Page 100 of Satan's Priest

I opened my eyes, breathing hard, but the pleasure blurred my focus. Lucien slowed his thrusts and ground his pelvis against mine, burying himself deeper.

“You can’t escape me now, Grace.” Lucien’s slow, devilish smile sent a shiver through me. “I’m about to tie us together to be bonded. You’ll never be able to leave me.”

He withdrew from me, only to slam back in. I screamed and threw back my head, my eyes fluttering shut. Lucien’s hand met my cheek with a loud crack. I opened my eyes and panted while I met his gaze again.

“And your secrets, little sinner? I’ll know them all.”

My eyes widened. Before I could object, power surged through me. I screamed at the top of my lungs as I came. Lucien grunted as he pistoned into me, and warmth flooded into my cunt. His magic licked at every nerve, making my orgasm that much better. My toes curled, and black dots popped into my vision.

Lucien thrust one more time, then he stopped. We panted, gazing at each other, and I clenched on his cock as I stared at his creepy but sexy mask.

Daiman approached us while slow-clapping with a smirk. “You two put on the best show. I even recorded it.” He dropped his hands and stuffed them into his front pockets, still grinning. The huge outline of his erection pressed against his pants, and my inner walls squeezed on Lucien, who turned his head to look at me. I could just see his eyebrow raised behind his mask.

“So you’re . . .” I swallowed.

Lucien pulled out of me, and I whimpered, feeling the loss already. He sat on his knees between my legs, the dark-purple tip of his erection jutting up. “Go on, little sinner. Spit it out,” Lucien purred.

Daiman watched with male amusement.

“You guys are okay with me . . .” I took a deep breath to calm my nerves. “Being with both of you? There won’t be any jealousy or anything?”

Lucien grabbed my arm and dragged me into a sitting position. My nose brushed against his mask, and our warm breaths mingled. I hesitantly rested my hands on his shoulders.

“Know this, Grace. I don’t mind you fucking my brother, but no one else is allowed to touch you. The second I find out that another man touches you is the day you will wish you never met me.”

My heart sank to my stomach.

“I-I want to go home now,” I whispered.

Lucien pinched my chin between his fingers and cocked his head. His eyes were concealed, but I could feel his curious glare searching for the cause of my sudden shutdown. The thread linking us vibrated as if it was being tested for stability. When I didn’t feel the energy slamming into my mind as it had when Daiman looked at my memories, I released a shaky breath, relieved.

“What are you hiding, little sinner?” he murmured.

I shook my head, knocking his hand away from my chin. “I’m tired.”

Daiman crouched beside us, his eyes narrowing to tiny slits. “Keep running, angel. I do love a good chase.”

I swallowed hard and looked at Lucien, pleading with my eyes for him to do just this one thing.

Lucien stayed silent as he watched me. After a few tense seconds, he stood up and yanked me along with him. As he tucked himself away and fixed his pants, he said, “I don’t know what you’re hiding, Grace. But I promise that the longer you keep your secret, the worse the punishment will be.”

That last nail in the coffin made me clam up.

That’s what I’m afraid of; they’ll hate me when they find out.

61

GRACE

While carrying my laundry basket through the kitchen, I couldn’t stop humming a tune from a song that was stuck in my head. Slinky peered around the corner of the island table, hissing at me and crouching low on the ground. Christy stood at the counter, holding the half-empty coffeepot in one hand and her favorite Bible-quote mug in the other. She looked down at the hissing cat and turned her head, glaring at me as I passed her. I returned it with my own and looked away.

My sister hadn’t spoken a word to me since that incident. I had worried she would insist I was possessed and needed an exorcism, but she hadn’t. I’d been avoiding my family, especially Dad.

Lucien’s warning echoed in my head, and I winced.

I walked into the laundry room, still softly singing. The irony wasn’t lost on me; the song stuck in my head was “Little Sinner” by Satan’s Priest. I switched the laundry and put mine in the washer.

“Grace.”