Page 38

I drag my mouth down her spine, alternating kisses with controlled bites. Every sound she makes burns away another piece of the discipline keeping me from losing myself. I kneel behind her. Her thighs part. Trusting. Inviting. Mine if she keeps choosing to be. I kiss the mark Dante left on one cheek. Then the other. Sloane laughs breathlessly.

“Are you kissing them better?”

“No.”

I sink my teeth into the soft curve beneath the first mark. Her laughter becomes a moan.

“I’m replacing them.”

“Jealous Scarecrow.”

“Very.”

I spread her open. She’s already wet fuuuckkkk. Her arousal shines in the candlelight, evidence of what the others did and how much she still wants from me. My thumb traces her slowly. Sloane rocks backward. I grip her thigh.

“Still.”

“Touch me properly.”

“You don’t give me orders.”

“You told me I walked to the altar because I chose to.”

My thumb circles her again.

“You did.”

“You told me I’m not powerless.”

“You aren’t.”

“Then I choose to order you to touch me.”

I stare at the slick heat waiting between her thighs. A laugh rumbles from my chest.

“Clever prey.”

My mouth closes over her.

SLOANE

Callum doesn’t tease like Rhys. He doesn’t play like Dante. He fucking devours. His tongue drags through me with slow, punishing focus, tasting everything the other men left behind. His hands lock around my thighs, holding me open while he kneels behind the altar.

The position leaves me helplessly exposed. My arms stretch above my head. My cheek rests against the cold wood. The ropes prevent me from reaching for him. All I can do is feel. Callum’s mouth moves over me. His tongue presses inside before gliding higher and circling the swollen place already made sensitive by Dante. I cry out. Callum growls against me. The vibration travels through my body.

“Oh, fuck.”

His grip tightens. I push backward, desperate for more. He removes his mouth.

“No.”

The loss is immediate and brutal.

“Callum.”

“Stay still.”

“I’m tied to an altar.”