me beg.”
“And you liked that too?”
“Yes.”
I curl my fingers around the hem of her dress.
“You enjoyed giving yourself to them.”
Sloane watches me over her shoulder.
“I came here for all three of you.”
