was already pressing in.
Priest knelt between my legs and gripped the backs of my thighs. My breath hitched.
Leaning around me, he glanced at my bound hands. Ashley didn’t release my fingers. Priest showed no reaction to it.
“Ready?” Madwulf balanced the hourglass on his thigh.
“Give me a second.” Priest scowled at him. “And stop talking, arsehole.”
Sounds of snickering wafted through the cottage.
I hated this. Hated every second that coiled my insides tighter and harder. I couldn’t breathe.
Priest sat back on his heels, hooked my legs around his waist, and lifted my thighs so that they rested atop his. Discreetly straightening the hem of my shirt, he kept me covered as he inched closer on his knees.
The position raised me higher up his muscled thighs until I straddled his lap. He kept an eye on my hands behind me, ensuring the rope didn’t tighten and dig into my wrists.
I was entirely at his mercy, with my legs spread around him and my arms bound. A month ago, I would’ve resented him for this. A month ago, he was the one in restraints. So much had changed since I’d last seen him, but the one true constant was and always would be his obsession with keeping me safe.
He softly glided his hands up my thighs, causing my breaths to quicken. Ashley squeezed my fingers and made a deep threatening noise in his throat. A sound meant for Priest’s ears only.
I couldn’t look at Ashley, couldn’t think about him if I wanted this to work. He would die if Priest failed. I didn’t know what the plan was, but it obviously required Priest to fuck me first.
The shaking in my limbs worsened. I bit down on the gag and met his eyes, pleading, soundlessly screaming. For what I didn’t know.
Enforced contact with his masculine heat and chiseled physique softened me a little. But what if I couldn’t do this? What if he couldn’t make me come?
He leaned in between Ashley and me and put his mouth at my ear. “Relax.” A guttural whisper. “We’ve done this hundreds of times.”
Not with an audience. And certainly not with a protective lover trussed up beside me.
Hundreds of times. Confound it, Ashley had heard that. He didn’t react, didn’t move a muscle, but his ear was right next to mine. He now knew that Priest and I had shared much more than one night together.
But one thing I could count on was Ashley’s unnatural ability to only show the face he wanted people to see. No one in this room would guess what he was feeling or thinking. Or hearing.
I gave his fingers a hard hug with mine, and he squeezed back.
“Time starts now.” Madwulf tipped the hourglass.
Ten minutes. I drew in a breath and stared into the molten silver of Priest’s stunning eyes.
Never had there been a pirate more gorgeous or seductively built than him. He exemplified manly beauty and virility. Staring at him this close, I was immediately overcome, shook to my soul with love and longing.
Hypnotized, I lost myself in our connection, sinking fast and deep into the mystical alchemy that bound us together so intensely.
Light fingertips tickled between my legs, stirring nerve endings. Calloused fingers. Familiar. Comforting.
“One finger.” Madwulf’s brogue broke through the spell, tensing my spine. “And I require proof of her lust.”
“Every time you speak,” Priest snarled over his shoulder, “the sand begins anew. Start it over!”
“Fine.” Madwulf reset the hourglass. “Carry on.”
Sweat slicked my hands. Ashley’s sweat? Mine? We were both perspiring in the clasp of our entwined fingers, the tension unbearable.
Priest set his mouth on my jaw, breathing easily, patiently, as his finger slid along the slit between my legs.
I felt dry down there. Perhaps too dehydrated to produce natural lubricant. But for Priest to succeed, it wouldn’t be the physical pleasure that sent me over. It would be our emotional connection. I needed him on that level more than any other.
So I focused on his dependable gaze, on the thoughts he couldn’t voice that swirled so turbulently in those eyes. He penetrated me completely, without so much as the tip of his finger in my body.
He penetrated me with his adoration, the force of his steadfast tenacity.
He’d been inside me for three years, stretching out, rearranging things, and making a home for himself. He was stronger than my heart, bigger than my soul, and more powerful than my mind. He symbolized the deepest level of love. Not because he was kneeling beneath me and fingering my cunt, but because