Page 190 of What We Burn

“Yes.”

“You’ve never worn them.”

It isn’t a question. I shake my head anyway, because my body has already answered—nipples tightening to aching points, breath coming shallow, heat flooding between my legs like my cunt doesn’t understand the concept of fear. Or understands it perfectly and wants it anyway.

“These are for the parts of you that forgot who you belong to,” Eli says. “Every time they bite, you’re going to remember.”

He cups my left breast, lifting it, his thumb circling the nipple once—slow, almost tender—and the contrast between that gentleness and what’s coming makes me whimper. Then he opens the clamp and lets it close.

The pain is white and immediate and so much sharper than I imagined. I cry out, jerking forward, and the leash jerks me back, and suddenly I’m caught between two kinds of restraint with nowhere to go. The bite blooms. Settles. Becomes a throbbing point of fire that every nerve in my body reorganizes itself around.

“Breathe, little savage.”

I breathe.

The second clamp closes on my right nipple and this time I’m ready for it, except I’m not, because knowing doesn’t dull it—it focuses it. The sound that comes out of me is broken and wet and Knox makes a low noise beside me, appreciative, like I’m performing exactly as written.

“Look at her,” Eli says, and there’s reverence under the command now, the fury finally cracking enough to let the want through. He flicks the chain between the clamps and both points of fire light up at once. My back arches against the cuffs. “Safe word, Sage.”

“Hangmen,” I gasp. “Please⁠—”

“Please what?”

“I don’t know.” A sob hiccups out of me, laughter tangled inside it. “Everything. Anything. I don’t care.”

Eli stands, and I feel him move around me, the leash trailing across my back as he repositions. Knox shifts too—I catch the flex of his forearms in my peripheral vision, the way he’s palming himself, his pants hanging open off his hips and his movement unhurried, like he could watch me come apart for hours and call it a perfect evening.

Eli’s hand slides between my thighs and we both discover how soaked I am at the same moment.

“Jesus, Sage.” His fingers drag through me, two of them sinking in without resistance, and my whole body clamps down like I’ve been starving. “You get punished and this is what happens. You’re dripping down your legs.”

“I’m sorry,” I moan, and I am, and I’m not, and he knows both are true.

“You’re not sorry yet.” He withdraws his fingers and I hear him suck them clean, and the filthy intimacy of that sound nearly finishes me. “But you will be.”

Planting his hand in the center of my back, Eli shoves me forward. Without my hands to catch me, my chest hits the bench, face turned to the side, cheek pressed into the warm leather. I’m pinned by gravity and the angle of my own body—ass up, knees spread, the dress bunched at my waist like a belt of ruined fabric. The clamps pinch even harder under the pressure and I let out a strangled cry.

Knox moves to the front of the bench. He crouches, and his hands find my face—palms warm, fingers curving around my jaw, holding me steady. His eyes meet mine, dark and level.

“Right here, Fury,” he says. “Eyes on me. Nowhere else.”

I nod against his palms.

Knox holds me there with his eyes, anchoring me in place. I hear Eli move behind me, the soft hiss of air as he takes one of the leather paddles from the wall. My pulse jackhammers. I don’t dare look away from Knox. I might fly off the planet if I do.

Eli’s hand sweeps the dress higher up my hips. Cool air washes over my bare skin. Knox’s pupils widen at the sight of me—open, helpless, strung tight across the padded bench—and the muscles in his jaw flex, but his hands remain steady against my cheeks.

“I know you’re not gonna use it,” Knox rumbles. “But I want to hear the safe word from you one more time.”

I nod.

“You’ve gotta say it to me so I know you’re still here. What’s the word, Fury?”

“Hangmen,” I force out. The word comes high and breathless.

Knox glances up at Eli and nods.

Then the paddle comes down.