“Don’t,” I begged. He was hurting himself, and this was terrible enough without knowing that he was in pain.

His granite jaw was sharp enough to cut as he gritted his teeth and stilled. His dark eyes pierced my soul, and he gave me a tight nod: permission to continue and a promise not to struggle.

“Take him in your hand, Nora,” Dante instructed, so coolly composed while Luca and I were coming apart at the seams. “Stroke him.”

I wrapped trembling fingers around Luca’s shaft. It jerked and stiffened beneath my hesitant touch.

Dante laughed again, the bastard. “I won’t even have to drug you to make you hard. You’re even weaker than I thought, Vitale. Although,” he continued, stroking my hair, “my bride is stunning enough to tempt any man.”

“She’s not yours,” Luca ground out.

“Nora, darling. Squeeze his balls. Hard.”

I jolted. “No!”

Silver flashed in my peripheral vision, and a blade was suddenly pressed to Luca’s rippling abs, scraping down the trail of dark hair that led to his cock.

I cupped Luca’s balls and squeezed, closing my eyes so I didn’t have to look at his expression when he released a strangled shout.

Dante resumed stroking my hair. “You’re doing so well, pet.”

“I hate you.” The spiteful words trembled with tears.

“Lick him.” There was a bite to the command this time, the amusement evaporating from his tone.

I opened my eyes and breathed a sigh of relief to find that Dante had sheathed the knife once again. My compliance had made him relent before he cut Luca. I had no choice but to continue.

Releasing my cruel hold on the most vulnerable part of my real husband, I licked his cock: a desperate apology.

“Slower,” Dante growled. “Like you’re tasting your favorite candy. Savor it.”

I ran my tongue along the underside of Luca’s shaft and swirled it around the swollen head. He stiffened in my hand, and something salty painted my lips.

“Stroke him with your hand at the same time.”

I allowed my mind to drift, distancing myself from my body. What I was doing didn’t matter. My obedience was just a survival mechanism. I was saving Luca from torture.

But even as I thought it, I knew he was suffering in my hands. This lewd act—the complete loss of control—would be tearing my strong, dominant husband apart. The fact that I was also being debased right in front of his eyes would make it that much worse.

“Very good,” Dante praised.

I wanted to let the humiliating words breeze past me, but they were accompanied by a brush of his fingers over my clit. A shocked cry burst from my chest at the sudden, intimate contact. Luca’s hips jerked at the vibration of my lips on him.