Page 10

The club pulsed with heat and bass, a low thump running through the floor like a heartbeat.

SIR wailed through the speakers:

But I see no evil

Oh, I see no evil

Oh, I see another reason for me to believe in the hero

Can you breathe underwater?

Should I dive any deeper?

What's the name you want me to call you

Whenever I need you?

Priest’s hand was glued to the small of my back as he guided me through the VIP section, nodding at the men who glanced our way with too much interest.

He leaned into my ear. “Keep your eyes on me. Not on them. ”

I rolled my eyes, used to his jealousy. I did what he said—but really, he was annoying sometimes. What did he think I would do? Run off with someone in the club?

I didn’t bother arguing. There was no point.

We stopped near a table where a man in a crisp charcoal suit sat nursing dark liquor, a smirk tugging at his mouth. His eyes swept over me once, slow, calculating, and lingered a bit too long. He looked like Priest.

“Edoardo,” Priest said. “This is Miyori . Miyori , this is my cousin Edoardo.”

I nodded, thinking they must be pretty close for him to be introducing me—while having a whole wife at home.

“Ah,” his cousin stood, looking tall and dangerous like Priest but with a softer smile.

"The little Saint who drives him mad."

“I guess,” I said, not knowing what else to say.

Priest didn’t respond. But his hand tightened around my waist.

Edoardo stepped forward, lifted my hand, and kissed the back of it like we were in some old film. I felt nothing—no tingle, no lust. I snatched my hand back, making a show of it for Priests sake.

“Don’t do that again,” Priest said flatly .

Edoardo chuckled.

I blinked. The tension between them was almost suffocating now. Here we go.

“Don’t look so serious, cousin. Sit, have a drink.”

We sat for a while. Edoardo ordered expensive liquor like he owned the bar and kept talking to me like he didn’t care that his cousin was damn near vibrating with anger.

He was arrogant. Charming. Funny. But with Priest next to me, I knew better than to laugh too loud or hold eye contact too long.

Still, I slipped once—just once. I chuckled at a joke I barely heard.

Priest’s fingers dragged up the inside of my thigh under the table.

I bit my lip to keep from moaning.

After a few minutes, he stood. “Dance with me.”

It wasn’t a request. His hand found mine before I could answer.

The floor was crowded, but Priest carved space with his presence alone. He pulled me flush against him, hands on my hips, mouth brushing the shell of my ear as we moved.

“Did you enjoy my cousin’s attention? ”

I swallowed. “He was just being nice… I was just being nice.”

Priest’s hand slid lower, squeezing. “You smiled at him.”

“I smiled to be polite.”

“Not like that.”

I didn’t say anything, just started swaying with him, pressing my head into his chest. A part of me wondered when he’d get tired of me so I didn't have to deal with his mood swings. It had been his idea to go out. He knew he couldn't handle it— Another part hoped he never got tired of me.

One minute we were dancing, then suddenly he was dragging me through the crowd and back to the booth. My heart dropped. What in the fuck was I in for now?

Edoardo sat exactly where we left him, legs spread, arms sprawled on the back of the couch. His eyebrow rose, and he sat up straight when he saw us.

Priest dropped into the seat beside him, then pulled me down and situated me to straddle his waist.

“Ride me,” he murmured, low and dark, just for me. “Right here, Lil Saint.”

My breath caught. “Priest, come on. You need to chill…”

“He thinks I’m a joke because of you. He thinks he has a chance. Show him he doesn’t.”

He reached between us. His fingers undid his zipper. My dress was hiked up around my thighs already. He pushed my panties to the side.

The music thumped on, loud enough to hide the gasp I let out when he pushed inside me, stretching me. I was barely wet.

I braced my hands on his shoulders, heart in my throat.

“Move,” he whispered, digging his fingers into my ass deep enough to draw blood.

So I did.

Slow at first—every inch of him thick and hard, filling me completely. Priest’s hands guided me, helping me grind down into him. I couldn’t help it. It started to feel good. My head tilted back, and I moaned.

I could feel Edoardo watching. His eyes felt like fingers crawling over my skin.

“Look at him,” Priest said, voice gravel-rough against my throat. “Let him see what he’ll never have.”

I gazed over my shoulder. Edoardo jaw was tight now. He didn'tmove, didn't blink. Just sipped his drink, one brow lifted like he was witnessing something both obscene and fascinating.

Priest’s hand slid up my spine, then wrapped around one of the two long French braids I had in my head, tugging just enough to sting.

“That’s right, baby. Show him who you belong to.”

I ground down harder. Faster. Shame, lust, pride—all of it tangled in my chest.

Priest groaned low, chest vibrating under my palms. “You’re mine. Every goddamn inch of you. Your pussy. Your skin. Your flesh. Your fucking smiles.”

I didn’t break eye contact with Edoardo until I came.

Priest sped up. At the last second he pulled out, painting my pussy lips and thighs in his cum.

He bit down into my shoulder—hard.

I choked on a gasp, the pain and pleasure crashing together so violently it brought tears to my eyes. My nails dug into his shoulders.

“Stop,” I whimpered.

He didn’t let go right away. His teeth sank deeper—enough to bruise my flesh.

When he finally pulled back, his lips brushed the skin he’d just brutalized. His voice was low, thick. “Cry if you want,” he murmured. “But I bet you remember this next time.”

I wanted to punch him in his mouth .

His crazy ass gently removed me from his lap. “Fix yourself.” If humiliation had been his goal. He had succeeded. I dropped my head as I fixed my dress.

He turned to stare at his cousin.

Edoardo raised his glass. “Point taken.”

Priest smiled—a rare smile.