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Against my will, my eyes find the stunning girl who has wrecked me in ways I didn’t even think were possible. “Yeah, it is,” I sigh, the words more a declaration of defeat than anything else.

“You should tell her.”

“It’s complicated, M. For both of us.” I’ve never asked Angélica about her past, but I know she fights her own demons every day just as much as I do.

“When is it not,mon joli?” M tuts. “That does not mean that you get to play the coward and run away from your feelings like a puppy with its tail between its legs. You mustfaceit.”

“What if facing the truth breaks us?” I ask, giving voice to the fear that’s been mounting inside my chest from the moment I knew my little ruin was different from anyone I’ve ever met.

“We are all broken. But on the very rare occasion, some of usare lucky enough to find people whose sharp edges match up with our own. Don’t waste it.”

“Oui, madame,” I respond, hearing her words for the command that they are. And I know there will always be hell to pay if Madame M is not obeyed.

“Good boy.” Her eyes flick to where Angélica is sitting on her knees. “So how are you going to torment that perfect little angel over there waiting for you to give her exactly what she needs?”

A devilish smile tugs at my lips. “I think it’s about time she tasted my favorite whip, don’t you?” I have my own private collection of toys stored at Sucre to use when I’m in the city. And I know just the one to use. But I want to give Angélica more than one fantasy tonight.

“Still have that thick, black strap-on I’ve seen you use to stretch out poor little pussies?” I ask, a devious plan starting to take form.

“Oh no, I’ve got a much bigger one now,” M answers with a wink.

“Perfect,” I reply as we share a moment of mutual sadism. “Want to help show my angel how fun it is to sin?”

I’ll be damned if I ever let another goddamn cock near one of my girl’s pretty holes, but I think I can make her stuffed-full fantasy come true with a little bit of help.

“I’d be delighted,” M responds in a voice that promises pure pain. I’ve shared partners with M before, and she can be even more vicious than me.

Between the two of us, my pretty little ruin will be screaming for mercy.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

ANGÉLICA

My knees are starting to ache from being pressed into the hard floor. I rub my palm against my thigh, trying to soothe the chaotic tension building inside me. I’m not sure how long he’s left me here.

I’m antsy and desperate for something to take away the nerves, the noise in my head too damn loud for me to think. The quick orgasm Greyson gave me the minute we arrived has done nothing to put me at ease. If anything, I’m even more on edge.

I hadn’t expected Greyson to take me to a Parisian kink club. I mistakenly assumed our date would be culinary-centered, sampling some French delicacies or undiscovered gastronomy treasures. But when the door opened and I saw the menagerie of naked bodies finding pleasure in every way you can imagine, I could have kissed him for trusting me with such an intimate aspect of his life that’s entirely beyond the bounds of the kitchen.

Heaving a sigh, I close my eyes and focus on the sounds ricocheting through the room. Moans, whimpers, and cries are all interspersed between sounds of metal, leather, and slick skin meeting skin. It’s a seductive symphony that calls me to join thepandemonium erupting around me. In spite of my uneasiness, I find that I’d very much like to try.

“Are you okay, angel?” comes a rich, sensual voice from beside me that I recognize all too well.

I keep my eyes closed. “Yes, Master Greyson.” The words send a ripple of heat coursing through my bloodstream. His answering groan as he laces his fingers through my curls tells me it affects him, too.

“Are you ready for me to make you hurt?”

Mierda, the rumble in his throat as he says it would have my panties soaked—if he hadn’t already left them on the floor beside a puddle of my cum. “Yes, please.”

“Good girl. Let’s get you strapped in.” Strong hands take hold of my wrists and pull me to my feet. I blink up at him, dazed by the sight of his crystalline eyes looking so fierce as he drags his thumb over my bottom lip.

“Do you want to be blindfolded?” he asks, stroking his knuckles over my cheek. I lean into his touch like a desperate kitten in need of attention.

“Yes, Master Greyson.”

“I thought you might.” He digs into his back pocket and pulls out a wide strip of black silk. “Time to slip into the dark, angel.”

He fits the blindfold over my eyes, and instantly everything feels sharper—the warm bergamot and clove scent clinging to his skin, the clank of the cuffs on the cross as he prepares them, the tickle of the arousal dripping down my thighs.