Chapter 10
10
“ I don’t submit,” I whispered again, the words spilling from my lips like a challenge, each breath shallower than the last. My heart hammered in my chest, but I didn’t flinch. I refused to. My eyes were locked on Atley’s, defiant even as his hand tightened around my thigh. The pressure was steady, possessive, a silent reminder that I wasn’t in control of this moment.
Not anymore.
His smile deepened, and there was something wicked and predatory in the way his lips curled, like a wolf toying with its prey. "We’ll see," he repeated, voice low and intimate, sending a shiver down my spine. He leaned closer, his breath hot against my ear, the scent of him filling my senses. "You’ve got fire in you, little saint, but fire burns out."
I could feel the heat of his body pressing against mine, the weight of him pinning me in place. It was intoxicating, all raw power and dark intent. I wanted to push him away, to prove I wasn’t someone who could be claimed so easily, but the truth was, some part of me didn’t want to resist. Some part of me was drawn to him, to this, like a moth to a flame.
But I wasn’t ready to let him know that.
Not yet.
His hand slid higher, fingers tracing a path along the curve of my hip, slow and deliberate, as if savoring the way my body tensed beneath his touch. "You want to test me?" he asked, voice gravel rough as his lips brushed against the skin of my neck. "You want to see how far you can go before you break?"
I swallowed hard, my pulse quickening. "I don’t break," I said, though my voice trembled slightly at the lie. "And I don’t bow."
Atley chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating through me, sending another wave of heat through my veins. His hand moved to cup my chin, forcing my gaze back to his.
“Not yet,” he whispered, his voice laced with a dark promise. “But you will.”
I bit back a sharp breath as his mouth found mine, the kiss rough and consuming, stealing the air from my lungs. There was nothing gentle about the way he claimed me, nothing tender in the way his lips moved against mine, but there was something else—something primal, something that spoke to the darkest parts of me, the parts I kept hidden, even from myself.
He pulled back just enough to speak, his breath hot against my lips. “Do you know what I see when I look at you, Priestly?” he murmured, voice so low, it was almost a growl. “I see someone who wants to be broken, someone who craves it. You wear your defiance like armor, but underneath, you’re aching to give in.”
His words sank into me, every syllable stoking the flames of something dangerous inside me, something I wasn’t ready to face. I wanted to hate him for it, for seeing through me so clearly, for stripping away the walls I’d spent so long building.
But I couldn’t deny that he was right. At least, not entirely.
“You don’t know me,” I hissed, though the words lacked conviction. This man had known me my entire life.
He smiled again, a slow, wicked smile that made my pulse race. “Don’t I?”
His hand moved between us, his fingers brushing low over my hip bone, teasing, testing. “I think I know you better than you know yourself, little saint. I think I know exactly what you need.”
I trembled beneath him, my body betraying me with every passing second. I wanted to resist, wanted to shove him away and prove I wasn’t his to take. But the truth was, I was already his. I had been from the moment I stepped into this dark, twisted game.
From the moment I accepted the invitation to the party.
And maybe even before then. Maybe since we were children.
“Don’t move,” Atley said suddenly, withdrawing from me wholly, leaving me naked and shivering in the dirt. “Close your eyes and remember that you trust me.”
From his back pocket, Atley pulled out a length of rope. I started and immediately attempted to sit up, but the intense look Atley shot at me stopped me in my tracks.
“I said,” he started, “do not move.” He unbound the rope, letting it slither to the ground like a snake before he grabbed one of my bare feet in his hands. Breath hitching, I watched, entranced, as he wrapped an intricate lacework of rope around my ankles and calves before binding them together. He worked quickly and efficiently, testing the tautness against my skin with a finger before moving on to my wrists.
He bound my hands together as though I was praying, weaving the rope in and out between my fingers in intricate-looking knots and patterns.
“Someday, when we have more time,” he murmured as he worked, “I want to tie you up like this when you’re on your knees in front of me. But I’ll do the reverse prayer tie so when my cock is finally down that pretty throat of yours, you’ll be forced to gag on it.”
Unbidden, a moan of want slipped from my lips at the image.
“Yeah, little saint. I know. You need it so bad.” Atley finished his last knot and leaned over me, his face, so beautiful, taking up my line of vision. “And you’ll have me in your mouth soon enough, but not yet.”
Atley stood and reached back over his head, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and dragging it over his head. He swooped down, snatching something from the ground and slipping it on his head. When he looked back toward me, I saw it was his Ghostface mask.
Despite knowing it was Atley, my breath immediately started shaking.
Fuck.