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A memory of dirty gray panties on a forest floor pops into my mind. I imagine the Baroness like this, bent over and submissive. The erection I’d managed to keep under control thickens into a hard rod.

The woman looks back at me, breath warm, expectant.

“Here,” I command, getting her attention. I gesture between us. “Eyes right here. Watchmewhile he fucksyou.”

The dude is into it, as much as she is, his cock hard and straining against the latex. She keeps her hazel eyes focused on mine. Behind her, he wraps his hand around the base of his cock and angles himself toward her entrance.

She nods, her pink tongue darting out to wet her lips.

He strokes himself once, steady. “She ready?” I ask.

He checks, slick fingers gleaming in the low light.

She’s moaning before he even enters. He fills her slowly, deliberately. No frenzy, no rush. Just pressure and rhythm and a shared, building pace.

Her eyes stay locked on mine, even as her mouth falls open. Her cheeks flush deeper when I shift forward, elbows on my knees, watching them like a slow-burning ritual.

“Grip her hair,” I murmur. “Let her feel it.”

He does, twining the strands around his fingers, and yanks.Hard.Her moan deepens.

This is the Sanctum at its best. Control, performance, reverence, and release. It’s what I crave out there, in the real world, but can’t seem to grasp.

Her eyes flutter shut, and I call out a reminder, “Look at me.”

This moment is not about intimacy. It’s about control. Can I get these people to do what I want? When her eyes blink open, obeying, my cock thickens again.

Leaning forward, I get closer to her. Strands of her hair have fallen from the clasp, and lipstick and eye makeup are smudged. Her eyes dart to my mouth, like she thinks I’m going to join in, maybe kiss her, maybe unbutton my pants and thrust my cock between her parted lips.

“He’s going to take you to the next level,” I explain, looking from her to him. “Wrap your hands around her throat.”

“My–” her words are cut off by his fingers clenching around her neck. The man doesn’t skip a beat, thrusting into her erratically, his orgasm close. I can’t get enough of the push-pull between them as she struggles to breathe and he edges himself, wanting this to last longer.

The throbbing in my cock intensifies. “Fuck, that’s good.”

Her eyes are wide, changing from sex to fear. A tremble builds in her limbs. She may be scared but she’s also turned on. The energy between us, the three of us, is electric, and the urge to reach out to pinch, to bite, to throttle the very essence out of her is fucking consuming.

No touching.

That’s the rule.

I tilt my head. “You scared?”

She nods.

“Of me or him?” I ask.

Over her shoulder he groans, the orgasm ripping through him. His fingers tighten, hard enough that her eyes flutter shut. Her body convulses, not just from the lack of air, but from her body finally getting release.

The man drops her and she flops forward, life and pleasure wrung from her body.

I lean forward and ask again. “Who are you scared of? Me or him?”

The sound of heavy breathing cloaks her voice but there’s no mistaking it when she says, “You.”

Turning into the long driveway,I park the car by the standalone garage behind the house. It’s still early and there are only a few lights in the stained glass windows. When I get to the back entry I’m surprised to see Graves waiting by the door.

I’d left Blondie and her man in a sweaty pile at Noir Sanctum, barely making it to the bathroom before cumming in the sink. When I got to the truck, I felt the urge lessened, my body purged, and found a happy Ares napping with his bone.