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CHAPTER NINE
Dante
I’m barely here, floating somewhere between my body and oblivion, every nerve still buzzing. The blanket under me is soft, grounding, but it’s the hands—fuck, all those hands—that are pulling me back to earth. They’re everywhere, warm and slick with oil, gliding over the welts and rope burns that crisscross my skin. My muscles ache, screaming from being stretched and bound, but these touches, they’re like a balm, kneading out the tension, soothing the raw edges. I let out a shaky breath, my head lolling to the side as Evan’s fingers work into my shoulders, firm but careful.
