Page 108 of Beautiful Sinners

Using his back as leverage, I push up to reduce the pressure of his shoulder on my stomach.

“Thanks for interrupting.”

I say it sarcastically, but Hendrix flips it to mean the opposite.

“You can show me your appreciation by wrapping those luscious lips around my cock.”

I make an embarrassing squeal when I encounter nothing but air when Hendrix flips me over onto Tristan’s bed. Raising up on my bent forearms, I blow the hair out of my face and scowl at him.

“Stay right there. Don’t move,” he says and leaves the room.

“I’m not a dog!”

I hear him laugh. “You’d look hot as fuck wearing a collar.”

Oh, hell no. After looking up butt plugs online, I now know enough about BDSM to positively say that collars, whips, paddles, and nipple clamps are four things on my ‘never in this lifetime’ list.

Tristan’s disembodied voice comes from out in the hall. “I thought we were waiting to give that to her this weekend.”

My ears perk up. “Give what to me?”

Hendrix comes back, clearly hiding something behind his back. “Get naked, and we’ll show you.”

“No.” I beam a stubborn, victorious smile at Tristan when he walks in with Constantine. He’s not the only one who can say that word.

Hendrix hits me with what he knows is my kryptonite. “Good girls get presents and orgasms.”

And just like that, my body immediately responds. Arousal pools deep in my core, my breasts grow heavy, and my pussy aches to be filled by them.

“You don’t play fair, Mister Knight.”

“Master Knight,” he playfully admonishes, and I treat him to the biggest roll of the eyes I can make.

Standing, I walk to the end of the bed and curl my hand around the top of the post. Nothing outside this bedroom matters. Not our argument or the Society or Aleksander.

“Are you going to show me what’s behind your back?” From my vantage point, I try to see what Hendrix is hiding.

“Pick. Right hand or left hand.”

“Left.”

I think my mouth makes an ‘O’ of surprise when he produces a slim, satin-black jewelry box. Other than the plastic watch I sometimes wear and my belly button stud, I don’t own much jewelry.

Tristan takes the box from Hendrix. “We have a lot of birthdays to celebrate that we missed out on.” He opens the case, and my eyes widen at what looks like a diamond necklace. “We wanted you to have this so you would always remember that you are loved… and wanted…and ours.”

Heart swelling with emotion, my fingers tremble when I reach down to accept the exquisite gift. Small round diamonds adorn a long, delicate filigree chain.

“Thank you. It’s a beautiful necklace.”

“It’s not that kind of necklace, baby. It’s a belly chain,” Tristan informs me.

Constantine steps forward, lifting it from its cushioned nest and circling it around my waist. His hands brush against my side as he secures the clasp. The diamonds sparkle in the waning light, which perfectly complements the effulgent happiness radiating from within me.

“Silver?”

I coast my fingers along the links of the chain. Even though it seems to pulse with an inner luminosity, the metal feels cool against my flushed body.

Hendrix makes a disgusted scoff. “Hell, no. Platinum.”

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