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Ben’s movements are quieter, like he’s shedding not just his clothes but the weight of his intellect, revealing the raw desire beneath. His sandy hair falls over his forehead as his shirt comes off, and the sight of his lean body sends an eager shiver down my spine.
Charlie laughs, a low, seductive sound that promises trouble and pleasure intertwined. His eclectic style peels away to bare skin that gleams with anticipation, his hazel eyes alight with mischief and sin.
Damien undresses last, his presence like a shadow chilling and enticing all at once. His monochromatic attire gives way to pale skin marked with scars and the contrast of his black hair and grey eyes. My breath catches at the sight of him, at the thought of what those intense eyes have seen—and what they hunger to see now.
They stand before me, men of power and lust that I’ve chosen, that have chosen me, and right now, nothing else matters. Not the lock on the manor doors, not the secrets in the library, not even the bloodline that’s put a target on my back.
There’s only this room, these men, and the twisted lust that is about to be indulged.
Alistair’s grip is firm, his palm hot against mine as he pulls me toward the bed. It’s huge, like everything else in his room, covered in deep red sheets that look softer than anything I’ve ever touched. I’m suddenly aware of every breath, every heartbeat, as he turns to face me.
His lips are on me, and his kiss isn’t gentle; it’s demanding, a declaration of ownership that I have to respond to. His hands roam over me, rough and insistent, as he strips my clothes away, leaving trails of heat wherever they touch.
Suddenly, I feel another presence at my back. Ben. His fingers ghost along my spine, down the inscription, and a shiver of anticipation runs through me. His lips brush my earlobe, sending tingles down my neck.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs. There’s a reverence in his tone but also something darker, edged with possession. He traces the curve of my hip, and I arch into his touch instinctively. His green eyes lock onto mine from over my shoulder in the mirror across the room, filled with an intensity that says he sees right through me. “We’re going to take good care of you.”
His promise is laced with an implicit threat, one that I’m not sure I want him to keep. But as Alistair’s mouth moves down my neck, marking me with his lips, and Ben’s hands follow the contours of my body with a possessive touch, I can’t bring myself to pull away. Instead, I sink deeper into the sensations, letting the fire they ignite consume me.
Charlie’s ragged breathing cuts through the thick air of desire, a sharp sound that reels me back to the present. “Look at you,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with authority as he steps into my line of sight. His gaze holds mine, hazel eyes burning with a predatory gleam.
“Charlie,” I breathe out, and it’s both a warning and an invitation.
“Shh,” he commands, and something in his tone silences any protest I might have made. Alistair smirks and steps back without complaint, letting Charlie take over.
With a confident grasp, Charlie tilts my chin up, forcing me to meet his stare. “Ever, you’re ours to worship,” he growls.
He doesn’t wait for my consent—not that he needs to. He has it now, they all do. I’m already putty in their hands, melting under their touch. Charlie’s hand slides down the curve of my waist, gripping my hip to steer me backwards until my knees hitthe edge of the bed. I fall onto the plush mattress, my breath hitched, heart racing.
“Spread her out,” Charlie orders, and I feel Alistair’s hands behind me, pulling me further up the bed, and Damien’s on my ankles, parting my legs wide.
“Good girl,” Damien murmurs, his voice a low rumble that vibrates against my skin. His fingers are gentle as they guide my limbs, stretching me out on display.
“Damien?” My question is half-moan, half-plea. The fear and anticipation has my pussy twitching in wanton need.
“Trust me.” He secures my wrists and ankles to the posts with silk ties. Bound and spreadeagled, I’m theirs to devour.
“Fuck, you’re so beautiful spread out like this,” Damien whispers. He stands back, admiring the view for a moment before he leans over me. I can see the hunger in his eyes, a reflection of my own need.
“Relax,” he soothes, brushing a lock of hair from my face. “You’re safe.”
Strangely, even tied up and at their mercy, I believe him.
I trust them with my life.
Damien slowly walks over to the dresser, where he picks up the knife laid out—a wicked promise of what’s to come. He returns to me and straddles me with ease, that knife flipping lazily in his fingers. My heart kicks against my ribs like it’s trying to escape, but there’s also a dark thrill that coils deep in my belly.
The blade, suddenly cold and smooth, slides along my skin. The flat side of the knife traces the swell of my breasts, down my stomach, over the rise of my hips. I’m holding my breath, every nerve-ending screaming alert as the steel dances across me.
Then there’s a sting, sharp and unexpected, right above my hip bone. I gasp, eyes wide, staring at the thin red line welling up on my flesh. Damien leans in close, his gorgeous eyes alive witha fierce kind of excitement that sends another tremble through my entire body.
“Ever, you’re so fucking perfect,” he breathes out, voice husky with desire. His lips are at the cut now, tongue flicking out to taste the metallic tang of my blood. It’s a kiss and a lick all at once, and my body jerks against the ties, caught between shock and an inexplicable rush of heat.
“More?” he asks, but it’s not really a question. His eyes bore into mine, searching for the edge of my limits. I nod because while the fear is there, it’s tangled up with something wilder, something that wants to know just how far he can push this.
The knife is back, its edge kissing my skin again, lower this time—near where my thigh meets my hip. Another slice, and I can’t hold back a whimper. Damien’s mouth is on me instantly, soothing the burn with his tongue, his breath hot against the new wound.
I feel the bed shift as Ben climbs onto the mattress, his body heat adding to the smouldering atmosphere. “You’re doing so well,” he praises softly, almost tenderly. His fingers skim along my inner thigh, dangerously close to where I need him most. Every touch is a promise of what could happen if I just let go completely.
