Cassie’s fingertips fit perfectly into the space of my knuckles. Is that a thing? I don’t think I have ever noticed, and now I can’t stop thinking about it. About how it feels we were made for this. For this very moment, to be together facing the world.
“You look thoughtful,” she says, bringing her body against my arm. The proximity still makes me hard, even after everything we’ve done.
I smile at her. “It’s nothing.” These thoughts I’ve been having about her would sound ridiculous if I said them out loud with the others around us. Maybe share them in an intimate moment, where nobody cared for what I said?
Cassie tilts her lips, but she doesn’t press me. She never does. Turning to face the corridor ahead, she places a hand on my shoulder, the bracelet on her arm tinkling. “Where’s Oreo, anyway?”
“In the library,” Tristan promptly replies. “He likes the library.”
Cassie nods, not questioning why in the world would a dog enjoy the library, or how does Tristan know it. He’s been around the library himself, and he perhaps saw the dog lying on a carpet or something. Every one of these thoughts disappears when we reach our room and Cassie opens the door.
Crossing the threshold is like crossing a portal. Something hot shivers across my skin as we enter the bedroom, as if the air got heavier. Donatello waits for everyone to join, then he closes the door, and we’re covered in deep silence for a minute. Cassie’s hand twitches in mine. I hold her tighter.
Donnie prowls closer, pinching Cassie’s chin between two fingers and raising her face closer to his. She parts her lips in that delicious way I know means she wants us to take her. My wolf paces inside me, unquiet. He’s been dying to mark her from the moment we met, but with everything going on?
I lick my lips, hungry for a taste of her. The room grows smaller, like we’re all stepping closer to Cassandra without noticing.
“We have the night to ourselves,” Donnie murmurs against her lips. His mouth curls into a knowing smile. “Which is why I brought the rope.”
And he steps back. I cock my head in confusion. “Rope?” I ask.
Cassandra shivers, and I drop an arm around her shoulders to warm her up. I watch her throat bob. “What are you going to do with that rope?” she asks, her voice strained.
Donatello goes for the dresser and opens a drawer, pulling out a bundle of rope from its confines. He approaches again, and I see the rope is not any kind of rope. It’s braided in a different, more complex manner. My brows drop over my nose. Are we using that on Cassie? I don’t like that idea. What if she gets hurt? And wouldn’t that be uncomfortable?
“Where did you get that?” Apollo asks, brows arched in an obvious attempt to antagonize Donatello, but his shoulders are knotted and he can’t help but gaze down at Cassandra’s body.
“Museum thirteen,” Cassie asks, off-handedly. I don’t know what that means, but my throat clenches and I don’t ask.
Donnie approaches again, touching my mate’s elbow and repositioning her until she’s in the middle of a circle formed by us. “Strip for us,” he says in that way that’s either a question or an order. Maybe something in the middle.
My pants grow even tighter as my heart thunders. Cassandra swallows, but grips the hem of her shirt and tugs it over her head. I start to kneel to help her with her boots, but Donatello shoots me a glance that has me stopping on my tracks. Cassandra kicks the boots off, then tugs her leggings down around her hips.
Every inch revealed of her skin makes me hotter. Like a fire started inside my ribcage. The first drops of sweat pop in the nape of my neck, under my long hair. Cassandra’s cheeks turn pink as she looks up at me, lips half-parted, and she reaches behind herself to unhook her bra. Her breasts bounce free, and she presses her arms to her sides as she leans forward and strips off her panties.
“This is weird,” she whispers.
“This is so fucking sexy,” Apollo roars behind her, eyes on the swell of her ass.
Donnie swallows too, then motions for the bed. “On your knees.”
Cassandra does as he says, climbing onto the bed and sitting on her haunches. My eyes can’t have enough of her. The flush on her cheeks, her chest heaving, down her stomach to the mound of her sex. I almost tremble to touch her. Tristan visibly does.
Donnie touches the mattress with his knees, undoing the rope. “This is a special kind of rope. It’s meant not to hurt, but to create pressure.”
Cassie cocks her head, her dark hair cascading down her shoulder. “BDSM?”
Donnie smiles. “It’s used there, yes, but it’s a Japanese technique. It’s called shibari. Let’s start easy, see if you enjoy it, and then we can take it some steps further.”
Cassie studies the rope, then nods. “What do I have to do?”
“Absolutely nothing. That’s the beauty of it.” And he smiles, reaching around her with the rope. “Arms to your sides. Tell me if it’s too tight.”
Those are the most torturous minutes of my life. Donnie takes his time tying the rope around Cassie’s torso, both over and under her breasts. Her arms are pressed to her sides, forcing her tits up and out. Donnie tugs on the ropes and they tighten, making the breasts of my mate pop. We’re all barely holding back, trembling with the growing tension. I feel it down my spine like electricity, shooting straight into my balls.
“Shit,” she murmurs, and we all stop. Donnie included.
“Too much?” he asks, slipping a finger under the ropes. Perhaps to check if they’re hurting her. No matter how hot this shit is, I wouldn’t go through with it if she was in pain.