The candles burned lower now, their light barely reaching the corners of the guest room. The air was thick, heavy with heat and the smell of skin. Ariana lay on her back, her chest rising and falling too fast, the blindfold still tied around her eyes. Her wrists weren’t bound, but they might as well have been. The hands, the voices, the weight of the night held her still better than any rope ever could.
Richard stood at the end of the bed, watching. She could feel his gaze like a hand on her skin even when he didn’t move. Logan sat beside her, fingers brushing idle patterns along her stomach. Julian leaned against the headboard, swirling the last of his drink. Peter stood near the foot of the bed, his silence as steady as the shadows.
“She’s ready,” Logan said softly.
Richard’s voice sl
