Page 162 of Chandelier Sin
Soaring confusion was followed by a rush of fear for Atticus and his damn arrogance. And then a fresh wave of terror hit me, as though I was just now waking up to this nightmare.
I studied him like I was seeing a ghost. Over the last hour his recklessness had threatened his existence in a multitude of ways.
“You’re giving her to Atticus?” Jewel sounded baffled.
This felt like the first breath I’d taken since they’d locked me in here. Surging adrenaline caused me to tremble, my body still coiled into a tight ball of tension.
“You’re relinquishing the session?” asked Aemon, also showing his surprise.
Lance gave a bow. “I am.”
Jewel pushed up and stormed toward him. “You don’t get to decide.”
“If it’s a punishment Aemon wants for his unruly wife, then a filthy fuck from Atticus Sinclair is just what the doctor ordered.” He scoffed at his own joke.
Aemon stood up slowly. “Careful.”
“Of course, nothing happens without your approval,” said Atticus.
This seemed to appease Aemon. “Out,” he said to Merrill.
Lance strolled out of the chamber.
Atticus still hadn’t looked my way.
But I knew that expression. Knew when he was filled with fury from the way his jaw flexed. He hated them for doing this to me. He’d tried to warn me. Come all the way up to the sixth floor and yet I’d tried to send him away.
I’d insulted him, too. Tried to deter him. Because I’d been more concerned for him.
What did that say about us? That we were always looking out for each other, even at the expense of our friendship.
But weren’t we more than friends?
Atticus had risked everything despite our disagreements. The mistrust we shared paled in comparison to the ways he had proved he really did care about me.
Even now we hid it well; our chemistry was a richly texturedemotion. The realization that there was something profoundly special between us was impossible to ignore.
Atticus approached Aemon and Jewel and stood facing them with his usual charm and mesmerizing charisma. “Time to deliver my promise. Are you ready to witness the violent delights I promised you?”
“With my wife?” Aemon sounded astonished.
Atticus appeared unfazed. “An honor I don’t take lightly.”
Aemon sat back down. “I’m interested to see where you take this.”
He didn’t know I was attracted to Atticus. That if I’d been allowed to choose any man for this session, it would have been him.
To Aemon my crime fit the punishment. This was forced cuckolding and completely abhorrent.
He could never know I’d fantasized over a session like this with the great Atticus Sinclair, wanting to be captured by him in a dungeon much like this one.
This fantasy was becoming a stark reality—evolving into a dark dream of being taken by a man I secretly admired in front of the man who believed he owned me.
I was nothing more than an accessory to the High Chancellor.
Atticus took his time removing his cufflinks, and then slipped them into his pocket. He pulled off his jacket and bowtie and ripped off his shirt, leaving him clad in only his black pants. Finally, he removed his shoes and socks.
He stood there like a mystical figure, all tall and toned, his physique commanding attention. Cloaked in an aura of control, his strength and agility would impress all who watched him move. His piercing dark brown gaze penetrated the veil between the material and ethereal.
