Back The Society Trilogy
Chapters (136)
  1. Cover
  2. About This Book
  3. Requiem of the Soul
  4. About This Book
  5. Prologue
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. 17
  23. 18
  24. 19
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. 31
  37. 32
  38. 33
  39. 34
  40. Reparation of Sin
  41. About This Book
  42. 1
  43. 2
  44. 3
  45. 4
  46. 5
  47. 6
  48. 7
  49. 8
  50. 9
  51. 10
  52. 11
  53. 12
  54. 13
  55. 14
  56. 15
  57. 16
  58. 17
  59. 18
  60. 19
  61. 20
  62. 21
  63. 22
  64. 23
  65. 24
  66. 25
  67. 26
  68. 27
  69. 28
  70. 29
  71. 30
  72. 31
  73. 32
  74. 33
  75. 34
  76. 35
  77. 36
  78. 37
  79. 38
  80. 39
  81. 40
  82. 41
  83. Resurrection of the Heart
  84. About This Book
  85. 1
  86. 2
  87. 3
  88. 4
  89. 5
  90. 6
  91. 7
  92. 8
  93. 9
  94. 10
  95. 11
  96. 12
  97. 13
  98. 14
  99. 15
  100. 16
  101. 17
  102. 18
  103. 19
  104. 20
  105. 21
  106. 22
  107. 23
  108. 24
  109. 25
  110. 26
  111. 27
  112. 28
  113. 29
  114. 30
  115. 31
  116. 32
  117. 33
  118. 34
  119. 35
  120. 36
  121. 37
  122. 38
  123. 39
  124. 40
  125. 41
  126. 42
  127. 43
  128. 44
  129. 45
  130. Epilogue
  131. Want More of The Society?
  132. Also by Natasha Knight
  133. Also by A. Zavarelli
  134. About A. Zavarelli
  135. About Natasha Knight
  136. Thank you!

We stay like that for a long time, and as cold as the stone is beneath my hands and knees, sweat drips off my forehead as I wait for him to make his next move. I swear an eternity passes before he does. Before he finally rises, and I breathe a sigh of relief when he comes to me without the cane. When he kneels behind me and puts one hand on my hip and slides the other one up along my back, exerting pressure as he reaches the space between my shoulder blades, then closes his hand over the back of my neck. It’s still tender from the tattoo. His fingers weave into my hair to curve around my skull, and I know what he wants, so I lower myself to my forearms and rest my forehead on the cold stone, and when I hear him unzip his trousers, I claw my fingers into the narrow crevices between the large stones and brace myself.

He takes hold of both hips and splays me open, fingers digging into skin.

I close my eyes when I feel him at my entrance, and I’m hungry for it. I feel that hunger slide down the inside of my thigh, and I know he sees it and feels it, and when he enters me, it’s in one fell swoop. I can’t help my cry. It takes all I have to keep my forehead on the ground as he takes me, keeping his hands firmly on my hips, not touching me where I need him to touch me. I know this is my punishment. His pleasure. He will use me for his pleasure tonight. And I’ll take it.

And when our breathing is ragged and his thrusts frantic, and I feel him thicken even more inside me, I feel his fist at the back of my neck as he winds that rosary around it and draws me up, the sensation different like this.

With one hand, he chokes me with that rosary while with the other, he digs his fingers into my hip, those fingers so close to my clit, so close to my throbbing, wanting clit. And when he comes, he wraps that arm around my middle and holds me so tight that for a moment, I can’t breathe. As he empties inside me, I can’t breathe.

When he’s finished, when he’s loosened the choking rosary, when his arm isn’t a steel bar crushing my ribs, he takes the shell of my ear between sharp teeth, and I still want. Even as I feel him draw out of me. Even as I feel his come slide down the insides of my legs, I still want.