Sold To Four- 2

CHAPTER 2

EVELINA

“On your knees.”

“What?”

His gaze sharpens. “Now.”

My mouth opens to protest—then snaps shut again. I don’t know why I obey.

I sink slowly to the floor, silk pooling around me. My pulse drums in my ears.

He steps forward.

He unbuckles his belt.

My breath catches.

“You were given to us,” he says, undoing the button of his slacks.

He grips my chin.

“Open your mouth.”

“Lucien…”

“Don’t make me repeat myself.”

Shaking, I part my lips.

He feeds himself to me — slowly — and I flinch. He doesn’t let me pull away. One hand cups the back of my head, fingers threading into my hair, holding me in place.

“Eyes up.”

I look up.

His face is stone. Sharp jaw clenched, nostrils flaring. Dominance leaks from every inch of him like smoke.

“That’s it,” he murmurs. “Good girl.”

I hate how those words make my thighs press together.

He guides my movements, controlling the pace. My throat fights, eyes sting, but he doesn’t stop. Doesn’t let me.

“You’ll learn to take what I give you,” he says softly. “You’ll learn to serve.”

I gag once. He pulls back.

“Breathe.”

I gasp, lips swollen, eyes wet. He strokes my cheek with the back of his hand.

“See? Not so difficult.”

I want to scream.

Instead, I glare up at him. “Are you done humiliating me?”

Lucien’s smile is slow. Cruel. He zips up and tilts my chin higher.

“Humiliation is only the beginning, Evelina.”

He hauls me up onto shaky legs, then spins me toward the bed. I stumble, catch myself on the mattress.

“Face down. Hands behind your back.”

I hesitate.

He grabs my wrist and twists.

“I said,” he growls into my ear, “down.”

I obey.

Silk rope wraps around my wrists — not tight enough to cut. He binds me then pushes my face gently into the mattress.

Then nothing.

No movement. No words. Just the sound of my own ragged breathing.

Then — lips.

His lips.

Between my thighs.

I flinch violently. “Lucien—!”

“Stay still,” he murmurs, voice muffled.

My body betrays me, arching back, grinding against his mouth like some desperate thing.

“Stop— I don’t want—”

“Your body says otherwise.”

He wraps one arm under my hips, holding me down. His tongue works deeper, faster, crueler.

“Please,” I whisper, choking. “Please, stop.”

“Wrong plea.”

He flicks his tongue. “Try again.”

I bite the sheets.

His pace slows again. Teasing now. Torturing.

“Beg me to make you come,” he murmurs. “And maybe I will.”

“I’d rather die.”

He laughs, dark and smooth. “Then you’re going to suffer first.”

And he doesn’t stop.

The rope holds me in place as he tears me apart with his mouth — wave after wave building inside me until I can’t take it. My thoughts blur. My pride dissolves.

“Lucien,” I gasp.

He slows again.

“No—please.”

“Please what?”

“Please...don’t stop.”

He pauses.

Then delivers one slow, devastating lick.

“Beg me right.”

I sob. “Please make me come.”

Louder.

“Please. Please, Lucien, I need it. I’ll do anything—”

“That,” he growls, “is what I wanted to hear.”

He devours me then.

I shatter silently. My body convulses in the ropes.

He pulls back slowly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I knew you’d beg,” he whispers.

He flips me onto my back, unties me, and kisses my wrist where the rope left its mark. I lie there, limp and dazed, chest heaving.

He strokes my cheek.

“You were beautiful like that.”

He undoes his shirt slowly. His chest is hard, tanned, inked across the ribs. His fingers move to his zipper.

“Now I’ll show you what it means to be owned.”

But just as he crawls onto the bed — footsteps echo in the hall.

 Then the door opens.

“Why are you here? Wait for your turn.”

Dante steps inside first, dark eyes gleaming, lips pulled in a crooked smile.

“Why wait,” he says, “when she’s already warmed up for us?”

Rafe follows. His eyes flick from Lucien to me and they stay there.

Then Caelum.

He grins when he sees me. "Well, well," he hums. “Our bride looks good ruined.”

Lucien straightens, still above me on the bed. “This was my night.”

Dante shrugs. “We agreed she belongs to all of us.”

“She does,” Caelum adds, walking toward the bed. “Which means I get a turn.” His eyes drop to my chest, and he licks his lips. “A taste. At least.”

“No,” I whisper, struggling to pull the sheets up again.

Lucien grabs my wrist. “Did I say you could hide?”

Caelum’s hand brushes mine, peels the sheets back with a teasing flick. His palm spreads across my chest — warm, cocky, slow.

“Soft little thing,” he murmurs. “Bet you’ll make the prettiest sounds when I—”

“Don’t touch me,” I breathe, voice shaking.

Dante’s already at the other side of the bed. He crouches beside me and grabs my chin hard, yanking my face toward him.

“You’re not in charge, princess,” he growls. “We own that mouth. That throat. That perfect little body.”

He presses his forehead to mine. “You can cry if you want. I like it better when they cry.”

Rafe moves closer, and I freeze.

He doesn’t speak.

Doesn’t need to.

His hand closes around my throat.

I suck in a shaky breath.

Lucien’s still sitting above me, watching it unfold. His eyes flick to mine.

“Don’t look at them,” he says lowly. “Look at me.”

But I can’t.

Caelum leans over, his mouth hovering just above my chest. His breath is warm.

“She’s trembling,” he whispers. “I love when they tremble.”

Dante strokes a finger down my stomach. “We should take turns making her beg.”

“She already did,” Lucien says coldly. “She begged me with tears in her throat.”

“I want to hear it for myself,” Dante says. “I want her on her knees.”

Rafe finally speaks one word, low and quiet.

“Now.”

Caelum’s lips graze my nipple, tongue flicking, making me gasp.

Lucien growls. “Get your hands off her.”

But he doesn’t stop him.

Because this is what they planned. This is what they do.

“You’re all insane,” I whisper.

Lucien leans down, his hand stroking my thigh, slow and deliberate. “No. We’re yours.”

His voice hardens.

“And you’re ours.”

The sheets are gone now. My body’s open to all of them. Four sets of eyes drinking me in like they’re starving.

Caelum leans in. “I wonder who she’ll break for first.”

Dante chuckles. “Not me. I don’t break my toys. I tear them open.”

Rafe’s thumb slides against my pulse. “She’s ready.”

I can’t breathe.

They’re all around me.

“This is the beginning, Evelina.”